the having, and the tailor yielded rather than lose the job. Scarcely
had it been put in order, when Peter was asked to dine at his
clergyman's, and the next day came another invitation, to dine with
Justice Gallagher. Peter began to wonder if he had decided wisely in
vamping the old suit.

He had one of the pleasantest evenings of his life at Dr. Purple's. It
was a dinner of ten, and Peter was conscious that a real compliment had
been paid him in being included, for the rest of the men were not merely
older than himself, but they were the "strong" men of the church. Two
were trustees. All were prominent in the business world. And it pleased
Peter to find that he was not treated as the youngster of the party, but
had his opinions asked. At one point of the meal the talk drifted to a
Bethel church then under consideration, and this in turn brought up the
tenement-house question. Peter had been studying this, both practically
and in books, for the last three months. Before long, the whole table
was listening to what he had to say. When the ladies had withdrawn,
there was political talk, in which Peter was much more a listener, but
it was from preference rather than ignorance. One of the men, a
wholesale dealer in provisions, spoke of the new governor's
recommendation for food legislation.

"The leaders tell me that the legislature will do something about it,"
Peter said.

"They'll probably make it worse," said Mr. Avery.

"Don't you think it can be bettered?" asked Peter.

"Not by politicians."