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 matinees. "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 matinee 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.