see how we could have avoided it, what we should have encountered in its
place? Who can tell, when sweet comes, how far it is sweetened by the
bitterness that went before? Dodging the future in this world is a
success equal to that of the old woman who triumphantly announced that
she had borrowed money enough to pay all her debts.

As a matter of course Watts was grateful for the timely assistance, and
was not slow either to say or show it. He told his own set of fellows
that he was "going to take that Stirling up and make him one of us," and
Watts had a remarkable way of doing what he chose. At first Peter did
not respond to the overtures and insistance of the handsome,
well-dressed, free-spending, New York swell. He was too conscious of the
difference between himself and Watts's set, to wish or seek
identification with them. But no one who ever came under Watts's
influence could long stand out against his sunny face and frank manner,
and so Peter eventually allowed himself to be "taken up." Perhaps the
resistance encountered only whetted Watts's intention. He was certainly
aided by Peter's isolation. Whether the cause was single or multiple,
Peter was soon in a set from which many a seemingly far more eligible
fellow was debarred.

Strangely enough, it did not change him perceptibly. He still plodded on
conscientiously at his studies, despite laughter and attempts to drag
him away from them. He still lived absolutely within the comfortable
allowance that his mother gave him. He still remained the quiet, serious
looking fellow of yore. The "gang," as they styled themselves, called
him "kill-joy," "graveyard," or "death's head," in their evening
festivities, but Peter only puffed at his pipe good-naturedly, making no
retort, and if the truth had really been spoken, not a man would have
changed him a particle. His silence and seriousness added the dash of