“Could it be Aunt Decent?” Dorothea whispered.
“It might be,” Miss Imogene replied. “That old colored woman is a great power among the servants and she could be of a great deal of help to any one who needed it. I don’t know what to think, and after all, honey, these Red Strings are very secret and we’ll probably never know for sure. Perhaps there wasn’t one about here at all.”
“Mr. Stanchfield was so sure,” Dorothea began, but here they were interrupted, and the subject was dropped.
That evening after Dorothea had gone to her room for the night there came a gentle knock at the door and she admitted Miss Imogene, who wore so radiant a smile that Dorothea gave her a hug before anything was said.
“I don’t deserve it,” Miss Imogene whispered, “but I shall be very happy. The General has asked me to marry him.”
“I’m so glad!” exclaimed Dorothea, nestling close to the dear little lady. “And you do deserve to be happy. You try to make every one happy around you.”
“That’s sweet of you, honey,” Miss Imogene murmured. “I can only think of one more thing to wish for. You remember young Larry Stanchfield, don’t you?”
“To be sure,” Dorothea answered, drawing back in her surprise. “I couldn’t forget him.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Miss Imogene said quickly, “because, my dear, it would be so nice if—” she hesitated an instant, “if some day you were my niece instead of my cousin.”
Dorothea blushed.