From that moment, all idea of sacrifice vanished forever. Miss
Pritchard felt suddenly, amazingly, and incomparably blessed. Her
realization that the girl's charming face and figure were matched by a
most lovable personality came so quickly as to seem instantaneous. In
very truth, Elsie's bubbling gayety and sweetness of disposition were
as natural and inseparable as her very dimples.
At once, Miss Pritchard's life took on new color, new meaning. The
change for her was far greater than if she had carried out her former
intention and gone from work in the city to leisure in the country.
She was in a new, strange, wonderful country where life was
interesting, even thrilling, beyond anything she had ever known. She
had not dreamed that youth could be at once so gay and blithe and yet
so simple and generous, so spontaneous, so affectionately considerate
of the older and the less richly endowed.
For her part, the eager, warm-hearted girl adored Miss Pritchard almost
at sight. The strength and sincerity of the woman, her utter
unselfishness, her wisdom, her humor, and her keen intelligence
combined to make her the most impressive personality the sensitive
young girl had ever encountered. Quite untroubled by the ethical
aspect of the situation, she gave herself up to it wholly, only
troubled lest she had gotten the better part of the exchange she had
made with the real Elsie Marley; lest she be cheating the other out of
companionship with this wonderful Cousin Julia.
No difficulty offered itself. Keen as she was, Miss Pritchard was
without shadow of suspicion. Stare as she would, she couldn't discover
any slightest resemblance to the Pritchards in the girl, yet she drew
only the one conclusion.
"Elsie, you must be altogether a Marley," she said to her as they sat
happily together on the third evening after the girl's arrival. And
her voice indicated that she was quite satisfied to have it so.
"I'm certainly no Pritchard," returned Elsie coolly, and not without
enjoyment, "begging your pardon, Cousin Julia."
"Well, of course, I ought to regret it, you being the last of the
family; but I'm afraid I don't," returned Miss Pritchard. "You see I
rather dreaded your coming as that of a double-dyed Pritchard. The
Pritchards of my father's generation were pretty stiff, I confess,
heavy and solemn and rather pompous. My mother who was a Moore, as no
doubt you have heard, had a strong sense of humor, and didn't bring me
up in very great awe of the family. She was thankful I didn't take
after them, and so have I always been. I often think, what a
misfortune had I had to have a Pritchard as a bedfellow and roommate
all these years, as I must have had if I had taken after my father--who
was, I believe, however, the mildest of the Pritchards, and very much
altered by my mother's influence. And girls are usually like papa--as
you are--and boys like mamma, they say. Surely, no girl could be less
like her mother than you, dear."
Elsie sobered. One of the facts she most cherished was the knowledge
that she resembled her adored mother in nature as well as in manner and
personal appearance. It would be hard, nay, impossible, to give over
that solace. But she told herself she must think _Augusta Pritchard_
(what a name!) whenever Cousin Julia said _mother_ to her.
"Of course, you don't remember your father, Elsie, but do you remember
any other of the Marleys or know anything of them?"
"Just one member of the family," said Elsie, getting down from the
window-seat. "I've heard about her ever since I can remember." And
bowing low, she began to sing:
"Do you ken Elsie Marley, honey?
The wife who sells the barley, honey?
She won't get up to serve her swine,
And do you ken Elsie Marley, honey?
Elsie Marley has grown so fine
She won't get up to serve the swine,
But lies in bed till eight or nine,
And surely she does take her time.
Do you ken Elsie Marley, honey?
The wife who sells the barley, honey?
She won't get up to serve her swine,
And do you ken Elsie Marley, honey?"
The wonder and admiration in Miss Pritchard's eyes couldn't be hidden.
Elsie threw herself down on the settee by her side.
"That's the only Marley I've ever known, Cousin Julia, but she's rather
a dear old body," she said and squeezed Miss Pritchard's arm
affectionately.