"But, Katy, you wouldn't do such a thing? You wouldn't leave—them?"
"Indeed I would," Kate returned exultantly, feeling that she had scored. "I'll go by the same train. I've got some money in my stocking. I couldn't face the music with her in a dead faint, and himself like as not havin' a shock."
Elsie stopped short. "Katy, why will you say such dreadful things?" she cried. "Honestly, it's only a question of a day or two. I've got to go away, and why can't you let me do it quietly now instead of waiting and having it still harder."
"You don't mind the easiest way for you bein' the hardest for them?"
"Yes, I do. But I can't go back. I cannot—act another day."
"Oh, yes you can," replied Kate soothingly. "And, besides, it'll all come right if you just hang on. I knew something was strange—I've suspicioned it ever sence you come. Wasn't it me as went around and took all your baby pictures out o' the old albums and others with big round dimples out o' velvet photograph-frames, and himself lookin' everywhere for 'em and me never lettin' on? I says to myself you wasn't really yourself, but like enough a cousin or foster-sister, and just as good and perhaps more satisfactory. Come, we'll just race around home and go in by the back-door so as to be there for supper as if nothin'd happened."
Just before they reached the kitchen door, Elsie spoke.
"Oh, Katy, couldn't I stay in my room until she—Mrs. Moss comes? My head does ache—terribly."
"Well, child, you go up there now, anyhow, and Katy'll see what her big head can do."
The quick-witted woman got out of her suit and into her slipshod shoes and went straight to Mrs. Middleton.