“At any rate, I’m here now!” the girl on the trunk remarked philosophically. “It’s too late to help that, isn’t it? But, if I’m in the way, I can go back to New York, can’t I? Though it’ll probably be no end of trouble.”
“To New York!” Harriot exclaimed incredulously. “Did you run the blockade?”
“No,” the other answered rather regretfully. “I wanted to—it would be a fine adventure, wouldn’t it?—but I wasn’t allowed. Papa wished me to travel by land, so they sent me down under a flag of truce. This is your mother coming in, isn’t it?”
A carriage was rolling briskly into the drive and in another moment it drew up at the block near the porch. As Mrs. May descended the stranger slipped down from the trunk and went to meet her.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Parthenia,” she said precisely. “I fancy I should have waited for an invitation from you, shouldn’t I? But father had to leave so unexpectedly—and even though we had had no answer to our letters he said it would be best for me to come, as he had information that you were still here. If you don’t want me, I suppose I can arrange for another flag of truce to go back under, can’t I?”
There was just the shadow of a break in the gentle voice as the strange girl said this; and the crisp pronunciation with its broad “a,” so different from the slow Southern drawl, held a certain appeal that went straight to Mrs. May’s heart.
“My dear child, of course you must stay,” she said, taking the young girl in her motherly arms. “You are most welcome but—but, honey, who are you?”
CHAPTER III
A GLIMPSE OF MR. LINCOLN
At Mrs. May’s question the strange girl drew back from the motherly embrace and glanced up at the older woman almost reproachfully. “I should think you would know who I am when I called you ‘Aunt Parthenia,’” she said.