“It is very like her, dear,” she said finally. “Very like her, indeed. She was just as sweet and pretty as this painting shows her to be.” “That is how I think of her,” Dorothea remarked. “And that is the face I see sometimes in my dreams. But I am never sure whether it is my real mother or the remembrance of the picture that I see. Yet, somehow, I have felt sure she was like that and it is a comfort to me to have the picture with me. It makes her seem nearer to me.” “Do you always wear it on your wrist?” asked Mrs. May. “Always,” answered Dorothea. “Father told me red was her favorite color, so I have a supply of red ribbons to mount it on. And, you know, Aunt Parthenia, except for father, who gave it to me, you are the only one who has seen it. At school lots of the girls wondered what was in the locket, but, somehow, I never wanted to tell them. It was as if mother and I had that little picture between us and it wasn’t a thing you could show to strangers. You think I’m right, don’t you?” “I am sure you are, dear, if it gives you any comfort,” Mrs. May answered earnestly. “Well, it does,” Dorothea went on. “You see, for a while I was at boarding-school and father was all alone. Then he wanted me with him, for mother’s sake mostly, I think, and ever since we have been living first in one place and then in another, all over the world. It’s been very interesting, but it has never been like home; for of course I rarely stayed anywhere long enough to make any real friends. That is one of the reasons why I wanted so much to see you and my cousins. That, and to talk to you of mother.” “And to find a real home, Dorothea,” Mrs. May murmured, patting the girl’s hand. “Hereafter, no matter what happens, there is always a place for you here, and the girls will soon be like your sisters.” “April is wonderful,” Dorothea said warmly; “and Harriot is so funny and dear. I know I shall love them. Indeed I loved you all just as soon as I saw you. You were all so good and kind and made me feel welcome right away. In England, now, it would have taken weeks and weeks before I should have been able to talk to you like this.” “I understand,” Mrs. May agreed, nodding. “In the South you will find that every one is very friendly. In one way or another most of the people down here are kin to each other or else they are friends of our friends, so it is just like one big family. If it wasn’t for this terrible war you would see how happily we live.” There was a pause for a moment, Dorothea looking out of the window with her face very thoughtful. “You know, Aunt Parthenia,” she said, after a little, “I saw the soldiers on both sides as I came through.” “Yes, I know,” Mrs. May replied, “and I thought there was something you didn’t want to talk about.” “There was,” Dorothea confessed; “I’m sure you’ll understand, Aunt Parthenia, but I didn’t know what the others might think. You see I don’t believe the South can win the war—though I’m awfully _for_ it.”