“I do hope,” she heard Mrs. May saying, “that we are not going to begin to see spies wherever we look. All this silly talk of Red Strings is the product of some one’s imagination. I don’t believe there is any such society. It’s absurd.” “I shall not cease to wear a red band about my throat, yet,” Miss Imogene remarked lightly. “Of course it’s foolish to think that everybody who wears a red ribbon is a Red String,” Hal laughed; “but all the same there is such an organization.” That seemed to end the matter for the time being. The whole gay party assembled in the great parlors and presently, one after another, near neighbors began to drop in. Among these was a Colonel Ransome of the Confederate Army and he brought news of another prisoner escaped from Andersonville. “They say the fellow is working north through Georgia,” he ended. “They sent me word to be on the lookout for him, so you boys can keep your eyes open.” “I don’t blame any one for escaping from Andersonville!” exclaimed a Miss Perrine, a pretty Creole from Baton Rouge, “We passed the prison in the train. There’s a gibbet at the gate of the stockade and they haven’t even a roof over their poor heads. I say it isn’t right! The creatures are more like animals than men. You could see that they were half starved.” “My dear young lady,” Colonel Ransome demurred politely, “sympathy for our enemies does your heart much credit; but our prisoners are being treated as well as they deserve.” “You wouldn’t like it if our own men were crowded together in the North as these are here,” Miss Perrine maintained stoutly. “Faith, these are Yankees!” Val Tracy said with a laugh. “Can it be that there is any young lady in the South who is sorry for a Yank under any circumstances?” “There are some who are not,” April cut in. “All the same I don’t think it’s fair,” Miss Perrine insisted. “We don’t have to treat our prisoners that way. It was pitiful to see their hungry looks. We threw them some of our lunch, but it fell short and I suppose they will think we did it on purpose to tantalize them. I don’t care what anybody says, they’re human, even if they are hateful Yanks!” “They are as well fed as our own soldiers,” April insisted. “And that isn’t all of it, either,” Colonel Ransome explained. “The North has refused to exchange prisoners, saying that Morgan’s Raiders are criminals. So it’s really their own fault.” “I say,” Hal cut in, “let’s stop talking and sing a bit. I near enough of war all day.” They gathered about the piano at this suggestion and soon were shouting lustily the old songs so dear to all the South in those days. They began with “My Maryland,” then came “The Bonny Blue Flag”; one favorite after another, and Dorothea, seated near the door, listened with great interest, impressed by the fervor of the singing. But it was not till some one called for “Dixie” that she had a real thrill.