her cousin, Miss Pritchard. Elsie was badly stage-struck and wild
over New York, and the other girl didn't mind a quiet country town, and
they calmly changed places--and names. Elsie Moss came to you--with no
claim in the world upon your hospitality; and your relative, Elsie
Marley, imposed upon the Middletons in the same fashion. And they have
gone on with the imposture for practically a year."

As she continued, one detail after another fitted into the framework
she made, and Miss Pritchard grasped the situation fully. Stunned and
wholly at a loss, she glanced at Elsie. The girl sat like a statue,
white with downcast eyes. Miss Pritchard went to the window and stood
gazing out for some moments.

When she returned to her place, her expression was composed, but her
face looked suddenly strangely worn and older. She looked into Mrs.
Moss's eyes as who should say "How could she!" But she spoke to the
girl.

"Well, Elsie?" she asked quietly.

"That was why I hedged about going to Enderby," said Elsie
incoherently, "I didn't dare let Uncle John see my dimples. They would
give me away, you see, Cousin Julia."

Then she suddenly bethought herself.

"Oh, but you're not my Cousin Julia any more!" she cried, and burst
into a tumult of weeping.

Her stepmother gathered the girl to her, and Elsie sobbed wildly on her
breast. Mrs. Moss, who had been more severe with Elsie Marley at
Enderby than she had ever been with any one before, was now disposed to
be very gentle--perhaps over-lenient--with the real culprit.

"Yes, Elsie, I am your Cousin Julia--to the end of things," Miss
Pritchard assured her. And she spoke almost solemnly. "But tell me,
dear--you didn't know what you were doing? Oh, Elsie, you didn't
realize that it wasn't--that it was--wrong?"

"Not at first--not when I did it," sobbed Elsie. Then she uncovered
her face. "But I knew afterward. It came to me then, and I knew it
was the sort of wrong you think worst of all. And so do I, honestly,
Cousin Julia."

Again Miss Pritchard walked to the window. Elsie's eyes followed her
in agonized appeal.

"Cousin Julia!" she cried desperately. And Miss Pritchard was at her
side in a moment. But though her face was all tenderness and sympathy,
the pain that shone through it would have been severe retribution even
had Elsie been altogether impenitent.

"Oh, Cousin Julia, I was sorry!" the girl cried, "I was terribly sorry.
But it only came on me