Presently a small seamstress asked for instruction as to the proper method of putting the strips together. The fair face of the young teacher became clouded for a moment, and she was unmistakably confused. Her wavering, dubious glance fell upon Amarilly sitting tense and upright as she made quick, forceful, and effective stabs with her needle, biting her thread vigorously and resonantly. The stitches were microscopic and even; the strips symmetrically and neatly joined.
The teacher's face cleared as she saw and seized her avenue of escape.
"You may all," she directed, "look at Amarilly's work and sew the strips just as she does. Hers are perfect."
[Illustration: "You may all," she directed, "look at Amarilly's work.">[
Amarilly's wan little face brightened, and she proceeded to show the children how to sew, bringing the same ease and effectiveness into her tutoring that she displayed when instructing her brothers and Cory.
The sewing lesson continued for an hour. Then the children sang songs to a piano accompaniment, and there followed a lesson in cooking and the proper setting of a table. All this instruction was succeeded by an informal chat.
"I want you all to tell me what you are going to do when you grow to be women," said Miss King.
In most cases the occupations of their parents were chosen, and the number of washerwomen, scrubbers, and seamstresses in embryo was appalling.
"And you, Amarilly?" she asked, addressing the new pupil last of all.
Amarilly's mien was lofty, her voice consequential, as she replied in dramatic dénouement: