An instant gleam of recognition came into his kindly eyes.
"You must be Amarilly Jenkins. I have heard very good accounts of you— that you are industrious and a great help to your mother."
Amarilly looked at him shrewdly.
"She told you," she affirmed positively.
There was but one "she" in the world of these two, and John Meredith naturally comprehended.
"She's orful good to us," continued Amarilly, "and it was through her,
Mr. St. John, that we got the surpluses."
"It was, indeed, Amarilly; but my name is not St. John. It is John
Meredith."
"She was jest kiddin' me, then!" deduced Amarilly appreciatively. "I thought at fust as how yer name was St. Mark, and she said you could never be a St. Mark, that you was St. John. She likes a joke. Mr. Reeves-Eggleston (he's playin' the part of the jilted man in the new play this week) says it's either folks as never hez hed their troubles or them as hez hed more'n their share what laughs at everything, only, he says, it's diffrent kinds of laughs."
The reference to the play reminded John of a duty to perform.
"Miss King told me, Amarilly, that you want to go on the stage when you grow up."