"I'll teach you, Amarilly," she said impulsively. "I'm sure I'm more proficient in those branches than the Boarder."
"He sez," admitted Amarilly, "that it won't take him long to larn me all he knows; but you see—" She spoke with delicate hesitancy and evident embarrassment. "It's orful good in you to want to larn me—but he might feel hurt-like if I was to quit him."
"You are right, Amarilly. You are a loyal little girl. But I tell you what we will do about it. When you have learned all that the Boarder feels he can teach you, you shall go to night-school. There is one in connection with St. Mark's. I will see that you enter there."
"I didn't know thar was one fer girls," said Amarilly. "I'm glad thar's a way fer me to git eddicated, fer I must hev larnin' afore I kin go on the stage. Mr. Vedder, the ticket-seller to Barlow's, told me so."
"Amarilly,"—and an earnest note crept into the gay, young voice—"you may find things that you will like to do more than to go on the stage."
"No!" asserted the youthful aspirant, "Thar ain't nuthin' else I'd like so well."
"Amarilly, I am going to tell you something. Once, not long ago, I had the stage fever, but I think I know now there is something—something I should like better."
"What?" queried Amarilly skeptically.
"I can't tell you now, but you have a long time yet in which to decide your future. Tell me what I can do to help your mother."
"If you could git us more washin's," exclaimed Amarilly eagerly, "it would help heaps. We could take in lots more than we do now."