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CHAPTER XLIII.
A BIRTHDAY EVENING.

Peter went into Ray's office on Monday. "I want your advice," he said.
"I'm going to a birthday dinner to-morrow. A girl for whom I'm trustee.
Now, how handsome a present may I send her?"
"H'm. How well do you know her?"
"We are good friends."
"Just about what you please, I should say, if you know her well, and
make money out of her?"
"That is, jewelry?"
"Ye--es."
"Thanks." Peter turned.
"Who is she, Peter? I thought you never did anything so small as that.
Nothing, or four figures, has always seemed your rule?"
"This had extenuating circumstances," smiled Peter.
So when Peter shook hands, the next evening, with the very swagger young
lady who stood beside her mother, receiving, he was told:
"It's perfectly lovely! Look." And the little wrist was held up to him.
"And so were the flowers. I couldn't carry a tenth of them, so I decided
to only take papa's. But I put yours up in my room, and shall keep them
there.


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