Amarilly of Clothes-line Alley

He proceeded to explain elaborately what the words meant, and then asked

her if she had remembered her previous lesson.

"Yes; ain't you--goin'--"

"Stop right there. Your next word to be eliminated is 'ain't.' You must

say 'aren't' or 'isn't.' And you must remember to put 'g' on the end of

every word ending in 'ing.' Don't let me hear you say 'goin', again,

I'll teach you one new word every day now. You see the measure of a maid

is her pure English."

Amarilly looked distressed.

"What's the matter, Amarilly? Don't you want to learn to speak

properly?"

"Yes, I do, Mr. Derry; but Miss King--she don't want me to speak

diff'rent. She likes to hear me talk ignorant, and she said she was

afeard you'd make me brom--"

"Brom?" he repeated.

"There was some more to it, but I fergit."

"Bromidic," he said triumphantly, after an instant's pondering. "You can

never under any circumstances be that, and I shall develop your

imagination and artistic temperament at the same time. Miss King is

selfish to wish to keep you from cultivating yourself for the purpose of

furnishing her entertainment. By the way, I am to meet her to-night at a

dinner, and I think we shall have a mutual subject for conversation. I

must get to work, now. Clear away the dishes. And finish the rest of

this toast and coffee. It would be wicked to waste it."

Amarilly substituted a work apron for the little white covering, and was

soon engaged in "redding."

At eleven o'clock the place was in perfect order, and she went into the

studio where Deny was at work.

"Shall I go get the things fer lunch?"

"Luncheon, if you please, Amarilly. I like that word better. It seems to

mean daintier things. Here's a five-dollar bill. Get what you consider

proper for a simple little home luncheon, you know. Nothing elaborate."

Amarilly, feeling but not betraying her utter inability to construct the

menu for a "simple little home luncheon," walked despondently down the

street.

"The Boarder," she reflected, "takes bread and meat and hard biled eggs

when they ain't--aren't too high, and pie when we hev it."

Some vague instinct of the fitness of things warned her that this would

not be a suitable repast for Derry. Then a light shone through her

darkness.

"I'll telephone Miss Vail," she decided.

So she called up her teacher at the Guild, and explained the situation.

She received full instructions, made her purchases, and went back to the

studio.