ngs!" Suddenly she
bent and kissed his cold forehead. "Oh, Mr. King, if you listen to him
with--with your _heart_--you'll hear it! He's mocking at trouble and
disgrace,--and misunderstanding and silly pride! He's--_hear him
now!_--he's mocking at pain and sorrow and--and _death_!"

Then she ran out of the room and down the long stairs and across the
lawn to her own house, where a noisy and jubilant section of the Old
Guard waited.

CHAPTER XI

It was happily clear at breakfast that Stephen Lorimer had more or less
made his peace--and Honor's peace--with his wife. Like his beloved Job,
whom he knew almost by heart, he had ordered his cause and filled his
mouth with arguments, and Mildred Lorimer had come to see something
rather splendidly romantic in her daughter's quest for her true love.
Stephen, who never appeared at breakfast, was down on time, heavy-eyed
and flushed, and Honor saw with a pang, in the stern morning light, that
he was middle-aged. Her gay young stepfather! His spirit had put a
period at nineteen, but his tired body was settling back into the slack
lines of the late fifties. Her mother had changed but little, thanks to
the unruffled serenity of her spirit and the skillful hands which cared
for her.

"Muzzie," Honor had said, meeting her alone in the morning, "you are a
marvel! Why, you haven't a single gray hair!"

"It's--well, I suppose it's because I have it taken care of," said Mrs.
Lorimer, flushing faintly. "It's not a dye. It's not in the least a
dye--it simply _keeps_ the original color in the hair, that's all. I
wouldn't think of using a dye. In the first place, they say it's really
dangerous,--it seeps into the brain and affects your mind, and in the
second place it gives your face a hard look, always,--and besides, I
don't approve of it. But this thing Madame uses for me is _perfectly_
harmless, Honor."

"It's perfectly charming, Muzzie," said her daughter, giving her a
hearty hug. It was a good world this morning. The breakfast table was
gay, and Kada beamed. Takasugi had made countless pop-overs--Honor's
favorites--and Kada was slipping in and out with heaping plates of them.
"Pop-all-overs" the littlest Lorimer called them, steaming,
golden-hearted. Honor had sung for them and the Old Guard the night
before and even the smallest of the boys was impressed and was treating
her this morning with an added deference which flowered in many passings
of the marmalade and much broth