Play the Game!

by Ruth Comfort Mitchell

  CHAPTER XI

  It was happily clear at breakfast that Stephen Lorimer had more or lessmade his peace--and Honor's peace--with his wife. Like his beloved Job,whom he knew almost by heart, he had ordered his cause and filled hismouth with arguments, and Mildred Lorimer had come to see somethingrather splendidly romantic in her daughter's quest for her true love.Stephen, who never appeared at breakfast, was down on time, heavy-eyedand flushed, and Honor saw with a pang, in the stern morning light, thathe was middle-aged. Her gay young stepfather! His spirit had put aperiod at nineteen, but his tired body was settling back into the slacklines of the late fifties. Her mother had changed but little, thanks tothe unruffled serenity of her spirit and the skillful hands which caredfor her.

  "Muzzie," Honor had said, meeting her alone in the morning, "you are amarvel! Why, you haven't a single gray hair!"

  "It's--well, I suppose it's because I have it taken care of," said Mrs.Lorimer, flushing faintly. "It's not a dye. It's not in the least adye--it simply _keeps_ the original color in the hair, that's all. Iwouldn't think of using a dye. In the first place, they say it's reallydangerous,--it seeps into the brain and affects your mind, and in thesecond place it gives your face a hard look, always,--and besides, Idon't approve of it. But this thing Madame uses for me is _perfectly_harmless, Honor."

  "It's perfectly charming, Muzzie," said her daughter, giving her ahearty hug. It was a good world this morning. The breakfast table wasgay, and Kada beamed. Takasugi had made countless pop-overs--Honor'sfavorites--and Kada was slipping in and out with heaping plates of them."Pop-all-overs" the littlest Lorimer called them, steaming,golden-hearted. Honor had sung for them and the Old Guard the nightbefore and even the smallest of the boys was impressed and was treatingher this morning with an added deference which flowered in many passingsof the marmalade and much brotherly banter. The girl herself wasradiant. Nothing could be very wrong in a world like this. Suppose Jimsyhad slipped once--twice--half a dozen times, when she was far awayacross the water? One swallow didn't make a spring and one slip (orseveral) didn't make a "Wild King" out of Jimsy. She was going to findhim and talk it over and straighten it out and bring him back here wherehe belonged, where they both belonged, where they would stay. Hisexpulsion from Stanford really simplified matters, when you came tothink of it; now there need be no tiresome talk of waiting until hegraduated from college. And she had not the faintest intention of goingback to Italy. Just as soon as Jimsy could find something to do (and hergood Stepper would see to that) they would be married and move into theold King house, and _how_ she would love opening it up to the sun andair and making it gay with new colors! All this in her quiet mind whileshe breakfasted sturdily with her noisy tribe. Good to be with themagain, better still to be coming back to them, to stay with them, tolive beside them, always.

  Her train went at ten and the boys would be in school and her mother hadan appointment with the lady whose ministrations kept her hair at itsnatural tint and Honor would not hear of her breaking it, so it was herstepfather only who took her to the station. She was rather glad of thatand it made her put an unconscious extra fervor, remorsefully, into herfarewells to the rest. Just as she was leaving her room there was athump on her door and a simultaneous opening of it. Ted, her eldestCarmody brother, came in and closed the door behind him. He was a Seniorat L. A. High, a football star of the second magnitude and a personableyouth in all ways, and her heart warmed to him.

  "Ted,--dear! I thought you'd gone to school!"

  "I'm just going. Sis,--I"--he came close to her, his bonny young facesuddenly scarlet--"I just wanted to say--I know why you're going downthere, and--and I'm for you a million! He's all right, old Jimsy. Don'tyou let anybody tell you he isn't. I--you're a sport to pike down thereall by yourself. _You're all right_, Sis! I'm strong for you!"

  "Ted!" The distance between them melted; she felt the hug of his hardyoung arms and there was a lump in her throat and tears in her eyes, butshe fought them back. He would be aghast at her if she cried. Hewouldn't be for her a million any longer. She must not break down thoughshe felt more like it than at any time since her arrival. She keptsilent and let him pat her clumsily and heavily till she could commandher voice. "I'm glad you want me to go, Teddy."

  "You bet I do. You stick, Sis! _And don't you let Carter spill thebeans!_"

  "Why, Ted, he----"

  "You keep an eye on that bird," said the boy, grimly. "You keep yourlamps lit!"

  She repeated his words to her stepfather as they drove to the station."Why do you suppose he said that, Stepper?"

  Stephen Lorimer shrugged. "I don't think he meant anything specific,T. S., but you know the kids have never cared for Carter."

  "I know; it's that he isn't their type. They haven't understood him."

  "Or--it's that they have."

  "Stepper! You, too?" Honor was driving and she did not turn her head tolook at him, but he knew the expression of her face from the tone of hervoice. "Do you mean that, seriously?"

  "I think I do, T. S. Look here,--we might as well talk things overstraight from the shoulder this morning. Shall we?"

  "Please do, Stepper." She turned into a quieter street and drove moreslowly, so that she was able to face him for an instant, her facetroubled.

  "Want me to drive?"

  "No,--I like the feel of the wheel again, after so long. You talk,Stepper."

  "Well, T. S., I've no tangible charge to make against Carter, save thathis influence has been consistently bad for Jimsy since the first dayhe limped into our ken. Consistently and--_persistently_ bad, T. S. Youknow--since we're not dealing in persiflage this morning--that Carter isquite madly, crazily, desperately in love with you?"

  "I--yes, I suppose that's what you'd call it, Stepper. He--rather losthis head last summer,--the night before you sailed."

  "But the night before we sailed," said her stepfather, drawing from hisneatly card-indexed memory, "it was with me that you held a little lastsession."

  "Yes,--but on my way upstairs. The lift had stopped, you know. I wasfrightfully angry at him and said something cruel, but the next morninghe looked so white and wretched and wrote me such a pathetic letter,asking me to forgive and forget and all that sort of thing, and I senthim a wire to the steamer, saying I would."

  "Ah! That was his telegram. We wondered."

  "And he's been very nice since, in the few letters I've had from him."

  "I daresay. But Ted's right, Top Step. In the parlance of the saints you_do_ 'want to keep your lamps lit.' Carter, denied health and strengthand physical glory, has had everything else he's ever wanted exceptyou,--and he hasn't given you up yet."

  Honor nodded, her face flushed, her eyes straight ahead.

  "And now--more plain talk, T. S. This is a fine, sporting, ratherspectacular thing you're doing, going down to Mexico after Jimsy, andI'm absolutely with you, but--if the worst should be true--if the boyreally has gone to pieces--you won't marry him?"

  "No," said the girl steadily, after an instant's pause. "If Jimsy shouldbe--like his father--I wouldn't marry him, Stepper. There shouldn'tbe--any _more_ 'Wild Kings.' But I'd never marry any one else, and--oh,but it would be a long time to live, Stepper, dear!"

  "I'm betting you'll find him in good shape,--and keep him so, Top Step.At any rate, however it comes out, you'll always be glad you went."

  "I know I will."

  "Yes; you're that sort of woman, T. S.,--the 'whither thou goest' kind.I believe women may roughly be divided into two classes; those whopassively let themselves be loved; those who actively love. The formerhave the easier time of it, my dear." His tired eyes visioned his wife,now closeted with Madame. He sighed once and then he smiled. "And theyget just as much in return, let me tell you,--more, I really believe.But I want you to promise me one thing."

  "What?"

  "That you'll never give up your singing. Keep it always, T. S. There'llbe times when you need it--to run away to--to hide in."

  She nodded, soberly.
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br />   His eyes began to kindle. "Every woman ought to have something! Menhave. It should be with women as with men--love a thing apart in theirlives, not their whole existence! Then they wouldn't agonize and wear oneach other so! I believe there's a chapter in that, for my book, TopStep."

  "I'm sure there is," said Honor, warmly. They had reached the stationnow and a red cap came bounding for her bags. "And I won't even try tothank you, Stepper, dear, for all----"

  "Don't be a goose, T. S.,--look! There are your Mexicans!"

  Honor followed his eyes. "Aren't they _delicious_?" They hurried towardthem. "The girl's adorable!"

  "They all are." Stephen Lorimer performed the introductions with propergrace and seriousness and they all stood about in strained silence untilthe Senora was nervously sure they ought to be getting on board. "Mightas well, T. S.," her stepfather said. She was looking rather white, hethought, and they might as well have the parting over. Honor was verysteady about it. "Good-by, Stepper. I'll write you at once, and you'llkeep us posted about Mr. King?" She stood on the observation platform,waving to him, gallantly smiling, and he managed his own whimsical grinuntil her train curved out of sight. One in a thousand, his Top Step.How she had added to the livableness of life for him since the day shehad gravely informed her mother that she believed she liked him betterthan her own father, that busy gentleman who had stayed so largely DownTown at The Office! Stephen Lorimer was too intensely and healthilyinterested in the world he was living in to indulge in pallid curiosityabout the one beyond, but now his mind entertained a brief wonder ...did he know, that long dead father of Honor Carmody, about this gloriousgirl of his? Did he see her now, setting forth on this quest; thispilgrimage to her True Love, as frankly and freely as she would havegone to nurse him in sickness? He grinned and gave himself a shake as hewent back to the machine,--he had lost too much sleep lately. He wouldturn in for a nap before luncheon; Mildred would not be out of herMadame's deft hands until noon.

  The family of Menendez y Garci-a beamed upon Honor with shy cordiality.Senor Menendez was a dapper little gentleman, got up with exquisite carefrom the perfect flower on his lapel to his small cloth-topped patentleather shoes, but his wife was older and larger and had a tiny, sternmustache which made her seem the more male and dominant figure of thetwo. Mariquita, the girl, was all father, and she had been a year in aLos Angeles convent. The mother wore rich but dowdy black and animpossible headgear, a rather hawklike affair which appeared to havealighted by mistake on the piles of dusky hair where it was shakilybalancing itself, but Mariquita's narrow blue serge was entirely modish,and her tan pumps, and sheer amber silk hose, and her impudent hat. TheSenor spent a large portion of his time in the smoker and the Senorabent over a worn prayer book or murmured under her breath as her fingersslipped over the beads in her lap, but the girl chattered unceasingly.Her English was fluent but she had kept an intriguing accent.

  "Ees he not beautiful, Mees Carmody, my Papa?" She pushed the accentforward to the first syllable. "And my poor _Madrecita_ of a homely tochill the blood? _But_ a saint, my mawther. Me, I am not so good. Also_gracias a Dios_, I am not so----" she leaned forward to regard herselfin the narrow strip of mirror between the windows and--a wary eye on theSenora--applied a lip stick to her ripe little mouth. She wanted at onceto know about Honor's sweethearts. "_A fe mia_--in all your life but one_novio_? Me, I have now seex. So many have I since I am twelve years Ican no longer count for you!" She shrugged her perilously plump littleshoulders. "One! Jus' like I mus' have a new hat, I mus' have a new_novio_!"

  They were all a little formal with her until after they had left El Pasoand crossed the Mexican border at Juarez, when their manner became atonce easy, hospitable, proprietary. They pointed out the features of thelandscape and the stations where they paused, they plied her unceasinglywith the things they purchased every time the train hesitated longenough for _vendadors_ to hold up their wares at the windows,--_fresas_(the famous strawberries in little leaf baskets), _higos_ (fat figs),_helado_ (a thin and over-sweet ice cream), and the delectable _Cajetade Celaya_, the candy made of milk and fruit paste and magic. They werebehind time and the train seemed to loiter in serenest unconcern. SenorMenendez came back from the smoker with a graver face every day. Themen who came on board from the various towns brought tales of unrest andfeverish excitement, of violence, even, in some localities.

  If his friends could not be sure of meeting Honor at Cordoba and drivingher to the Kings' _hacienda_ the Senor himself would escort her, afterseeing his wife and daughter home. Honor assured him that she was notafraid, that she would be quite safe, and she was thoroughly convincedof it herself; nothing would be allowed to happen to her on her way toJimsy.

  "Your father is so good," she said gratefully to Mariquita.

  "Yes," she smiled. "My Papa ees of a deeferent good; he ees glad-good,an' my _Madrecita_ ees sad-good. Me--I am _bad_-good! You know, I mus'go to church wiz my mawther, but my Papa, he weel not go. He nevair say'No' to my mawther; he ees _too_ kind. Jus' always on the church day heis seek. _So_ seek ees my poor Papa on the church day!" She flung backher head and laughed and showed her short little white teeth.

  But Senor Menendez had an answer to his telegram on the morning of theday on which they were to part; his friend, the eminent _Profesor_,Hidalgo Morales, accompanied by his daughter, Senorita Refugio, wouldwithout fail be waiting for Miss Carmody when her train reached Cordobaand would see her safely into the hands of her friends. Honor saidgood-by reluctantly to the family of Menendez y Garcia; the beautifullittle father kissed her hand and the grave mother gave her a blessingand Mariquita embraced her passionately and kissed her on both cheeksand produced several entirely genuine tears. She saw them greeted by aflock of relatives and friends on the platform but they waved devotedlyto her as long as she could see them. Then she had a quiet and solitaryday and in the silence the old anxieties thrust out their heads again,but she drove them sturdily back, forcing herself to pay attention tothe picture slipping by the car window,--the lovely languid _tierracaliente_ which was coming to meet her. The old _Profesor_ and hisdaughter were waiting for her; shy, kindly, earnest, less traveled thanthe Menendez', with a covered carriage which looked as if it might be arelic of the days of Maximilian. Conversation drowsed on the long driveto the Kings' coffee plantation; the Senorita spoke no English andHonor's High School Spanish got itself annoyingly mixed with Italian,and the old gentleman, after minute inquiries as to her journey and thestate of health of his cherished friend, Senor Felipe Hilario Menendezy Garcia, sank into placid thought. It was a ridiculous day for winter,even to a Southern Californian, and the tiny villages through which theypassed looked like gay and shabby stage settings.

  The _Profesor_ roused at last. "We arrive, Senorita," he announced, witha wave of his hand. They turned in at a tall gateway of lacy ironworkand Honor's heart leaped--"_El Pozo_." Richard King.

  "The name is given because of the old well," the Mexican explained. "Itis very ancient, very deep--without bottom, the _peons_ believe." Theydrew up before a charming house of creamy pink plaster and red tiles,rioted over by flowering vines. "I wait but to make sure that Senor orSenora King is at home." A soft-eyed Mexican woman came to the door andsmiled at them, and there was a rapid exchange of liquid sentence. "Theyare both at home, Senorita. We bid you farewell."

  The servant, wide-eyed and curious, had come at his command to takeHonor's bags.

  "Oh--but--surely you'll wait? Won't you come in and rest? It was such along, warm drive, and you must be tired."

  He bowed, hat in hand, shaking his handsome silver head. "We leave youto the embraces of your friends, Senorita. One day we will do ourselvesthe honor to call upon you, and Senor and Senora King, whom it is ourprivilege to know very slightly. For the present, we are content to haveserved you."

  "Oh," said Honor in her hearty and honest voice, holding out a frankhand, "this is the _kindest_ country! _Every one_ has been so good tome! I wish I could thank you enough!"

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p; The old gentleman stood very straight and a dark color surged up in hisswarthy face. "Then, dear young lady, you will perhaps have thegraciousness to say a pleasant word for us in that country of yourswhich does not love us too well! You will perhaps say we are not allbarbarians." He gave an order to his coachman and the quaint oldcarriage turned slowly and precisely and started on its long returntrip, the _Profesor_, still bareheaded, bowing, his daughter beaming andkissing her hand. Honor held herself rigidly to the task of seeing themoff. Then--_Jimsy!_ Where was he? She had had a childish feeling that hewould be instantly visible when she got there; she had come from Italyto Mexico,--from Florence to a coffee plantation beyond Cordoba in the_tierra caliente_ to find him,--and journeys ended in lovers' meeting,every wise man's son--and daughter--knew. The nods and becks andwreathed smiles of the serving woman brought her back to earth.

  "Senora King?" She asked, dutifully, for her hostess--her unconscioushostess--first.

  "_Si Senorita! Pronto!_" The servant beckoned her into a dim, cool_sala_ and disappeared. "Well, I know what that means," Honor toldherself. "'Right away.' Oh, I _hope_ it's right away!"

  But it was not. The Kings, like all sensible people, were at their_siesta_; twenty racking moments went by before they came in. RichardKing was older than Jimsy's father but he had the same look of race andpride, and his wife was a plain, rather tired-looking Englishwoman withvery white teeth and broodingly tender blue eyes which belied thebriskness of her manner.

  "I am Honor Carmody."

  "You are----" Mrs. King came forward, frowning a little.

  "I--I am engaged to your nephew--to Jimsy King. I think you must haveheard of me."

  "My dear, of course we have! How very nice to see you! But--how--andwhere did you----"

  The girl interrupted breathlessly. "Oh, please,--I'll tell youeverything, in a minute. But I must know about him! I came from Italybecause--because of his trouble at college. Is he--is he----" she kepttelling herself that she was Honor Carmody, the tomboy-girl who nevercried or made scenes--Jimsy's Skipper--her dear Stepper's Top Step; shewas not a silly creature in a novel; she would not scream and beg themto tell her--_tell her_--even if they stood there staring at her forhours longer. And then she heard Richard King saying in a voice verylike his brother's, a little like Jimsy's:

  "Why, the boy's all right! Ab-so-lutely all right! Isn't he, Madeline?Steady as a clock. That college nonsense----"

  And then Honor found herself leaning back in a marvelously comfortablechair by an open window and Mr. King was fanning her slowly and stronglyand Mrs. King was making her drink something cool and pungent, andtelling her it was the long, hot drive out from Cordoba in the heat ofthe day and that she mustn't try to talk for a little while. Honorobeyed them docilely for what she was sure was half an hour and whichwas in fact five minutes and then she sat up straight and decisively."I'm _perfectly_ all right now, thank you. Will you tell me where I canfind Jimsy?"

  "I expect he's taking his nap down at the old well. I'll send for him.You must be quiet, my dear."

  She got to her feet and let them see how steady she was. "_Please_ letme go to him!"

  "But Josita will fetch him in less time, my dear, and we'll have Cartercalled, too, and----" Mrs. King stopped abruptly at the look in thegirl's eyes. "Josita will show you the way," she said in quite anothertone. "You must carry my sunshade and not walk too quickly."

  Honor tried not to walk too quickly but she kept catching up with theMexican serving woman and passing her on the path, and falling backagain with a smile of apology, and the woman smiled in return, showingwhite, even teeth. It was not as long a walk as it seemed, but theirpace made it consume ten interminable minutes. At length the twistingwalk twisted once more and gave on a cleared space, meltingly green,breathlessly still, an ancient stone well in its center.

  Josita gestured with a brown hand. "_Alla esta Senorito Don Diego!Adios, Senorita!_"

  "_Gracias!_" Honor managed.

  "_Te nada!_" She smiled and turned back along the way they had come. "Itis nothing!" she had said. Nothing to have brought her on the last stageof her long quest! Jimsy was asleep in the deep grass in the shade. Shewent nearer to him, stepping softly, hardly breathing. He was stretchedat ease, his sleeves rolled high on his tanned arms, his tanned throatbare, his crisp hair rolling back from his brow in the old stubbornwave, his thick lashes on his cheek. His skin was as clean and clear asa little boy's; he looked a little boy, sleeping there. She leaned overhim and he stirred and sighed happily, as if dimly aware of hernearness. She tried to speak to him, to say--"Jimsy!" but she found shecould not manage it, even in a whisper. So she sat down beside him andgathered him into her arms.