Elsie Marley, Honey | Page 5

she added.
Something vaguely uncomfortable just stirred the surface of Elsie
Marley's consciousness, though it wasn't sufficiently acute to be called
a pang. The earthquake had happened seven or eight years ago--and
this girl's grief seemed fresh to-day. Her own mother had been dead
less than three years.
She did not acknowledge that her mother was only a memory. She
hardly realized it, indeed. Only, conscious of that vague, strange
discomfort, she had an impulse to get away from it. She put a languid
question.
"What have you done since?"
"I've learned what a difference mothers make," returned the girl soberly.
Then she darted suddenly outside the range of the umbrella.
"What's that? A gopher?" she cried. "Oh, my goodness, it's only one of
those ridiculous Dutch dogs.
"It might have been, you know," she said as she returned to the shade.
Then she resumed the subject she had dropped. Elsie Marley said to
herself that she needn't listen, but as a matter of fact she heard every
word.

"I was so small I couldn't do much, and we had an awful time for a year.
Dad was always more or less hard up, but he was worse after the
earthquake, and if we had a servant she wasted things so that he was
wild. He married again--a schoolteacher, and it wasn't a year, quite,
after--the earthquake. Most people didn't blame him, but Uncle John
where I'm going did, and wanted me to come right on East and live
with him, but dad wouldn't hear of it. And, anyhow, she was the nicest
thing. I loved her dearly at the end of a week. She wanted to keep me
with her after dad died, but my uncle insisted upon my coming to him,
so here I am."
She looked into the other girl's eyes half appealingly, though her big
dimples were dimly visible.
"She wouldn't stand for my being an actress, either, so there you are.
And I liked her so much I couldn't half urge her. And that's the worst of
it; if I stay with my uncle the least little while I shall get to liking him
so much I shan't be able to run away. It's perfectly terrible to get so
fond of people when you want a career. I suppose the thing to do would
really be to disappear right now. Oh, not this moment, but simply never
to go to Enderby. Suppose I should go right on to New York with
you?"
Elsie Marley gazed at her without a word and almost without
expression. But within, she was secretly roused. She marvelled at the
stranger's audacity. She was surprised to feel that she was not bored.
She decided that she would not return to the car until they should be
summoned.
As she was fumbling in her mind for the response the Moss girl
evidently awaited, one of the children whose acquaintance the latter
had made came running up to her and shyly took her hand and kissed it.
Again putting the umbrella into the other girl's hands, Elsie Moss
impulsively caught the little thing into her arms and fondled her. Then
dropping her gently, she took both the little hands in hers and danced
away with her.
They made a charming picture against the long, yellow prairie-grass.

The little girl moved with the grace of a child, but Elsie Moss danced
like a fairy. Her cheeks glowed, her dark eyes shone, her dimples
twinkled, her feet scarcely seemed to touch the ground. Her red hat was
like a poppy-cup, and the dark hair tumbling about her little face,
elf-locks. Elsie Marley gazed spellbound.
But only for a moment; on a sudden she turned and made her way back
to the car, which was almost empty. She returned not because she
wanted to, not even because she was indifferent as to what she did. She
went because she didn't want to. Unconsciously she was struggling
against yielding to the charm of the vivid young creature who
threatened to take her by storm. In all her life she had never been
deeply or warmly affected by another personality. Perhaps now she
realized this dimly, and some instinct warned her subtly to avoid any
departure from old habitude, even when avoidance meant the first real
struggle she had ever made against definite inclination.
It seemed long before the other occupants of the car began to stroll in.
Then the engine whistled sharp warning, the laggards trooped back, and
the train started briskly. Elsie Moss entered by the rear door, as Elsie
Marley knew, though she did not turn around. She said to herself that
no doubt she would be upon her directly, that she would have her
company for the rest of the day and the remainder of the