"_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, 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."