A lonely, gruff old man in Silvertree read of it, and when the drawn curtains had shut him away from the scrutiny of his neighbors, he walked the floor, back and forth, following the worn track in the dingy carpet, thinking.

They talked of it at the Caravansary, and were proud; and many men and women who had met her by chance, or had watched her with interest, openly rejoiced.

“They’re coming on, the Addams breed of citizens,” said they.  “Here’s a new one with the trick—­whatever it is—­of making us think and care and listen.  She’s getting at the roots of our disease, and it’s partly because she’s a woman.  She sees that it has to be right with the children if it’s to be right with the family.  Long live the Addams breed!”

Friends wired their congratulations, and their comments were none the less acceptable because they were premature.  Many wrote her; Ray McCrea, alone, of her intimate associates, was silent.  Kate guessed why, but she lacked time to worry.  She only knew that her great scheme was afoot—­that it went.  But she would have been less than mortal if she had not felt a thrill of commingled apprehension and satisfaction at the fact that Kate Barrington, late of Silvertree and its gossiping, hectoring, wistful circles, was in the foreground.  She had had an Idea which could be utilized in the high service of the world, and the most utilitarian and idealistic public in the world had seized upon it.

So, naturally enough, the affairs of Honora Fulham became somewhat blurred to Kate’s perception.  Besides, she was unable to decide what to do.  She had heard that one should never interfere between husband and wife.  Moreover, she was very young, and she believed in her friends.  Others might do wrong, but not one’s chosen.  People of her own sort had temptations, doubtless, but they overcame them.  That was their business—­that was their obligation.  She might proclaim herself a democrat, but she was a moral aristocrat, at any rate.  She depended upon those in her class to do right.

She was a trifle chilled when she returned to find how little time Honora had to give to her unfolding of the great new scheme.  Honora had her own excitement.  Her wonderful experiment was drawing to a culmination.  Honora could talk of nothing else.  If Kate wanted to promulgate a scheme for the caring for the Born, very well.  Honora had a tremendous business with the Unborn.  So she talked Kate down.

XVI

Then came the day of Honora’s victory!

It had been long expected, yet when it came it had the effect of a miracle.  It was, however, a miracle which she realized.  She was burningly aware that her great moment had come.