“I will be glad to have Cousin Imogene back,” she said to herself, as the carriage rolled up the drive and drew up to let the dainty little lady she was thinking of descend in state, spreading her furbelows magnificently.
“I was just this minute wishing you were here!” Dorothea exclaimed, throwing her arms about Miss Imogene. It was unusual, for the English bred girl was not given to such demonstrations of affection, and the older woman was a little surprised.
“I believe you are glad to see me,” she said, as she kissed Dorothea. “It is just like an American welcome you gave me.”
“Well, I’m half American,” Dorothea answered with an embarrassed little laugh. She realized that in giving way to this impulse she was running counter to her training; but, curiously enough, she didn’t care. “Sometimes I’m sorry I’m not all American.”
“You will be, in time,” Miss Imogene replied lightly, taking a chair beside the one Dorothea had been occupying. “Sit down, dear, and tell me your news.”
“How did you know I had any news?” demanded Dorothea, her eyes widening with surprise.
“I guessed,” Miss Imogene answered, “and now I know. Come, out with it!”
“I have seen Mr. Stanchfield again,” the girl whispered, after looking about her to make sure she was not overheard. “He was disguised as a wounded Confederate soldier.”
There was no doubt Miss Imogene was interested. She leaned close to Dorothea and urged her to tell all she knew, listening with scarcely an interruption till the tale was finished.
“And so Val Tracy helped him away,” Miss Ivory murmured at the end, more than half to herself. “I wonder what is behind that?”