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AMARILLY OF CLOTHES-LINE ALLEY
BY BELLE K. MANIATES
AUTHOR OF DAVID DUNNE.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. HENRY
1915
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
He was gazing into her intent eyes with a look of adoration
"You may all," she directed, "look at Amarilly's work"
To-night he found himself less able than usual to cope with her caprices
"Be nice to Mr. St. John!" whispered the little peacemaker
[Illustration: He was gazing into her intent eyes with a look ofadoration]
AMARILLY OF CLOTHES-LINE ALLEY
CHAPTER I
The tiny, trivial touch of Destiny that caused the turn in Amarilly'sfate-tide came one morning when, in her capacity as assistant to thescrub ladies at the Barlow Stock Theatre, she viewed for the first timethe dress rehearsal of A Terrible Trial. Heretofore the patient littleplodder had found in her occupation only the sordid satisfaction ofdrawing her wages, but now the resplendent costumes, the tragedy in thegestures of the villain, the languid grace of Lord Algernon, and thehaughty treble of the leading lady struck the spark that fired ambitionin her sluggish breast.
"Oh!" she gasped in wistful-voiced soliloquy, as she leaned against hermop-stick and gazed aspiringly at the stage, "I wonder if I couldn'trise!"
"Sure thing, you kin!" derisively assured Pete Noyes, vender of gum atmatinées. "I'll speak to de maniger. Mebby he'll let youse scrub degalleries."
Amarilly, case-hardened against raillery by reason of the possession ofa multitude of young brothers, paid no heed to the bantering scoffer,but resumed her work in dogged dejection.
"Say, Mr. Vedder, Amarilly's stage-struck!" called Pete to the ticket-seller, who chanced to be passing.
The gray eyes of the young man thus addressed softened as he looked atthe small, eager face of the youngest scrubber.
"Stop at the office on your way out, Amarilly," he said kindly, "and
I'll give you a pass to the matinée this afternoon."
Amarilly's young heart fluttered wildly and sent a wave of pink into herpale cheeks as she voiced her gratitude.
She was the first to enter when the doors opened that afternoon, and shekept close to the heels of the usher.
"He ain't agoin' to give me the slip," she thought, keeping wary watchof his lithe form as he slid down the aisle.
In the blaze of light and blare of instruments she scarcely recognizedher workaday environment.
"House sold out!" she muttered with professional pride and enthusiasm asthe signal for the raising of the curtain was given. "Mebby I'd ortergive up my seat so as they could sell it."
There was a moment's conflict between the little scrubber's conscienceand her newly awakened desires.
"I ain't agoin' to, though," she decided. And having so determined, shegave her conscience a shove to the remotest background, yielding herselfto the full enjoyment of the play.
The rehearsal had been inspiring and awakening, but this, "the realthing," as Amarilly appraised it, bore her into a land of enchantment.She was blind and deaf to e