"This is the parsonage," she faltered. "I am Elsie Pritchard Marley. Your Elsie is in New York with my cousin. We exchanged."
CHAPTER XXXI
On the Saturday afternoon following the arrival of Mrs. Moss at Enderby, Miss Pritchard and Elsie had just seated themselves in the former's cool, pleasant room for the purpose of discussing summer clothes for the latter. A maid came to the door and brought in a card.
"Mrs. Richard Moss! I'm sure I don't know any such person; do you, Elsie?" Miss Pritchard exclaimed, frowning as she attempted to recollect whether that could be the married name of any one who had formerly been at Miss Peacock's. As she looked up she saw that Elsie was almost ghastly white.
She sprang from her chair and went to her.
"Elsie, darling, are you ill?" she cried.
Elsie almost gasped.
"No, Cousin Julia, only—startled, scared," she said in a strange voice that frightened Miss Pritchard still further.
But the maid waited. About to ask her to excuse her to Mrs. Moss, she looked again at Elsie.