that party, and I didn't leave for over two weeks,
and that makes it--well, anyhow, it's had time to be back. But it
doesn't matter now."

"No, it doesn't matter, now, Jimsy. I won't read it when it does come,
because it's all ancient history--ancient history that--that never
really happened at all! But I'm glad you wrote me, dear!" She rubbed
her cheek against his bronzed face.

"Of course I'd tell you everything about it, Skipper."

"Of course you would, Jimsy."

They were just beginning to talk about the future--beyond hurrying back
to Jimsy's father--when Carter came for them. He called to them before
he came limping into the little cleared space, which was partly his tact
in not wanting to come upon them unannounced, and partly because he
didn't want, for his own sake, to find them as he knew he would find
them, without warning. As a matter of fact, while Honor lifted her head
with its ruffled honey-colored braids from Jimsy's shoulder, he kept his
arm about her in brazen serenity.

Carter's eyes contracted for an instant, but he came close to them and
held out his hand. "Honor! This is glorious! But why didn't you wire and
let us meet you? We never dreamed of your coming! Of course, the mater
told me you were on your way home, but I didn't tell old Jimsy here, as
long as you hadn't. I knew you meant some sort of surprise. I thought
he'd hear from you from L. A. by any mail, now."

"Say, Cart', remember that long letter I wrote Skipper, the night after
the big smear?"

"Surely I do," Carter nodded.

"Well, she never got it."

"It passed her, of course. It will come back,--probably follow her down
here."

"Oh, it'll show up sometime. I gave it to you to mail, didn't I?"

"Yes, I remember it distinctly, because it was the fattest one of yours
I ever handled."

He grinned ruefully. "Yep. Had a lot on my chest that night."

"Mrs. King thought you ought to rest before dinner, Honor."

"At least I ought to make myself decent!" She smoothed the collar
Jimsy's arms had crumpled, the hair his shoulder had rubbed from its
smooth plaits. "She must think I'm weird enough as it is!"

But the Richard Kings had lived long enough in the turbulent _tierra
caliente_ to take startling things pretty much for granted. Honor's
coming was now a happily accepted fact. A cool, dim room had been made
ready for her,--a smooth floor of dull red tiles, some astonishingly
good pieces of furniture which had come, Mrs. King tol