He made no reply, and Colette presently broke the silence.

"Seriously, John," she said practically and in a tone far different from

her former one, "the Jenkins family are poor and most deserving. I am

going to give them some work, and if you would give them a trial on the

church linen, it would help them so much. There was a regular army of

little children on the doorstep, and it must be a struggle to feed them

all. I should like to help them--to give them something--but they seem

to be the kind of people that you can help only by giving them work to

perform. I have learned that true independence is found only among the

poor."

John took a little notebook from his pocket.

"What is their address, Colette?"

She took the book from him and wrote down the street and number.

"Colette, you endeavor to conceal a tender heart--"

"And will you give them--Mrs. Jenkins--a trial?"

"Yes; this week."

"That will make Amarilly so happy," she said, brightening. "I am going

there to-morrow to take them some work, and I will tell Mrs. Jenkins to

send Flamingus--his is the only name of the brood that my memory

retains--for the church laundry."

"He may call at the rectory," replied John, "and get the house laundry

as well."

"That will be good news for them. I shall enjoy watching Amarilly's face

when she hears it."

"And now, Colette, will you do something for me?"

"Maybe. What is it?" she asked guardedly.

"Will you abandon the idea of going on the stage, or studying for that

purpose?"

"Perforce. Father won't consent."

A look of relief drove the trouble from the dark eyes fixed on hers.

"I'll be twenty-one in a year, however," she added carelessly.

John was wise enough to perceive the wilfulness that prompted this

reply, and he deftly changed the subject of conversation.

"About this little girl, Amarilly. We must find her something in the way

of employment. The atmosphere of a theatre isn't the proper one for a

child of that age. Do you think so?"

"Theoretically, no; but Amarilly is not impressionable to atmosphere

altogether. She seems a hard-working, staunch little soul, and all that

relieves the sordidness of her life and lightens the dreariness of her

work is the 'theayter,' as she calls it. So don't destroy her illusions,

John. You'll do her more harm than good."




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