"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! Just one swallow!"
But Carter shook his head. "No; I don't need it. Shall I take this to Mrs. King?"
"Yes." Her sad eyes knighted him.
Carter took the pitcher of water to Mrs. King without touching a drop of it and helped her to strain the fern bits out of it through a handkerchief before she began to give it to her husband in spoonfuls. With the first sip he ceased his uneasy murmuring and she smiled up at the boy. "Thank you, Carter. It's very splendid of you. Won't you take a sip for yourself?"
Carter said he did not need it.
"You do look fresher, really. You've stood this thing extraordinarily well. Did you give Honor some?"
"She would take only a taste."
Madeline King's eyes filled. "This is a black night for her, Carter. The thirst—and the insurrectos—are the least of it for Honor."
Carter's eyes were bleak. "But she had to know it some time. She had to find it out, sooner or later. She couldn't have gone on with it, Mrs. King."