"Come and see me to-morrow," said Peter.

After Dummer had gone, Peter walked uptown, and saw his clergyman.

"Yes," he was told, "Mr. Bohlmann has always stood high in the church,
and has been liberal and sensible with his money. I can't tell you how
this whole thing has surprised and grieved me, Mr. Stirling. It must be
terrible for his wife. His daughters, too, are such nice sweet girls.
You've probably noticed them in church?"

"No," Peter had not noticed them. He did not add that he did not notice
young girls--that for some reason they had not interested him
since--since--

"Where does he live?" inquired Peter.

"Not ten blocks from here," replied Dr. Purple, and named the street and
number.

Peter looked at his watch and, thanking the clergyman, took his leave.
He did not go back to his office, but to the address, and asked for Mr.
Bohlmann. A respectable butler showed him into a handsome parlor and
carried his name to the brewer.

There were already two girls in the room. One was evidently a caller.
The other, a girl with a sweet, kindly, German face, was obviously one
of the "nice" daughters. His arrival checked the flow of conversation
somewhat, but they went on comparing their summer experiences. When the
butler came back and said aloud, "Mr. Bohlmann will see you in the