“I am looking for Miss Imogene Ivory,” he said, with a note of eagerness in his voice. “Will you tell her please that General Stanchfield would be very glad to see her.”
Dorothea made no effort to hide her surprise as she looked up at the big soldier and he, looking down, saw the question in her eyes.
“Are you wondering what has become of Larry?” he asked with a smile. “I think you must be the young lady who helped him to escape.”
“I did what I could,” Dorothea answered. “I hope your son is safe.”
The General laughed.
“He isn’t my son, you know,” he replied. “Larry’s my nephew, named after me, to be sure, and some say he looks like me. What do you think?”
“I think he does,” Dorothea replied, a little embarrassed, and then she took him to Miss Imogene, with all sorts of romantic thoughts flying through her mind.
Some time after this Dorothea and Miss Imogene were sitting on the porch alone, talking of this or that, but usually coming back to the happy topic of the war’s ending.
“I’m so glad it’s over,” Miss Imogene said thankfully. “Now the poor soldiers on both sides can go home and lead peaceful lives and stop hating each other. You know, honey,” she went on, “I could never quite bring myself to hate the North. Perhaps the General had something to do with that,” she added, with the daintiest of blushes.
“He’s nice!” Dorothea declared. “But, Cousin Imogene, there’s a mystery that I’ve never solved. You know that Mr. Stanchfield, the General’s nephew, I mean, thought there was a Red String in this house. He was sure of it, in fact,—and so was I.” She ended with a meaning look at her cousin.