arvis had from time to time recognized her namesake by a birthday gift
and had often intimated that she should like to see the little girl.
Miss Gordon had dreams of her adopting Elizabeth, and making the whole
family rich. And now she was to see the child for the first time, and
under favorable auspices. Elizabeth certainly showed talent in her
acting. The others were like wooden images in comparison to her.

As the curtains were drawn back for the dialogue in which she figured,
Miss Gordon drew a great breath. If Mrs. Jarvis didn't feel that she
must give that child an education after seeing how she could perform,
then all the stories of that lady's generosity, which she had heard,
must be untrue.

But, alas, for any hopes centered upon Elizabeth! Miss Gordon told
herself bitterly, when the dialogue was over, that she might have known
better. The vivacious actress, who had thrown herself into her part at
home, making it seem real, came stumbling out upon the little stage,
hampered by Annie's long skirts, and mumbled over her lines in a tone
inaudible beyond the front row of seats. Poor Elizabeth, the honor of
performing before Mrs. Jarvis had been too much for her. She did her
part as badly as it was possible to do it, growing more scared and
white each moment, and finally forgetting it altogether. Miss Gordon
hung her proud head, and Mrs. Oliver exclaimed quite audibly, "Dear me,
how did that poor child ever come to be chosen to take part?"

Elizabeth had not awakened from her stage-struck condition when the
concert was over, and her aunt, with set face, came to straighten her
pinafore, smooth her hair, and get her ready for presentation to the
ladies from town.

Many, many times had Elizabeth pictured this meeting, each time
planning with greater elaboration the part she should act. But when at
last she stood before the lady in the sealskin coat, realizing only
what a miserable failure she had been, she could think of not one of
the clever speeches she had prepared, but hung her head in a most
ungenteel manner and said nothing.

Her aunt's voice sounded like a forlorn hope as she presented her.

"This is your namesake, Mrs. Jarvis," she said.

Mrs. Jarvis was a tall, stately lady, with a sallow, discontented face.
Her melancholy, dark eyes had a kindly light in them, however, and
occasionally her face was lit up with a pleasant smile. She was richly
but quietly dressed, and in every way perfectly m