bowed, hat in hand, shaking his handsome silver head. "We leave you
to the embraces of your friends, Senorita. One day we will do ourselves
the honor to call upon you, and Senor and Senora King, whom it is our
privilege to know very slightly. For the present, we are content to have
served you."

"Oh," said Honor in her hearty and honest voice, holding out a frank
hand, "this is the _kindest_ country! _Every one_ has been so good to
me! I wish I could thank you enough!"

The old gentleman stood very straight and a dark color surged up in his
swarthy face. "Then, dear young lady, you will perhaps have the
graciousness to say a pleasant word for us in that country of yours
which does not love us too well! You will perhaps say we are not all
barbarians." He gave an order to his coachman and the quaint old
carriage turned slowly and precisely and started on its long return
trip, the _Profesor_, still bareheaded, bowing, his daughter beaming and
kissing her hand. Honor held herself rigidly to the task of seeing them
off. Then--_Jimsy!_ Where was he? She had had a childish feeling that he
would be instantly visible when she got there; she had come from Italy
to Mexico,--from Florence to a coffee plantation beyond Cordoba in the
_tierra caliente_ to find him,--and journeys ended in lovers' meeting,
every wise man's son--and daughter--knew. The nods and becks and
wreathed smiles of the serving woman brought her back to earth.

"Senora King?" She asked, dutifully, for her hostess--her unconscious
hostess--first.

"_Si Senorita! Pronto!_" The servant beckoned her into a dim, cool
_sala_ and disappeared. "Well, I know what that means," Honor told
herself. "'Right away.' Oh, I _hope_ it's right away!"

But it was not. The Kings, like all sensible people, were at their
_siesta_; twenty racking moments went by before they came in. Richard
King was older than Jimsy's father but he had the same look of race and
pride, and his wife was a plain, rather tired-looking Englishwoman with
very white teeth and broodingly tender blue eyes which belied the
briskness of her manner.

"I am Honor Carmody."

"You are----" Mrs. King came forward, frowning a little.

"I--I am engaged to your nephew--to Jimsy King. I think you must have
heard of me."

"My dear, of course we have! How very nice to see you! But--how--and
where did you----"

The girl interrupted breathlessly. "Oh, please,--I'll tell you
everything, in a minute. But I must know