For some time Miss Pritchard and Mrs. Moss discussed, not as they had
purposed, the way out of it, but the affair itself: the change of names
and destinations and the year of masquerading. They marvelled equally at
the audacity and the success of the scheme, and the various circumstances
that had favored it. Miss Pritchard reviewed the year aloud in the light
of the discovery, with eager comment from the other.
"How Elsie could have accepted so much from you, knowing all the while
she was deceiving you, I cannot understand!" cried Mrs. Moss, shaking her
head sadly.
"Accepted! Oh, Mrs. Moss, if you could only know half the girl gave, you
wouldn't speak of accepting!" protested Miss Pritchard. "She has made
this year the happiest of my life, that captivating, lovely child has.
As for deceiving--she didn't mean any such thing, and it wasn't real
deceit in her case. She said just now she always felt as if I were
really her cousin. When she swapped, she did it in such a whole-hearted
way that she was herself almost as deluded as I. And later, when she
began to realize, she suffered--looking back, I begin to understand that
she has suffered torture."
Mrs. Moss suddenly bethought herself.
"The question is, what is to be done?" she repeated. "You see, I have
left that girl in Enderby in a most uncomfortable position. The
Middletons as yet know nothing. I shall have to break it to them, but
before I do so, I want to come to some sort of an understanding with you."
"I confess, I don't see any way out of it at this moment," returned Miss
Pritchard. "Dear me, I can't yet really realize we're in it."
"The simple thing would seem to be to just----"
"Swap back? Oh, it wouldn't be possible after all this time, my dear
Mrs. Moss!" cried Miss Pritchard, really aghast.
"We shall have to see how the Middletons feel, of course," admitted Mrs.
Moss. "Oh, Miss Pritchard, couldn't you go back with me to-night and
then all of us talk it over together? I don't believe we'll ever come to
any understanding unless you do. My flying back and forth between you
like a shuttlecock isn't going to amount to anything."
"Yes, I will go on to Enderby--there's no other way," agreed Miss
Pritchard, "but I can't go tonight, because Elsie has an engagement.
It's her last appearance at that wretched place, I'm thankful to say.
She and I will follow you to-morrow. Meantime, you can give them the
plain facts to digest."
She smiled half grimly. "As a matter of fact, I have a suite of rooms
engaged at the inn at Enderby for the last two weeks in June and for July
and August, though I never dreamed of any such complication, as you know.
Like as not we all--you and Elsie and I--can occupy them now--I can
telegraph presently. Dear me, dear me! what a pair of thoughtless scamps
these children were. And yet--what hasn't it meant to me to know Elsie?
Oh, Mrs. Moss, I can't face giving her up. I simply cannot face it."
"Of course, Mr. Middleton is her guardian," remarked Mrs. Moss, who
sympathized with Miss Pritchard, but felt she might remember that she had
had to part with Elsie a year ago, after having had her from a child.
"He seems like one who would do the right thing," she added, "but of
course he was devoted to Elsie's mother."
"No doubt he'll be glad to hand over little Pritchard to me?"
"Well, he seemed attached to her. But of course being a clergyman he may
judge her very severely."
"I wish we could all go to Enderby this very moment," cried Miss
Pritchard impatiently. "If it weren't for that old movie-show!"
Then the other forgot Enderby. "Oh, Miss Pritchard, tell me, is Elsie
very deeply concerned?" she asked anxiously.
Miss Pritchard related the matter in detail. Mrs. Moss was distressed
beyond words, though she was cheered when the other repeated Madame
Valentini's dictum in regard to the girl's voice, and the yet more
authoritative word of Mr. Francis. And then and there the two women who
cared deeply for one little girl decided that that night should close her
theatrical career, not only for the season but forever. And they added
that whatever be the outcome of the conference at Enderby, Elsie must
begin in the late summer or early autumn to study with the teacher in
Boston recommended by Mr. Francis.
"The child has actually grown rich overnight," observed Miss Pritchard.
"She has saved all she has earned and if need be could pay for her own
lessons for a time at least. But I should like nothing better than to
retire and take her to live in some quiet place near Boston, and then go
abroad with her when the time comes. I've got enough to do that and yet
do something for that girl at Enderby."
She paused in her pacing, sat down suddenly and frowned deeply.
"There's no use," she groaned. "That Mr. Middleton will take her away
from me, mark my word. What sort of a man is he, anyhow?"
Mrs. Moss didn't confess that she had taken him for a lunatic; but her
description was colorless.
"Of course, I should be only too glad to take Elsie back with me," she
added wistfully, "though I couldn't give her advantages."
Miss Pritchard gave her a look of sympathy, though she couldn't conceive
of her wanting Elsie as she herself did.
"Neither you nor I will have any chance," she returned gloomily. "He'll
snap her up--that minister. And I shall be desolate in my old age--for I
shall grow old in a night if I lose Elsie."
"But there's the other Elsie," rejoined Mrs. Moss plaintively. "There
seems to be one apiece for every one except me."
"Oh, _Elsie Pritchard_! Good heavens!" Miss Pritchard began her pacing
again. "I shall have her on my hands. I never thought of that!"
"I suppose you'd hardly expect to have them both," remarked the other
mildly.
"I certainly won't have Elsie Pritchard by herself!" Miss Pritchard
retorted. Then she laughed at herself, though ruefully.
"Ah, that accounts for the five hundred dollars!" she exclaimed suddenly.
"I don't understand what you mean," murmured Mrs. Moss plaintively. Now
even Miss Pritchard had begun to talk like Alice in Wonderland.
Miss Pritchard paused in her walk and explained rapidly and in great
detail, leaving Mrs. Moss as much in the dark as before. Again she went
the length of the room, pausing before Mrs. Moss to demand: "What sort of
a girl is this Elsie Pritchard?"
"To tell the truth, I was so taken aback, I scarcely noticed. She's a
pretty girl and ladylike."
Miss Pritchard groaned.
"Well, I think she looks as if she had character," Mrs. Moss added.
"Any ginger?"
"Well, perhaps not," the other admitted. "But you should have heard Mr.
Middleton talk about her--er--work in the parish."
"Good heavens! Visiting the sick and distributing tracts?"
"Not exactly," Mrs. Moss smiled. "He spoke about the library and--well,
I'm afraid I didn't take in the rest."
"Never mind, I can guess. And I see my finish when she gets hold of me.
She'll endeavor to reform me. A year ago, now, I was prepared for a
superior person. But after Elsie----"
"What mischief they made! And yet, Miss Pritchard, it was all done
thoughtlessly."
"I know. And poor Elsie--I'm afraid we came down pretty hard on her. I
think I'll just go and see how she is."
Mrs. Moss followed. Miss Pritchard tapped lightly at Elsie's door.
There was no response and she opened it softly. Then she beckoned the
other with a look on her plain face that made it very sweet.
Together they stood over the little figure on the big bed. Elsie had
cried herself to sleep. She looked young and sweet and innocent, her
brown head with its short locks against the pillow, her lips parted, her
hand under one cheek, and the shadow of a dimple visible.
They turned away, the eyes of both being filled with tears. And when
they were back in Miss Pritchard's sitting-room they seemed somehow
nearer one another, almost like old friends.
"She's too sweet and good for the stage," cried Mrs. Moss. "Do you
suppose we can get her away? Do you think she'll be willing to give up
and cultivate her voice instead?"
"_Willing_? Not Elsie! The child's more crazy about the stage than
ever. And as for easily persuading her to settle down to daily drudgery
with no excitement in view for years--" She shrugged her shoulders.
"She doesn't look now as if she had a will of her own, does she, with her
hand under her cheek and her darling baby lips parted?" cried her
step-mother.
Miss Pritchard's eyes filled a second time. Then suddenly an idea
flashed into her mind.
"Oh, Mrs. Moss, you'll be awfully shocked, but do you know what your
words have put into my head? I feel like a wicked conspirator collecting
his pals, but--listen--you and I must attack Elsie at once and get her to
forswear the stage and take up music."
Mrs. Moss couldn't see any difference in this proposition from anything
previously proposed.
"What I mean is, we must do it this very day," the other went on. "We've
got to strike while the iron is hot. The child is in a chastened state;
she's sorry and ashamed and unusually meek. We've got to be wolves and
prey upon the poor lamb in her moment of defenselessness. She'll agree
to anything to-day. Oh, Mrs. Moss, it sounds cruel and hateful, but it's
really for her good. If you'll stand by me, I'll attempt it."