it makes me feel almost as if I were
in the East again." She gave her a small, tissue wrapped parcel for her
son and came out on to the steps again with her. "Be careful about
crossing, Honor!"

"Yes," said Honor, lightly. "That would hardly do,--to come alone from
Italy and then get myself run over on my own street. What's that
Kipling thing Stepper quotes:

To sail unscathed from a heathen land
And be robbed on a Christian coast!

Well, good-night, Mrs. Van Meter, and good-by, and I'll write you how
Carter is!"

The older woman put her arms about her and held her close. "Dearest
girl, Carter told me not to breathe to any one, not even to your mother,
about--about what happened last summer--and--and what he asked you, and
I haven't, but I _must_ tell you how glad...." then, at the bewilderment
in Honor's face in the light of the porch lamp,--"he showed me the
telegram you sent him to the steamer."

"Oh,--I remember!" Her brief wire to him, promising to forgive and
forget his wild words of the evening before. She had quite forgiven, and
she had so nearly forgotten that she could not imagine, at first, what
his mother meant. And now, because the older woman was trembling, and
because Carter must have told her of how he had lost control of himself
and been for a moment false to his friend, she gave back the warm
embrace and kissed the pale cheek. "Yes. And I _meant_ it, Mrs. Van
Meter!"

"You _blessed_ child!" Marcia Van Meter wiped her eyes. "You've made me
very happy."

Honor ran across Figueroa Street between flashing headlights on
automobiles, and her heart was soft within her. _Poor_ old Cartie! How
he must have grieved and reproached himself, and how seriously he must
have taken it, to tell his mother! Fancy not forgiving people! Her
stepfather had marked a passage for her in her pocket "R. L. S."...
"The man who cannot forgive any mortal thing is a green hand in life,"
Stevenson had said. Honor believed him. She could even forgive James
King, poor, proud, miserable James King, for failing Jimsy. It was
because he cared so much. As she started up her own walk some one called
to her from the steps of the King house.

"That you, Honor?"

"Yes, Doctor! I just came home to-day. How are you?" She ran over to
shake hands with him. "Is Mr. King very sick?"

"He's dying."

"Oh, Doctor _Deering_!"

"Yes. No mistake about it this time. Wants to see you. Old nigger woman
told him you were home.