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Amarilly of Clothes-line Alley

Page 36

The surplice, carefully laundered after the funeral, was ready for new

fields of labor. The tenor, first patron of Amarilly's costuming

establishment, was wont to loiter in the studio of an artist he knew and

relate his about-town adventures. This artist was interested in the

annals of the little scrub-girl and her means of livelihood.

"I have in mind," he said musingly, "a picture of a musician, the light

to be streaming through a stained window on his uplifted head as he sits

at an organ."

"The Lost Chord?" inquired the tenor.

"Nothing quite so bromidic as that," laughed the artist. "I have my

model engaged, and I had intended to have you borrow a surplice for me,

but you may ask your little customer to rent me her gown for a couple of

days."

On receipt of this request delivered through the medium of the ticket-

seller, Amarilly promptly appeared at the studio. She was gravely and

courteously received by the artist, Derry Phillips, an easy-mannered

youth, slim and supple, with dark, laughing eyes. When they had

transacted the business pertaining to the rental of the surplice,

Amarilly arose from her chair with apparent reluctance. This was a new

atmosphere, and she was fascinated by the pictures and the general air

of artistic disarrangement which she felt but could not account for.

"'Tain't exactly the kind of place to tidy," she reflected, "but it

needs cleaning turrible."

"Do you like pictures?" asked the young artist, following her gaze.

"Stay a while and look at them, if you wish."

Amarilly readily availed herself of this permission, and rummaged about

the rooms while Derry pursued his work. Upon the completion of her tour

of inspection, he noticed a decided look of disapproval upon her face.

"What is the matter, Miss Jenkins? Aren't the pictures true to life?" he

inquired with feigned anxiety.

"The picters is all right," replied Amarilly, "but--"

"But what?" he urged expectantly.

"Your rooms need reddin' up. Thar's an orful lot of dust. Yer things

will spile."

"Oh, dust, you know, to the artistic temperament, is merely a little

misplaced matter."

"'Tain't only misplaced. It's stuck tight," contended Amarilly.

"Dear me! And to think that I was contemplating a studio tea to some

people day after to-morrow, I suppose it really should be 'red up'

again. Honestly though, I engage a woman who come every week and clean

the rooms."

"She's imposed on you," said Amarilly indignantly. "She's swept the dirt

up agin the mopboards and left it thar, and she hez only jest skimmed

over things with a dust-cloth. It ain't done thorough."

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