do, therefore, she mustn't bungle or err in that respect.

The Pritchard estate was not yet settled. The house had been sold and
such personal effects and heirlooms as were to be kept for Elsie Marley
put in storage for the time in San Francisco. Elsie Moss understood
this, and knew that Miss Pritchard did so; but she felt that the latter
wondered that she had no relics or keepsakes with her. She had had to
confess one day that she had no photographs of her family she would be
willing to show, leaving Miss Pritchard to make such inference as she
would.

That evening at the dinner-table--she felt it would be easier to
approach the matter in semi-public--Elsie asked her if she happened to
have any old Pritchard photographs.

"Yes, dear, I have an old album in the chest by the window that has
pictures of Aunt Ellen, Cousin Ellen, and Cousin Augusta. There are
half a dozen, I think, of Cousin Ellen, and three or four of your
mother, but no baby picture of you, nor any other, if that's what
you're looking for. After my father died we began to lose connection
with one another, and after that visit I made when you were a baby, all
communication ceased. So I got no photographs after that."

"No, I wasn't thinking of my kid pictures, Cousin Julia. I was
just--wondering," the girl returned. "Would it be an awful bother to
get out the album?"

"No bother at all, child. To tell the truth, I love to get it out, for
there are a lot of other pictures besides the Pritchards that I like to
look over. There's a picture of my Cousin Arthur Moore, who fell in
the battle of Lookout Mountain, that I'd like you to see."

When the old-fashioned, velvet-bound, nickel-clasped book was produced,
Elsie almost forgot her immediate purpose in her interest in the
likenesses. But one of Ellen Pritchard at fourteen, Miss Pritchard's
cousin and supposedly _her_ aunt, brought her up sharply. For Elsie
Marley was the very image of it. Rearrange her hair, put her into the
beruffled skirt and polonaise, and she might have sat for it. Or part
this girl's hair and gather it loosely back, dress her in a tailored
suit and correct blouse, and she would be Elsie Marley. What a
frightful thing this family resemblance was! Elsie stifled a sigh.
Her cake was dough, sure enough!

Partly to ease her dismay and postpone considering her problem until
she should be alone, the girl gave herself up to the study of the other
pictures. It wasn't dif