tly. It was the doctor's motor, the same seasoned old
car, which was stopping before the house of the "Wild Kings," and she
saw the physician hurry up the untidy path and disappear into the house.
James King was ill again. She would have to see him, then. Perhaps he
would have a good message for Jimsy. She finished her tea and slipped
into her old blue kimono, still hanging in the closet, turned back the
embroidered spread and laid herself down upon the bed. She took Jimsy's
ring out of the little jewel pocket where she carried it and put it on
her finger. "I will never take it off again," she said to herself. Then
she fell asleep.

"Fresh as paint, T. S.," said her stepfather when she came down.

"My dear, what an adorable frock," said her mother. "You never got
_that_ in Italy!"

"But I did, Muzzie!" Honor was penitently glad of the sign of
fellowship. "There's a really lovely little shop in the Via Tournabouni.
Wait till my big trunk comes and you see what I found for you there! Oh,
here's Mrs. Van Meter!"

She hurried to the door to greet Carter's mother. Marcia Van Meter
kissed her warmly and exclaimed over her. She was thinner but it was
becoming, and her gown suited her perfectly, and--they were seated at
dinner now--was that an Italian ring?

"Yes," said Honor, slowly, looking first at her mother, "it is an
Italian ring, a very old one. Jimsy gave it to me. It has been in the
King family for generations. Isn't it lovely?"

"_Lovely_," said Mrs. Van Meter, coloring. She changed the subject
swiftly but she did not really seem disconcerted. Indeed, her manner
toward Honor during the meal and the hour that followed was
affectionate to the point, almost, of seeming proprietary and maternal.
Some boys and girls came in later and Mrs. Van Meter rose to go. "I'll
run home, now, my dear, and leave you with your young friends."

"I'll go across the street with you, Mrs. Van Meter," said Stephen
Lorimer, flinging his cigarette into the fire. He had already extracted
her promise not to telegraph Carter but he meant to hear it again.

"Thanks, Mr. Lorimer, but I'm going to ask Honor to step over with me. I
have a tiny parcel for Carter and a message. Will you come, Honor?"

She slipped her arm through the girl's and gave it a little squeeze as
they crossed the wide street. "Hasn't the city changed and grown, my
dear? Look at the number of motors in sight at this moment! One hardly
dares cross the street. I declare,