Stretched upon the stone floor beside her brother, she lay motionless.
Beneath her, and wrapped about and covering her, as the leaves covered
the babes in the wood, was a vast cobweb of yellow bills, each for five
hundred dollars, payable in gold.

A month later the harbor of Porto Cortez in Honduras was shaken with
the roar of cannon. In comparison, the roaring of all the cannon of
all the revolutions that that distressful country ever had known, were
like fire-crackers under a barrel.

Faithful to his itinerary, the Secretary of State of the United States
was paying his formal visit to Honduras, and the President of that
republic, waiting upon the Fruit Company's wharf to greet him, was
receiving the salute of the American battle-ships. Back of him, on the
wharf, his own barefooted artillerymen in their turn were saluting,
excitedly and spasmodically, the distinguished visitor. As an honor he
had at last learned to accept without putting a finger in each ear, the
Secretary of State smiled with gracious calm. Less calm was the
President of Honduras. He knew something the Secretary did not know.
He knew that at any moment a gun of his saluting battery might turn
turtle, or blow into the harbor himself, his cabinet, and the larger
part of his standing army.

Made fast to the wharf on the side opposite to the one at which the
Secretary had landed was one of the Fruit Company's steamers. She was
on her way north, and Porto Cortez was a port of call. That her
passengers might not intrude upon the ceremonies, her side of the wharf
was roped off and guarded by the standing army. But from her decks and
from behind the ropes the passengers, with a battery of cameras, were
perpetuating the historic scene.

Among them, close to the ropes, viewing the ceremony with the cynical
eye of one who in Europe had seen kings and emperors meet upon the
Field of the Cloth of Gold, was Everett. He made no effort to bring
himself to the attention of his former chief. But when the
introductions were over, the Secretary of State turned his eyes to his
fellow countrymen crowding the rails of the American steamer. They
greeted him with cheers. The great man raised his hat, and his eyes
fell upon Everett. The Secretary advanced quickly, his hand extended,
brushing to one side the standing army.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"On my way home, sir," said Everett. "I couldn't leave sooner; there
were--personal reasons.