“No; I’m not flighty,” persisted Azalea, who was entirely composed now, and who spoke firmly, though she was evidently controlling herself with an effort.

“And I’m going to confess now,” she went on.  “Now and here.  Miss Grayson is so kind and dear I don’t mind her knowing, and the rest of you must know.  I must tell you,—­I can’t live if I don’t.”

“All right, Zaly, dear, tell us,” and Patty sat beside her, and put a caressing hand on her arm.

“I am Alice Adams,” Azalea said, “and I am not Azalea Thorpe at all,—­and I never was.”

“Oh!” said Farnsworth, beginning to see light.

“I am a wicked girl,” the pathetic little voice went on.  “I lived in Homer’s Corners,—­and I lived with the woman who keeps the post-office there.  I’ve been an orphan since I was four, and this woman brought me up,—­though it scarcely could be called that, for she only looked on me as her assistant in the office and in her house.

“Well, one day a letter came for Azalea Thorpe.  Now, the Thorpes moved away from Horner’s Corners two years ago, and we never knew their new address.  The few letters that came for them were sent to the Dead Letter Office.  This one would have been, but for the fact that it was unsealed.

“It had been sealed, but the envelope was all unstuck, and—­I read the letter.  I own up to it,—­I know it was wrong,—­but I didn’t know then how wrong.  You see, I wasn’t taught much about honour and right.  It is only since I have been with good people that I realise what an awful thing I did.  When I read it, I couldn’t help thinking what a pity for that wonderful invitation to her to make a visit in the East, to be wasted!  And the more I thought, the more I was possessed of an idea that I might personate Azalea Thorpe and have the visit myself.  Oh, if you knew how I hated the place where I lived,—­how I hated the home I had,—­how I wanted to get out into the great world, and have my chance!  And, yes, I wanted to be a moving-picture actress.  I was sure I could do better than the pictures I saw in that little town, and—­well, the more I thought about it,—­the more it seemed an easy and plausible thing to do.

“I did it.  I answered Patty’s letter as if I were really Azalea Thorpe,—­you see, I had known her all my life, until she moved away, and then I packed up my things and came East, resolved to pretend I was Azalea and see what happened.  It didn’t seem so dreadful—­I thought at first, it was just a big lark,—­but now,—­oh, now I know how right and honourable people look on a thing like that!”

She cast a hopeless glance at Van Reypen, and though he smiled at her and started toward her she shook her head and waved him back.

“On the trip East, I met the Bixbys, and as we at once arranged for my entrance into their studios, I was more than ever eager to put the matter through.