“Of course!” Mrs. May nodded.
“Well,” the girl went on, “father had to come over on diplomatic business, and I begged him to bring me because I wanted to know my relations in America. When we sailed every one thought that the war would be ended by the time we arrived; but it wasn’t, so I stayed with father in Washington. I wrote you as soon as we landed, saying I was coming; and father had the letter sent through the lines. But, of course, I was not very much surprised at not hearing from you; though it never occurred to me that you might not have received my letter. Then, quite suddenly, just when we were nicely settled, father was ordered to South America.”
“And was he ’bliged to go?” demanded Harriot, munching the remains of a pecan praline garnered from Dorothea’s lunch.
“Oh, of course,” her cousin answered. “That is the way it always is in the Diplomatic Service. You can’t ever tell where you may be sent the next day. There was a ship leaving almost immediately, and father only had an hour or two to get ready if he was to reach New York in time to sail. He was for starting me back to England with Fräulein—”
“Who was she?” asked April.
“My governess and companion,” Dorothea replied with a laugh. “I wonder where she is now, poor Fräulein? Well, I teased father to let me try to come here if I could safely, and he said I might. Then he took the train, and a few days afterward I started South.”
“But, my dear,” Mrs. May exclaimed, “there must have been something more than that. How could you travel without an escort?”
“Besides, the Yankees would never let you through their lines,” April put in bitterly. “Did you run the blockade?”
“I thought for a little while I should have to, if I was to come at all,” Dorothea continued. “You see, just before he left, father wrote a letter to the Secretary of War, Mr. Stanton, asking that I be permitted to go through the Union lines on my way here. So the next day I went to see Mr. Stanton. It was a long time before I was let into his office; but at last I was, and he sat at a large desk with father’s letter, which I had sent in to him, in his hand. He looked at me pretty sharply.
“‘Well, young lady,’ he began at once. ‘You might have spared yourself this trip. I have issued the last pass through our lines.’