“Honor, what kind of an apple-cart have you upset now?” her brother demanded, stepping to her with his uneven gait.
She smiled at him, white still. “Did you see? Wasn’t he gorgeous? It was hard as death—but he wouldn’t—betray—the Mannering word. Oh, Eric, it is good to feel proud of him,” and she finished under her breath—“for once.”
“It is,” Eric agreed soberly. “It will make over his life to help the country, like the others—grandfather and such. I can’t see how you dared dream—” And then he caught her by the shoulder. “But, Honor—you’ve thrown away—your career.” He gripped her so that it hurt. She swayed a bit, standing facing him, looking into his eyes almost on a level.
“Don’t you suppose—I realize?” She gasped the words. “It’s been coming—I’ve been—fighting against it. I—I love—my country.”
With that she slid from his hand and tumbled in a heap, and the pink and red roses splashed about her. “Oh, Eric—Oh, you’re such a donkey—” she sobbed, with her face in her hands. “Listening to you—your speeches—going right to my heart—these weeks! Oh—you idiot, don’t pull my hair down! And me just human. What did you think I was—cold boiled fish? Oh, Eric—I adore you so—and that voice of yours gets right through—everything. Selfishness, and ambition, and—and piggishness—it’s all no use. You’re such a—a horrid saint. I have to—do as you say. And Eric—darling old Eric—it’s mostly on account of my children, anyhow.”
“Your children!” the astounded Eric managed to put in there, and both went off into shrieks of mad laughter.
“You awful stupid,” the girl sobbed through laughing. “You said—they’d ask what we’d done—to make the world safe—to help America. And I won’t have any upstarts of children—taunting me—that I—I didn’t buy Liberty Bonds. So—so I’m going to put in every penny—and then I’ll throw it in their old teeth—and I hope it’ll break ’em.”
“Honor,” spoke young Eric, and caught his breath to speak. “Honor, you’re the sweetest and finest thing in the world, and I’m prouder to be your brother than of anything on earth.” And Honor knew that no voice to come in life would ever sound sweeter in her ears than her brother’s as he said the words.
Later, when the two had taken in hand the new situation, Eric, his arm about his sister’s shoulders, sitting beside her on the grass of the old garden, spoke. “There’s a thing I want to tell you, Honor, but I hate to for fear it may bother you.”
“What?”