two gate-posts of the
entrance to his grounds, and May Jane's visiting cards bore the words:

'Mrs. Peterkin. Le Bateau. Fridays.'

She had her _days_ now, like Mrs. Atherton, and Mrs. St. Claire, and
Mrs. Tracy, and had her butler, too, and her maid, and her carriage; and
after the house was furnished, and furnished in style which reminded one
of a theatre, it was so gorgeous and gay, Peterkin concluded to have a
_coat of arms_ for his carriage; and remembering how Arthur had helped
him in a former dilemma he sought him again and told him his trouble.

'That _Lubber-too_ (he called it _too_ now) 'went down like hot cakes,
and was just the thing,' he said, 'and now I want some picter for my
carriage door to kinder mark me, and show who I am. You know what I
mean.'

Arthur thought a _puff-ball_ would represent Peterkin better than
anything else, but he replied:

'Yes, I know. You want a coat of arms, which shall suggest your early
days--'

'When I was a flounderin' to get up--jess so,' Peterkin interrupted him.
'You've hit it, square. Now I'd like a picter of the Lizy Ann, as she
was, but May Jane won't hear to't. What do you say, square?'

Arthur tingled to his finger tips at this familiarity from a man whom he
detested, and whom he would like to turn from his door, but the man was
in his house and in his private room, tilting back in a delicate Swiss
chair, which Arthur expected every moment to see broken to pieces, and
which finally did go down with a crash as the burly figure settled
itself a little more firmly upon the frail thing.

'I'll be dumbed if I hain't, broke it all to shivers!' the terrified
Peterkin exclaimed, as he struggled to his feet, and looked with dismay
upon the _debris_. 'What's the damage?' he continued, taking out his
pocket-book and ostentatiously showing a fifty-dollar bill.

'Money cannot replace the chair, which once adorned the _salon_ of
Madame De Stael,' Arthur said, 'Put up your purse, but for Heaven's
sake, never again tip back in your chair. It is a vulgar trick, of which
no gentleman would be guilty.'

Ordinarily, Peterkin would have resented language like this, but he was
just now too anxious to curry favor with Arthur to show any anger, and
he answered, meekly:

'That's so, square. 'Tain't good manners, and I know it, as well as the
next one. I'm awful sorry about the chair, and think mebby I could get
it mended. I'd like to try.'

'Never mind the chair,' Arthur said,