Elsie Marley was not interrupted, as it happened. Some little time passed and still she was alone. The girl could not understand a certain unrest that was upon her. She waited a few moments longer, then she moved close to the window so as to leave more than half the seat vacant. Still nothing happened. At length she turned and looked back. Elsie Moss, who sat between an old lady and a little boy, smiled and nodded. Elsie Marley half smiled. Still the other made no move. Then she looked back, really smiled, and beckoned her to a place beside her. Elsie Moss, more than willing to be summoned, had some difficulty in getting away from her present companions. But the grandmother prevailed upon the little boy to spare her, and she presented herself at Elsie Marley's seat smiling in her irresistible way with the big dimples indented, and looking as if she would like to hug her as she had hugged the little girl outside. And Elsie Marley had a curious intimation that she shouldn't have minded greatly. "What do you think," exclaimed Miss Moss as she seated herself, "you know all my family history and I don't even know your name. I've been guessing. It ought to be either Isabel or Hildegarde. Is it? Oh, I do wish it were, they're both so sort of stately and princess-like that they'd just suit you." "It isn't either," responded the other with a curious sense of disappointment. "My name is Elsie also." "Of all things! But it's rather jolly, after all. And what's the rest?" "Marley, Elsie Pritchard Marley. But at home they called me Elsie Pritchard, because I am--all Pritchard." Unacquainted with the Pritchard distinction, Elsie Moss was not impressed. But she exclaimed gleefully over the real surname. "Elsie Marley!" she cried. "Why, isn't that funny, and oh, isn't it dear! Elsie Marley, honey!" The other girl looked blank. "Of course you know the song, or at least the rhyme?" "Song? Rhyme?" "Why, yes. You must have heard it: 'And Do You Ken Elsie Marley, Honey?'" "Is it really and truly Elsie Marley?" queried the pale Elsie speaking for the first time like a real girl, though she had no girlish vocabulary from which to draw. "Sure," asserted the other, delighted to be able to surprise her seatmate. And she sang a stanza in the sweetest voice Elsie Marley had ever heard, though she had heard good music all her life, and famous singers. "Do you ken Elsie Marley, honey? The wife who sells the barley, honey? She won't get up to serve her swine, And do you ken Elsie Marley, honey?" "Is there--any more?" demanded Elsie Marley almost eagerly.