d Elsie wistfully. "You know she spoke in
her letter of young life."

"I shall adore her, dear old thing!" cried the warm-hearted girl. "And
Uncle John will adore you. He adored my mother, who was quiet and deep
like you. He was always sending her rare things, and pitying her
because she was poor and longing to send her money, though dad wouldn't
have that."

The appearance of an expressman warned them that they were nearing
Boston.

"You're perfectly sure that you're willing to exchange New York for
Enderby?" demanded Elsie Moss suddenly.

"Oh, yes, indeed, Elsie."

"And you don't yearn for Cousin Julia?"

Elsie Marley half smiled. "Oh, no," she declared.

But the other was determined not to take any undue advantage.

"Now listen," she said; "if after you see Uncle John you don't fancy
him, just say the word or nudge me or wink and I'll swap back without a
word. I'll simply step up and say, 'Oh, Uncle John, you've kissed the
wrong girl!' though, of course, he may be too dignified to kiss at a
train. And then I'll introduce you properly."

They sped on. Soon a trainman entered to say that the next station was
Boston and request them not to leave any articles in the car. They
said good-by to each other before the train stopped, kissing warmly
like real friends. Then Elsie Moss tied a large, dark veil over her
hat and well down over her forehead and eyes. It looked as
inappropriate for the hot day as the scowling expression she assumed to
cloak the dimples was ill suited to her charming little face.

As they alighted, and a handsome, distinguished-looking gentleman in
grey clerical garb advanced to meet them, she fell behind. Raising his
hat, he took the hand of the girl who was not his niece.

"And this is Elsie?" he said in a fine, kindly voice.

She murmured a weak affirmative. He kissed her affectionately, took
her portmanteau from the porter, and turned to the girl who had come
from the car with her.

"And this is your friend, Elsie?" he inquired.

Elsie Moss came forward, scowling so fiercely that the other, despite
her blunted sense of humor, could scarcely keep from laughing out.

"My friend, Miss M-Marley," she stammered.

Mr. Middleton shook hands with his sister's daughter, took her satchel,
and asked how he could serve her. The girl replied in a thin falsetto
voice, which she realized immediately didn't go with the scowl so well
as a gruff tone would have done, that she had on