Amarilly of Clothes-line Alley | Page 4

now," replied Amarilly pompously.
"Really! Tell me what you do, Amarilly."
"I scrub at the Barlow Theatre, and I went to the matinee day afore yisterday. I hed a pass give to me."
These statements made such a visible impression on her audience that Amarilly waxed eloquent and proceeded to describe the play, warming to her work as she gained confidence. The gestures of Lord Algernon and the leading lady were reproduced freely, fearlessly, and faithfully.
With a glimmer of mischief dancing in her eyes, the young teacher listened appreciatively but apprehensively as she noted the amazed expression on the faces of the teachers of adjacent classes when Amarilly's treble tones were wafted toward them. Fortunately, the realistic rendering of Lord Algernon's declaration of love was interrupted by the accompaniment to a song, which was followed by the dismissal of the school.
"Kin I take my strips home to sew on?" asked Amarilly.
"Oh, no!" replied Miss King. "That is not permitted."
Seeing the look of disappointment in the child's eyes, she asked in kindly tone:
"Why are you in such a hurry to finish the work, Amarilly?"
"We've took a Boarder," explained Amarilly, "and I want the rug fer his room. It'll take an orful long time to git it done if I only work on it an hour onct a week. He's so good to me, I want to do something to make his room look neat, so he'll feel to hum."
The young teacher reflected a moment.
"I'll tell you what we'll do, Amarilly. I will buy one of the rugs that are to be on sale at the church fair this week. They have some very nice large ones. I will give it to you, and when yours is finished you may give it to me in return."
"Oh, thank you!" cried Amarilly, her countenance brightening, "But won't you need it afore I kin git this one done?"
"No; I am sure I shall not," replied the young lady gravely.
When they left the building the teacher paused as she was about to step into her electric brougham. "Where do you live, Amarilly?"
Amarilly gave her street and number.
"You must live farther away than any of the other children. Get in, dear; I will take you home."
She had opened the door as she spoke, and the little scrubber's eyes were dazzled by the elegance of the appointments--a silver vase filled with violets, a silver card-case, and--but Amarilly resolutely shut her eyes upon this proffered grandeur and turned to the lean but longing little daughter of the stage-hand.
"You see, I come with her," she explained simply and loyally.
"There is room for you both. Myrtie can sit on this little seat."
Overawed by the splendor of her environment, Amarilly held her breath as they glided swiftly through the streets. There was other glory, it seemed, than that of the footlights. When the happy little Myrtle had been left at her humble home the young teacher turned with eager anticipation to Amarilly.
"Tell me more about yourself, Amarilly. First of all, who is the Boarder?"
Amarilly explained their affairs, even to the "double-decker diner," as the Boarder had called the table arrangement.
"And what has he done for you, Amarilly, that you are so anxious he should have a rug?"
"He's larnin' me readin', writin', spellin', and figgers."
"Don't you go to school?"
"No; I hev to bring in wages and help ma with the washin's."
"I'll teach you, Amarilly," she said impulsively. "I'm sure I'm more proficient in those branches than the Boarder."
"He sez," admitted Amarilly, "that it won't take him long to larn me all he knows; but you see--" She spoke with delicate hesitancy and evident embarrassment. "It's orful good in you to want to larn me--but he might feel hurt-like if I was to quit him."
"You are right, Amarilly. You are a loyal little girl. But I tell you what we will do about it. When you have learned all that the Boarder feels he can teach you, you shall go to night-school. There is one in connection with St. Mark's. I will see that you enter there."
"I didn't know thar was one fer girls," said Amarilly. "I'm glad thar's a way fer me to git eddicated, fer I must hev larnin' afore I kin go on the stage. Mr. Vedder, the ticket-seller to Barlow's, told me so."
"Amarilly,"--and an earnest note crept into the gay, young voice--"you may find things that you will like to do more than to go on the stage."
"No!" asserted the youthful aspirant, "Thar ain't nuthin' else I'd like so well."
"Amarilly, I am going to tell you something. Once, not long ago, I had the stage fever, but I think I know now there is something--something I should like better."
"What?" queried Amarilly skeptically.
"I can't tell you now, but you have a long time yet in which to decide your future. Tell me what I