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