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Updated: June 25, 2025
"Jimsy, dear," she scolded him, "you know that it's the very least I can do, now isn't it honestly? Think how lovely she's been to us, and how much it means to her, having people here. And we've got all our lives ahead of us, Jimsy! Be good! And besides" she colored a little and hesitated "it's not kind to Cartie."
He stepped between her and the stairway. "Cartie! You did make me jump!" Honor smiled at him; she was so cozily at peace for the moment that she had an increased tenderness for their frail friend. "It was so still in the hotel it might be the 'night before Christmas, 'not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. You'd better go to bed," she added, maternally. "You look pale and tired."
"Cartie, I couldn't trust myself to drink it out of the pitcher ... I'm afraid ... but I'll pour out about two teaspoonfuls for each of us...." She poured an inch of water into a tiny glass. "You first, Carter." "No," said Carter, "I'm not going to touch it. It's for you and the Kings." "Carter! You're wonderful!" She drank her pitiful portion in three sips. "There ... now you, please, Cartie!
Honor ran across Figueroa Street between flashing headlights on automobiles, and her heart was soft within her. Poor old Cartie! How he must have grieved and reproached himself, and how seriously he must have taken it, to tell his mother! Fancy not forgiving people!
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