Her first intention was to go to her mother and tell her flatly that Dorothea could no longer stay there. But, upon thinking it over, she saw the weakness of her position with Mrs. May. If the spy had been any one but Lee Hendon there would have been no hesitation; but here was the man she loved deeply involved—and she had saved him from capture! That act she excused to herself, and perhaps here lay an added reason for her bitterness toward Dorothea. Also her mother, frankly lukewarm toward the Southern cause, would be ready enough to defend Dorothea to the last; but the argument that had most weight in her thoughts was that here was a matter that concerned primarily the head of the house. Her father should be the one to determine what should be done in such a case; for, in a measure, she conceived the honor of family to be at stake; but Colonel May was quite inaccessible, so naturally she concluded that Hal must take their father’s place. But, like Dorothea, she had no wish to burden Hal until he was convalescent. She counted upon the fact that Dorothea would do nothing until she was forced to, attributing the most obvious motives to her, convinced that she would remain in Washington as long as she could in the hope of gaining further information that would be useful to the Northern armies. But she felt herself a match for her cousin, who, she had the satisfaction of knowing, never left the place unobserved. At last April determined that Hal was well enough to hear her story and, with a sense of fairness, she determined that Dorothea should be present. With that in view she ascertained that, save for Big Jim, Hal was alone on the piazza and went upstairs to fetch Dorothea. On her way up, however, she met her cousin coming down. “I was just coming up for you,” April remarked. “I want you to come out and see Hal.” “I was just going to see him,” Dorothea replied calmly, and together the two went out on the porch. “I’m in luck to-day,” Hal cried as the two sat down, one on either side of him. “Two such lovely females all to myself is an unexpected pleasure,” and he smiled at Dorothea; but, receiving no answering smile, he looked from one to the other, sensing a seriousness in their visit that puzzled him. “Big Jim,” April said to the boy, “you may go to the Quarters till you’re sent for.” And with a grin the colored lad went off. “What’s up?” asked Hal. “You look as if there was more bad news.” “No, Hal, it isn’t that,” April responded quickly, “but it isn’t cheerful news, either. I have a very disagreeable task to perform, but it must be done. Our cousin Dorothea is one of this band of Red Strings!” She made the announcement as calmly as she could, but there was the light of excited indignation in her eyes and she could not keep a trace of scorn out of her tone.