"Sure!" she acquiesced quickly.
"There are two things you must do for me. Never say 'et'; say 'ate' instead. Then you must say 'can'; not 'kin.' It will be hard to remember at first, but every time you forget and make a mistake, remember to-day and our jolly little luncheon, will you?"
"I will, and I can, Mr. Derry."
"You're an apt little pupil, Amarilly, and I am going to teach you two words every time you come."
"Oh!" exclaimed Amarilly, brightening. "Will you want me ter come agin?"
"Indeed I shall. I am going away next week to the mountains for a couple of months. When I come back, I am going to have you come every morning at nine o'clock. You can prepare and serve my simple breakfast and clean my rooms every day. Then they won't get so disreputable. I will pay you what they do at the theatre, and it will not be such hard work. Will you enjoy it as well?"
"Oh, better!" exclaimed Amarilly.
And with this naive admission died the last spark of Amarilly's stage-lust.
"Then consider yourself engaged. You can call for the surplice to-morrow afternoon at this hour."
"Thank you, Mr. Derry."