winter, but with the class of men he already knew too well. Even though
he met them only at meals, their atmosphere was intolerable to him. When
a room next his office fell vacant, and went begging at a very cheap
price, he decided to use it as a bedroom. So he moved his few belongings
on his return from his visit to his mother's.

Although he had not been particularly friendly to the other boarders,
nor made himself obtrusive in the least, not one of them failed to speak
of his leaving. Two or three affected to be pleased, but
"Butter-and-cheese" said he "was a first-rate chap," and this seemed to
gain the assent of the table generally.

"I'm dreadfully sorry to lose him," his landlady informed her other
boarders, availing herself, perhaps, of the chance to deliver a side hit
at some of them. "He never has complained once, since he came here, and
he kept his room as neat as if he had to take care of it himself."

"Well," said the box-office oracle, "I guess he's O.K., if he is a bit
stiff; and a fellow who's best man to a big New York swell, and gets his
name in all the papers, doesn't belong in a seven-dollar,
hash-seven-days-a-week, Bleecker Street boarding-house."

Peter fitted his room up simply, the sole indulgence (if properly so
called) being a bath, which is not a usual fitting of a New York
business office, consciences not yet being tubbable. He had made his
mother show him how to make coffee, and he adopted the Continental
system of meals, having rolls and butter sent in, and making a French
breakfast in his own rooms. Then he lunched regularly not far from his
office, and dined wherever his afternoon walk, or evening plans carried
him. He found that he saved no money by the change, but he saved his