Amarilly of Clothes-line Alley
Page 37"And are you quite proficient as a _blanchisseuse?"_ Amarilly looked at him unperturbed.
"I kin scrub," she remarked calmly.
"I stand rebuked. Scrubbing is what they need. If you will come
to-morrow morning and put these rooms in order, I will give you a dollar
and your midday meal."
Amarilly, well satisfied with her new opening, closed the bargain
instantly.
The next morning at seven o'clock she rang the studio bell. The artist,
attired in a bathrobe and rubbing his eyes sleepily, opened the door.
"This was the day I was to clean," reminded Amarilly reprovingly.
"To be sure. But why so early? I thought you were a telegram."
"I still claim it's early. I have only been in bed four hours."
"Well, you kin go back to bed. I'll work orful quiet."
"And I can trust you not to touch any of the pictures or move anything?"
"I'll be keerful," Amarilly assured him. "Jest show me whar to het up
the water. I brung the soap and a brush."
The artist lighted a gas stove, and, after carefully donning a long-
sleeved apron, Amarilly put the water on and began operations. Her eyes
shone with anticipation as she looked about her.
"I'm glad it's so dirty," she remarked. "It's more interestin' to clean
a dirty place. Then what you do shows up, and you feel you earnt your
With a laugh the artist returned to his bedroom, whence he emerged three
hours later.
"This room is all cleaned," announced Amarilly. "It took me so long
'cause it's so orful big and then 'twas so turrible dirty."
"You must have worked like a little Trojan. Now stop a bit while I
prepare my breakfast."
"Kin you cook?" asked Amarilly in astonishment.
"I can make coffee and poach eggs. Come into my butler's pantry and
watch me."
Amarilly followed him into a small apartment and was initiated into the
He tried in vain to induce her to share his meal with him, but she
protested.
"I hed my breakfast at five-thirty. I don't eat agin till noon."
"Oh, Miss Jenkins! You have no artistic temperament or you would not
cling to ironclad rules."
"My name's Amarilly," she answered shortly. "I ain't old enough to be
'missed' yet."
"I beg your pardon, Amarilly. You seem any age," he replied, sitting
down to his breakfast, "You are not too old, then, for me to ask what
your age is--in years?"