“I know,” sighed her aunt. “I’d give my small emerald ring for such a digestion as you have, Harriot. By the way, there’s a raspberry tart somewhere. You might just as well eat it up. It disagreed with me horribly.” “I have!” Harriot replied with a triumphant grin, and they went down stairs after saying good-by. “As sure as you’re born, Dee,” Harriot said as they started to get into the carriage, “Aunt Cora won’t go away now any more than she did the other times she started.” “I don’t believe she will, either,” Dorothea agreed absently, for her mind was upon the matter that had brought her there so willingly. She wanted to go through the Coulter Woods alone and she was now alert to seize the first opportunity that offered to try her plan. Harriot, driving the old horse, chattered on, seemingly unmindful of Dorothea’s indifferent answers, and presently they neared the place where the path entered the woods. “My, but this is a slow horse,” Dorothea suddenly remarked out of a clear sky; which was doing the animal something of an injustice, and Harriot immediately rushed to its defense, as Dorothea hoped she would. “It’s not so slow at all,” Harriot contradicted promptly. “Mose isn’t very young any more, but he’s not so slow either.” “I could walk home quicker than we’ll get there this way,” Dorothea answered with exaggerated scorn. “You could not,” Harriot answered. “You couldn’t possibly, even if you ran through the woods.” “Oh, pshaw,” remarked Dorothea. “I could crawl through the woods and beat you home.” “I’ll bet you our dessert for supper you can’t!” Harriot challenged promptly and pulled up the horse at the path. “All right,” cried Dorothea, jumping down into the road. “We’ll see who eats two desserts,” and with a wave of her hand she plunged out of sight while Harriot chirped old Mose into a good trot. Once safe from observation Dorothea slowed her walk to a saunter. Before she had attained her object she had pictured Lee Hendon as popping out from behind every bush; but now that she was actually among the trees she realized that if he was in hiding he would scarcely wish to be seen by a stranger wandering that way. Yet, if he was there, she must find him, for she did not know when another such chance would present itself. She dared not call his name. It was possible, of course, that, save for him, she was the only person within miles; but she could not be certain of this. And how could she show him that she was a person to be trusted? That seemed a difficult thing to accomplish. Then, of a sudden, she remembered her coming to the South under a flag of truce, honored alike by the Confederacy and the Union. She would show a white flag and if Lee Hendon saw her he would at least know that she was not an enemy. Her handkerchief, she decided, was too small, but she had a large white veil and this she tied to the handle of her parasol. Then she talked slowly on, waving her improvised flag in the air.