“You seem a very mild Rebel,” Mrs. May laughed, getting to her feet; “and you’ll be a very tired one if you don’t rest a little. Remember you have a lot of people to meet to-night and I want my Susie’s baby to do her mother justice.” She rose to her feet and, leaning down, kissed the girl again. “I am glad to have you here, dear, for your own sake as well as for your mother’s.” Dorothea’s heart was too full to make a reply, but she hugged her aunt, who understood, and a moment later left the girl alone. CHAPTER VI RED STRINGS One of those most deeply interested in the arrival of Dorothea was Lucy, the colored girl whom Mrs. May had appointed to attend upon her niece. Her mistress’s pretty clothes set the little maid in an ecstasy of delight and she would have liked nothing better than to dress Dorothea in all of them, one after the other, to see how they looked. She was ready for all sorts of gossip, and while she combed and braided her young lady’s hair she talked at a great rate of the quality folks in the neighborhood, of “Ol’ Miss,” as she called Mrs. May, and “Young Miss,” meaning April. A good deal of the talk Dorothea could make neither head nor tail of, but she liked to listen to the soft Southern accents and smiled more than once at the unfamiliar expressions, of which she comprehended but half the meaning. She was almost dressed when there was a knock at the door and Miss Imogene floated into the room with her bright, bird-like air. She cocked her head on one side as she surveyed Dorothea and then nodded as if satisfied. “You may run along now, Lucy,” she told the maid; “I’ll finish Miss Dorothea.” “Yes’m,” Lucy replied, but she went reluctantly, with many backward glances. “I couldn’t resist the temptation to look at you in your finery before any one else, my dear,” Miss Imogene began. “I wanted to see how far behind the times our patterns are—and things look so different in the hand.” She, herself, was dressed with care, and, though there were wanting touches here and there to show the very latest whim of fashion, her hoops were as wide as Dorothea’s and she looked as dainty as a picture. She put the finishing touches to Dorothea’s toilet and then sat down with a little gesture of invitation to the girl to occupy a chair near her. “We’ve a few minutes before all is ready downstairs, and I thought you’d like to know something of the people you are to meet,” Miss Imogene suggested. “Indeed I should,” Dorothea agreed, making herself comfortable. “It’s awfully awkward if you don’t know who is related to you and all about them. And I have lived so far from my American relatives, haven’t I?”