Elsie Marley, Honey | Page 7

scarcely have believed
their eyes or credited their hearing. But Elsie's father, who had died
while she was an infant, had had a warm heart and a keen sense of
humor, and it might well be that his daughter had inherited something
of this that had lain dormant all the while. For truly, the wholesome,
hardy qualities brought out in others through simple human association
had had little chance to germinate in her hothouse existence in the
Pritchard household.
Despite the rumble of the train, four children in the rear of the car
caught the sound of the singing and came trooping up begging for more.
A pretty nursemaid followed with a fat, smiling infant. Elsie Moss
made her sit down with it (beside Elsie Marley!) and she herself
perched on the arm of the seat and sang song after song until it was
time to go into the dining-car. The children, wild with enthusiasm, were
not in reality more appreciative of the lovely voice than Elsie Marley
herself. The two girls went in to dinner together in happy
companionship.
CHAPTER IV

Elsie Marley lay in her berth that night for some time in a state between
musing and actually dreaming. She was conscious--partly conscious,
that is--of a new sensation of happiness. She did not, however, at all
realize how fortunate she was. She did not know that for the first time
in her life the door of her heart had been opened in response to another.
It was, perhaps, open only a crack. Possibly it had been fast so long that
it would not remain open. None the less, at the moment it stood ajar.
After dinner the girls had talked late--late for sleeping-car hours, that is
to say. Elsie Marley herself had talked; had said more in an hour than
she had ever before said in a day. Questioned in a frank, sympathetic
manner by the other Elsie, she had been led to speak of her
grandmother's household and of her daily life there, going into details
so far as she knew how, as she found the other so generously and
romantically concerned. Then she had gone on to speak of Cousin Julia
Pritchard and the boarding-house, confessing her apprehension and
dread, which seemed somehow to have become more definite in the
interval. She even showed the stranger Cousin Julia's letter.
Having perused it, Elsie Moss acknowledged that it wasn't altogether a
pleasant outlook for such a one as Elsie Marley, honey, though she
herself wouldn't mind it. Indeed, she declared that she should have
liked it immensely. And finally, as she left to go back to her berth, she
exclaimed with fervor that she only wished that Miss Pritchard were
her cousin, and the Reverend John Middleton Elsie Marley's uncle and
guardian.
As those were Elsie Moss's last spoken words that night, so that
thought was uppermost in her mind as she fell asleep shortly after her
cropped head touched the pillow. And next morning when she woke
early with a startlingly delightful idea, it almost caused her to bound
from her upper berth as if it had been a bed in the middle of a stationary
floor. For it came not in embryo, not in the egg, so to speak, but
full-fledged. It seemed as if she couldn't possibly wait until she was
dressed to divulge it to Elsie Marley.
But Elsie Marley was, like her prototype, late in rising, and the other
Elsie's eagerness grew yet keener as she waited. Finally, however, they

were alone together in the former's seat, as the train sped rapidly
eastward.
Elsie Marley's countenance seemed almost to have changed overnight.
There was truly something in it that had not been there before. Of
course it was not animated now; nevertheless, it was not so utterly
wanting in expression as it had been the day before, even in
juxtaposition with the vivid little face beside her.
"Oh, Elsie-Honey, I've got something perfectly gorgeous to tell you,"
cried the dark Elsie. "Listen--you're not very keen about going to your
cousin's, are you?"
Elsie confessed that she liked the idea less than ever.
"And I just hate--the short of it is--I simply cannot go anywhere but to
New York. You'd ever so much prefer Enderby because it's select and
has culture and advantages, and you'd sooner have a dignified
clergyman uncle than a newspaper cousin. As for me, I should adore
Cousin Julia."
"It seems a pity, surely," admitted Elsie quietly.
The other looked at her. "You see what's coming, honey?"
She shook her head, perplexed.
"Oh, Elsie-Honey! It's plain as pudding. Presto! change! That's all.
Aren't we both Elsie, and don't we both want just what's coming to the
other? All we have to do is to swap surnames. See?"
Still Elsie Marley did