"But there's the other Elsie," rejoined Mrs. Moss plaintively. "There seems to be one apiece for every one except me." "Oh, _Elsie Pritchard_! Good heavens!" Miss Pritchard began her pacing again. "I shall have her on my hands. I never thought of that!" "I suppose you'd hardly expect to have them both," remarked the other mildly. "I certainly won't have Elsie Pritchard by herself!" Miss Pritchard retorted. Then she laughed at herself, though ruefully. "Ah, that accounts for the five hundred dollars!" she exclaimed suddenly. "I don't understand what you mean," murmured Mrs. Moss plaintively. Now even Miss Pritchard had begun to talk like Alice in Wonderland. Miss Pritchard paused in her walk and explained rapidly and in great detail, leaving Mrs. Moss as much in the dark as before. Again she went the length of the room, pausing before Mrs. Moss to demand: "What sort of a girl is this Elsie Pritchard?" "To tell the truth, I was so taken aback, I scarcely noticed. She's a pretty girl and ladylike." Miss Pritchard groaned. "Well, I think she looks as if she had character," Mrs. Moss added. "Any ginger?" "Well, perhaps not," the other admitted. "But you should have heard Mr. Middleton talk about her--er--work in the parish." "Good heavens! Visiting the sick and distributing tracts?" "Not exactly," Mrs. Moss smiled. "He spoke about the library and--well, I'm afraid I didn't take in the rest." "Never mind, I can guess. And I see my finish when she gets hold of me. She'll endeavor to reform me. A year ago, now, I was prepared for a superior person. But after Elsie----" "What mischief they made! And yet, Miss Pritchard, it was all done thoughtlessly." "I know. And poor Elsie--I'm afraid we came down pretty hard on her. I think I'll just go and see how she is." Mrs. Moss followed. Miss Pritchard tapped lightly at Elsie's door. There was no response and she opened it softly. Then she beckoned the other with a look on her plain face that made it very sweet. Together they stood over the little figure on the big bed. Elsie had cried herself to sleep. She looked young and sweet and innocent, her brown head with its short locks against the pillow, her lips parted, her hand under one cheek, and the shadow of a dimple visible. They turned away, the eyes of both being filled with tears. And when they were back in Miss Pritchard's sitting-room they seemed somehow nearer one another, almost like old friends. "She's too sweet and good for the stage," cried Mrs. Moss. "Do you suppose we can get her away? Do you think she'll be willing to give up and cultivate her voice instead?" "_Willing_? Not Elsie! The child's more crazy about the stage than ever. And as for easily persuading her to settle down to daily drudgery with no excitement in view for years--" She shrugged her shoulders.