“That is a very good idea, my dear,” she commented. “Harriot, my love, run and tell Corinne to bring us the fruit cake after all. We had much better enjoy it than have the Yankees gobbling it up.”
Harriot did not wait to hear the end of the sentence. She was not minded to tarry and give her aunt an opportunity to change her mind once more.
“Honey,” Mrs. Stewart began at once, the moment they were alone, “I sent Harriot away with Corinne on purpose. I have had some news that I am at a loss to know how to break to the family, and perhaps you can make some suggestion. It is not a matter to be gossiped about. Mrs. Hendon was buried yesterday afternoon!”
She stopped and looked at Dorothea as if she expected some demonstration of overwhelming surprise on the part of the young girl.
“Is that Mr. Lee Hendon’s mother?” Dorothea asked calmly.
“Yes, my dear,” came the hurried answer. “You’ve heard of the situation with April, of course? You couldn’t be in the town five minutes without hearing of it, I’m sure.”
“Yes, I have heard of it,” said Dorothea. “Now that his poor mother is dead, everything will be all right, won’t it?”
“You would think so, wouldn’t you?” Mrs. Stewart hurried on, “but that’s the awkward part of it. President Davis has passed a law that every white man of proper age who doesn’t report for military duty is liable to death as a deserter. You see what that means?”
“No, I don’t,” Dorothea confessed.
“Well, my love, it’s plain enough,” Mrs. Stewart explained, as if to a very stupid child. “Lee Hendon never went back home from his mother’s grave after the funeral yesterday afternoon. He has disappeared completely. No one knows where he is—and there can be only one explanation.”