But that idea was too ludicrous, and suddenly struck by the absurdity, she laughed out. Her laugh was so merry and infectious as to lay his suspicion at once, and he couldn't help joining her. And then, somehow, each understood the misapprehension of the other, and they laughed the harder. Even as they laughed, there was a light step on the veranda outside, and some one cried _Elsie_ in a tone of warm welcome. Mr. Middleton had risen. "Shall I tell her who it is, or just send her in, saying that it's an old friend?" he asked in a low voice. Her heart was beating violently. "Don't tell her who it is," she begged weakly and shrank back as he opened the door. He closed it behind him and she waited breathlessly. She forgot everything except that she was to see Elsie. At the first sound she sprang to her feet, and as the door opened--not with Elsie's characteristic fling--she held out her arms. "Elsie!" she cried, then started violently. A total stranger stood before her, a pretty girl with a sweet face and long light-brown curls hanging from her neck. "And who are you?" she cried wildly. "Am I mad or is this a lunatic asylum?" For a moment the girl stared at her with sweet perplexed face. Was she another patient, then? thought the distressed woman. "I am Mrs. Moss," she said in a sort of desperation. "Pray tell me who you are and where I am?" All the pretty color left the girl's face. She stepped back and leaned against the door. "This is the parsonage," she faltered. "I am Elsie Pritchard Marley. Your Elsie is in New York with my cousin. We exchanged." CHAPTER XXXI On the Saturday afternoon following the arrival of Mrs. Moss at Enderby, Miss Pritchard and Elsie had just seated themselves in the former's cool, pleasant room for the purpose of discussing summer clothes for the latter. A maid came to the door and brought in a card. "Mrs. Richard Moss! I'm sure I don't know any such person; do you, Elsie?" Miss Pritchard exclaimed, frowning as she attempted to recollect whether that could be the married name of any one who had formerly been at Miss Peacock's. As she looked up she saw that Elsie was almost ghastly white. She sprang from her chair and went to her. "Elsie, darling, are you ill?" she cried. Elsie almost gasped. "No, Cousin Julia, only--startled, _scared_," she said in a strange voice that frightened Miss Pritchard still further. But the maid waited. About to ask her to excuse her to Mrs. Moss, she looked again at Elsie. "You don't know her, dear?" she said gently, putting the card before her. "Yes--I do. That's what--fazed me," gasped Elsie. "It's my--stepmother. I'm afraid something awful has happened." Now Miss Pritchard was white, too. "My child, are you out of your head?" she exclaimed. "What are you talking about? You never had a stepmother. You couldn't have." Then she half smiled.