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."

CHAPTER XXXIII

Elsie Marley had let Mrs. Moss out by the side-door, and half an hour
later she passed out that way herself. She had promised not to say
anything until she retur