"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 can do to help your mother."

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"If you could git us more washin's," exclaimed Amarilly eagerly, "it

would help heaps. We could take in lots more than we do now."

"Let me think. You see we keep a laundress; but--does your mother do up

very fine things--like laces--carefully?"

"She does," replied Amarilly glibly. "She kin do 'em orful keerful, and

we dry the colored stuffs in the shade. And our clo'es come out snow-

white allers, and we never tears laces nor git in too much bluin' or

starch the way some folks does."

"Then I'll give you my address and you can come for my fine waists; and

let me see, I am sure I can get St. Mark's laundry work for you, too."

"You're orful good, Miss King. This is where we hev to turn down this

'ere court."

The "court" appeared to Miss King more like an alley. The advent of the

brougham in the little narrow right-of-way filled every window with

hawk-eyed observers. About the Jenkins's doorstep was grouped the entire

household from the Boarder to the baby, and the light, musical voices of

children floating through the soft spring air fell pleasantly upon the

ears of the young settlement worker.

"So this is where you live, Amarilly?" she asked, her eyes sparkling as

she focussed them on the family. "You needn't come for the washing the

first time. I will bring it myself so I can see all your little

brothers. Be sure to come to the Guild next Saturday, and then I'll have

the rug for you to take home. Goodbye, dear."

Knowing that she was observed by myriad eyes, Amarilly stepped loftily

from the brougham and made a sweeping stage courtesy to her departing

benefactress.

"Are you on the stage now, Amarilly?" asked Co eagerly as she came to

meet her sister.




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