"Couldn't you git off Saturday arternoons?" he asked. "Yes, I could do that," assured Amarilly eagerly. "Is thar a Saturday arternoon school?" "Yes," replied the man. "There is a church guild, St. Mark's, that has a school. My little gal goes. She larns sewin' and singin' and waitin' on table and such like. You'd better go with her to-morrow." "I kin sew now," said Amarilly, repeating this conversation to the family circle that night, "and I'd like to sing, fer of course I'll hev to when I'm on the stage, but I git enough waitin' on table to hum. I'd ruther larn to read better fust of all." "I ain't much of a scholar," observed the Boarder modestly, "but I can learn you readin', writin', and spellin' some, and figgerin' too. I'll give you lessons evenin's." "We'll begin now!" cried the little tyro enthusiastically. The Boarder approved this promptness, and that night gave the first lesson from Flamingus's schoolbooks. The next morning Amarilly proudly informed the ticket-seller that her education had begun. She was consequently rather lukewarm in regard to the Guild school proposition, but the little daughter of the stagehand pictured the school and her teacher in most enticing fashion. "You kin be in our class," she coaxed persuasively. "We hev a new teacher. She's a real swell and wears a diamon' ring and her hair is more yaller than the wig what the play lady wears. She bed us up to her house to a supper last week, and thar was velvit carpits and ice-cream and lots of cake but no pie." Amarilly's curiosity was aroused, and her red, roughened hand firmly grasped the confiding one of her little companion as she permitted herself to be led to the Guild school. CHAPTER II The teacher at the Guild was even more beautiful than Amarilly's fancy, fed by the little girl's vivid description, had pictured. "Her hair ain't boughten," decided the keen-eyed critic as she gazed adoringly at the golden braids crowning the small head. The color of her eyes was open to speculation; when they had changed from gray to green, from green to hazel, and from hazel to purple, Amarilly gave up the enigma. The color of her complexion changed, too, in the varying tints of peaches. "I do b'lieve she ain't got no make-up on," declared Amarilly wonderingly. The little daughter of the stage-hand had not overappraised the diamond. It shone resplendent on a slender, shapely hand. "Miss King, I've brung a new scholar," introduced the little girl importantly. "She's Amarilly." As she glanced at her new pupil, the young teacher's eyes brightened with spontaneous interest, and a welcoming smile parted her lips. "I'm glad to see you, Amarilly. Here's a nice little pile of blue carpet rags to sew and make into a ball. When you have made a lot of balls I'll have them woven into a pretty blue rug for you to take home and keep." "For the Boarder's room!" thought Amarilly joyously, as she went at her work with the avidity that marked all her undertakings.