"You must come out to Buxton when we're settled. Take a week off." Charles glanced at his watch, edged toward the street. "I may." Henrietta's lips, firm and cool, touched Catherine's. "Good-by." "We'd better walk fast," said Charles. "I have to get the bags out of the parcel room." "Want a taxi?" Bill lifted his hand, but Catherine refused. "It's only three blocks. Let's walk." At the corner entrance of Grand Central, Charles darted ahead, with a hasty, "Meet you at the clock. You find Mother Spencer and the kids." Catherine drew a long breath and looked up at Bill. "South America," she said. "Mountains. And you are really keen about it?" "It sounds good, don't you think?" He pushed open the heavy door for her. "Too bad we can't have dinner on some mountain peak." He smiled down at her. "What would they give us? Hot tamales, or are those Mexican?" "South America--and Buxton," said Catherine. "There is Spencer." Bill took her arm and swung her out of the path of a laden porter. "And the others." "I hope it will be wonderful, Bill. And I'm not done for, not yet." Catherine could see the children, Letty with round eyes and her doll hugged under one arm, Marian jiggling on her toes with delight. "I hope that you----" What he would have said, Catherine did not know, for Marian had seen them and hurled herself upon her mother with a burst of staccato excitement. But Catherine had met, for a clear instant, in a lifting of Bill's somber impersonality, a kind of dogged, sympathetic challenge. "Oh, Mother!" Spencer had his fingers around her arm. "I began to think you weren't coming!" "Margaret's here somewhere." Mrs. Spencer clung to Letty's hand. "Buying you magazines, I think. Where is Charles?" "Here's the King." Margaret came up with him. "Hello, Mr. Bill." "The guard will have to let me through the gate," announced Charles severely, "to settle these bags for you." "Oh, Cathy!" Margaret whisked to Catherine's side. "We're coming up to see you in Maine, Amy and I. In our own car! Want us?" "I shall probably stop in Buxton on my way back from George's," said Mrs. Spencer, as she pushed Letty and Marian toward the gate. "I wish you weren't going so far"--she sighed--"but as I've said, I think it's just the place for you all." Charles was impressing the guard, successfully, so that he did step through, Spencer beside him tugging at a handbag. A flurry of good-bys, and Catherine, with Letty and Marian clinging to her hands, followed him upon the platform. She turned for a last glimpse. Margaret, her bright hair flying, was waving at them; Mrs. Spencer dabbed softly at her cheeks with her handkerchief; Bill--no, Bill had turned away. There, he was waving, too. Marian waggled her handkerchief. Charles called behind her, "Come along, Cathy, your coach is halfway down the track."