Part 13 (1/2)

”There!” he said. ”I got it. You were a good little girl not to interrupt me, Amarilly.”

”It's beautiful!” gasped Amarilly. ”I was afeard you'd git the sky blue instead of purplish and that you'd make the clouds too white.”

”Amarilly, you've the soul of an artist! In you I have found a true critic.”

”Come and see if the rooms is all right. I got 'em real clean. Every nook and corner. And--”

”I know you did, Amarilly, without looking. I can smell the clean from here.”

”If thar's nothin' more you want did, I'll go hum.”

”Here's a dollar for the rooms and two dollars for the surplice.

Amarilly, you were glad to learn table manners from Miss King, weren't you?”

”Yes; I like to larn all I kin.”

”Then, will you let me teach you something?”

”Sure!” she acquiesced quickly.

”There are two things you must do for me. Never say 'et'; say 'ate'

instead. Then you must say 'can'; not 'kin.' It will be hard to remember at first, but every time you forget and make a mistake, remember to-day and our jolly little luncheon, will you?”

”I will, and I _can_, Mr. Derry.”

”You're an apt little pupil, Amarilly, and I am going to teach you two words every time you come.”

”Oh!” exclaimed Amarilly, brightening. ”Will you want me ter come agin?”

”Indeed I shall. I am going away next week to the mountains for a couple of months. When I come back, I am going to have you come every morning at nine o'clock. You can prepare and serve my simple breakfast and clean my rooms every day. Then they won't get so disreputable. I will pay you what they do at the theatre, and it will not be such hard work. Will you enjoy it as well?”

”Oh, better!” exclaimed Amarilly.

And with this naive admission died the last spark of Amarilly's stage-l.u.s.t.

”Then consider yourself engaged. You can call for the surplice to-morrow afternoon at this hour.”

”Thank you, Mr. Derry.”

She hesitated, and then awkwardly extended her hand, which he shook most cordially.

”Thank you for a day's entertainment, Amarilly. I haven't been bored once. You have very nice hands,” looking down at the one he still held.

She reddened and jerked her hand quickly away.

”Now you _are_ kiddin'! They're redder than my hair, and rough and big.”

”I repeat, Amarilly, you have nice hands. It isn't size and color that counts; it's shape, and from an artist's standpoint you have shapely hands. Now will you be good, and shake hands with me in a perfectly ladylike way? Thank you, Amarilly.”