ne. But we won't, if you'd rather not. Stepper will go with
us, or Billy, or Ted."

Mrs. Lorimer sighed. She could envisage just how much efficient,
deterrent chaperonage her husband would supply.

She watched them set off for the Malibou Ranch the next Sunday morning
rather complacently, however. She had seen to it that Carter was of the
party. To be sure, he was in the tonneau with Stephen Lorimer and the
young Carmodys and Lorimers and the heroic-sized lunch box and the
thermos case, while Jimsy and Honor sat in front, but at least he was
there. There would be no ignoring Carter, as they might well ignore her
husband and sons.

Carter, talking easily and intelligently to his host about the growing
problem of Mexico, quietly watched the two in front. They were not
talking very much. Jimsy was driving and he kept his eyes on the road
for the most part, and Honor sat very straight, her hands in her lap.
Only once Carter saw, from the line of his arm, that Jimsy had put his
left hand over hers, and when it happened he stopped short in the middle
of his neat sentence and an instant later he said, coloring
faintly,--"I beg your pardon, Mr. Lorimer,--you were saying?"

Stephen Lorimer felt an intense pity for him but he did not see any
present or future help for his misery. Therefore, when they had finished
their gypsy luncheon and the younger boys were settling it by a wild
rough-house before their swim and Jimsy rose and said, "Want to walk up
the coast, Skipper?" and Honor said, "Yes,--just as soon as I've put
these things away," he went deliberately and seated himself beside
Carter and began to read aloud to him from the Sunday paper.

He looked up from the sheet to watch the boy's face as the others set
off. Carter pulled himself to his feet. He ran his tongue over his lips
in rare embarrassment. "I--don't you feel like a stroll, too, Mr.
Lorimer? After that enormous lunch, I----"

Honor's stepfather grinned. "Well, I don't feel like a stroll in that
direction, Carter. Let 'em alone,--shan't we?" He included him in the
attitude of affectionate indulgence. "I've been there myself, and you
will be there--if you haven't been already." He patted the sand beside
him. "Sit down, old man. This editorial sounds promising."

But Carter would not be denied. "Mr. Lorimer, you don't consider
it--_serious_, do you?"

"About the most serious matter in the world, I should say, Carter."

The boy refused the generalization. "