"You keep an eye on that bird," said the boy, grimly. "You keep your lamps 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 to look at him, but he knew the expression of her face from the tone of her voice. "Do you mean that, seriously?"
"I think I do, T. S. Look here,—we might as well talk things over straight from the shoulder this morning. Shall we?"
"Please do, Stepper." She turned into a quieter street and drove more slowly, so that she was able to face him for an instant, her face troubled.
"Want me to drive?"