Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Tony Browne and PG
Distributed Proofreaders
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 of
adoration]
AMARILLY OF CLOTHES-LINE ALLEY
CHAPTER I
The tiny, trivial touch of Destiny that caused the turn in Amarilly's
fate-tide came one morning when, in her capacity as assistant to the
scrub ladies at the Barlow Stock Theatre, she viewed for the first time
the dress rehearsal of _A Terrible Trial_. Heretofore the patient little
plodder had found in her occupation only the sordid satisfaction of
drawing her wages, but now the resplendent costumes, the tragedy in the
gestures of the villain, the languid grace of Lord Algernon, and the
haughty treble of the leading lady struck the spark that fired ambition
in her sluggish breast.
"Oh!" she gasped in wistful-voiced soliloquy, as she leaned against her
mop-stick and gazed aspiringly at the stage, "I wonder if I couldn't
rise!"
"Sure thing, you kin!" derisively assured Pete Noyes, vender of gum at
matinées. "I'll speak to de maniger. Mebby he'll let youse scrub de
galleries."
Amarilly, case-hardened against raillery by reason of the possession of
a 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 at
the 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 her
pale cheeks as she voiced her gratitude.
She was the first to enter when the doors opened that afternoon, and she
kept close to the heels of the usher.
"He ain't agoin' to give me the slip," she thought, keeping wary watch
of his lithe form as he slid down the aisle.
In the blaze of light and blare of instruments she scarcely recognized
her workaday environment.
"House sold out!" she muttered with professional pride and enthusiasm as
the signal for the raising of the curtain was given. "Mebby I'd orter
give up my seat so as they could sell it."
There was a moment's conflict between the little scrubber's conscience
and her newly awakened desires.
"I ain't agoin' to, though," she decided. And having so determined, she
gave her conscience a shove to the remotest background, yielding herself
to the full enjoyment of the play.
The rehearsal had been inspiring and awakening, but this, "the real
thing," as Amarilly appraised it, bore her into a land of enchantment.
She was blind and deaf to everything except the scenes enacted on the
stage. Only once was her passionate attention distracted, and that was
when Pete in passing gave her an emphatic nudge and a friendly grin as
he munificently bestowed upon her a package of gum. This she instantly
pocketed "fer the chillern."
At the close of the performance Amarilly sailed home on waves of
excitement. She was the eldest of the House of Jenkins, whose scions,
numbering eight, were all wage-earners save Iry, the baby. After school
hours Flamingus was a district messenger, Gus milked the grocer's cow,
Milton worked in a shoe-shining establishment, Bobby and Bud had paper
routes, while Cory, commonly called "Co," wiped dishes at a boarding-
house. Notwithstanding all these contributions to the family revenue, it
became a sore struggle for the widow of Americanus Jenkins to feed and
clothe such a numerous brood, so she sought further means of
maintenance.
"I've took a boarder!" she announced solemnly to Amarilly on her return
from the theatre. "He's a switchman and I'm agoin' to fix up the attic
fer him. I don't jest see how we air agoin' to manage about feedin' him.
Thar's no room to the table now, and thar ain't dishes enough to go
around, but you're so contrivin' like, I thought you might find out a
way." Memories of the footlights were temporarily banished upon hearing
this wonderful intelligence. A puzzled pucker came between the brows of
the little would-be prima donna and remained there until at last the
exigency was triumphantly met.
"I hev it, ma! When's he comin'?"
"To-morrer fer breakfast."
"Then we must rayhearse to-night afore we kin put it on right. Come, all
you-uns, to the kitchen table."
The Jenkins children, accustomed to the vernacular of the profession,
were eager to participate in a rehearsal, and they scampered
boisterously to the kitchen precincts. Amarilly, as stage director,
provided seats at the table for herself, her mother, Flamingus, Gus, the
baby, and the Boarder, the long-suffering, many-rôled family cat
personating the latter as understudy. Behind their chairs, save those
occupied by the Boarder and the baby, were stationed Milton, Bobby, Bud,
and Cory. This outer row, Amarilly explained, was to be fed from the
plates of their elders with food convenient as was Elijah by the
Scriptural ravens. This plan lifted the strain from the limited table
appointments, but met with opposition from the outpost who rebelled
against their stations.
"I ain't agoin' to stand behind Flam or Gus," growled Milton. "I won't
stand no show fer grub at all."
"I ain't, neither," and "Nit fer me!" chorused the near twins, Bobby and
Bud.
"I want to set at the table and eat like folks!" sobbed Cory.
Mrs. Jenkins advocated immediate surrender, but the diplomatic little
general, whose policy was pacification, in shrill, appealing voice
reassured and wheedled the young mutineers back into the ranks.
"It's the only way we can take a boarder," she persuaded, "and if we git
him, we'll hev more to eat than jest hot pertaters and bread and gravy.
Thar'll be meat, fresh or hotted up, onct a day, and pie on Sundays."
The deserters to a man returned from their ignominious retreat.
"Now, Co, you stand behind me, and when you git tired, you kin set on
half my chair. Milt, git behind ma, and Bud and Bobby, stand back of
Flamingus and Gus. If they don't divvy up even they'll hev to change
places with you. Now, to places!" This conciliatory arrangement proving
satisfactory, supper was served on the new plan with numerous directions
and admonitions from Amarilly.
"No self-helpin's, Milt. Bud, if you knock Flammy's elbow, he needn't
give you anything to eat. Bobby, if you swipe another bite from Gus,
I'll spank you. Co, quit yer self-reachin's! Flammy, you hev got to pass
everything to the Boarder fust. Now, every meal that I don't hev to
speak to one of youse in the back row, youse kin hev merlasses spread on
yer bread."
The rehearsal supper finished and the kitchen "red up," Amarilly's
thoughts again took flight and in fancy she winged her way toward a
glorious future amid the glow and glamor of the footlights. To the
attentive family, who hung in an ecstasy of approval on her vivid
portrayal, she graphically described the play she had witnessed, and
then dramatically announced her intention of going on the stage when she
grew up.
"You kin do it fine, Amarilly," said the mother admiringly.
"And we-uns kin git in free!" cried Bobby jubilantly. In the morning the
Boarder, a pleasant-voiced, quiet-faced man with a look of kindliness
about his eyes and mouth, made his entrance into the family circle. He
commended the table arrangements, praised the coffee, and formed
instantaneous friendships with the children. All the difficulties of the
cuisine having been smoothed over or victoriously met, Amarilly went to
the theatre with a lightened heart. When Mr. Vedder came up to her and
asked how she had enjoyed the performance, she felt emboldened to
confide to him her professional aspirations.
The young ticket-seller did not smile. There was nothing about this
diligent, ill-fed, little worker that appealed to his sense of humor.
"It will be a long time yet, Amarilly, before you can go on the stage,"
he counselled. "Besides, you know the first thing you must have is an
education."
Amarilly sighed hopelessly.
"I can't git to go to school till the boys hev more larnin'. I hev to
work here mornin's and help ma with the washin's in the arternoon.
Mebby, arter a little, I kin git into some night-school." A stage-hand
working near by overheard this conversation and displayed instant
interest in the subject of Amarilly's schooling.
"Couldn't you git off Saturday arternoons?" he asked.
"Yes, I could do that," assured Amarilly eagerly. "Is thar a Saturday
arternoon school?"
"Yes," replied the man. "There is a church guild, St. Mark's, that has a
school. My little gal goes. She larns sewin' and singin' and waitin' on
table and such like. You'd better go with her to-morrow."
"I kin sew now," said Amarilly, repeating this conversation to the
family circle that night, "and I'd like to sing, fer of course I'll hev
to when I'm on the stage, but I git enough waitin' on table to hum. I'd
ruther larn to read better fust of all."
"I ain't much of a scholar," observed the Boarder modestly, "but I can
learn you readin', writin', and spellin' some, and figgerin' too. I'll
give you lessons evenin's."
"We'll begin now!" cried the little tyro enthusiastically.
The Boarder approved this promptness, and that night gave the first
lesson from Flamingus's schoolbooks.
The next morning Amarilly proudly informed the ticket-seller that her
education had begun. She was consequently rather lukewarm in regard to
the Guild school proposition, but the little daughter of the stagehand
pictured the school and her teacher in most enticing fashion.
"You kin be in our class," she coaxed persuasively. "We hev a new
teacher. She's a real swell and wears a diamon' ring and her hair is
more yaller than the wig what the play lady wears. She bed us up to her
house to a supper last week, and thar was velvit carpits and ice-cream
and lots of cake but no pie."
Amarilly's curiosity was aroused, and her red, roughened hand firmly
grasped the confiding one of her little companion as she permitted
herself to be led to the Guild school.