Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 18, 2025
Then a troubled look came into her eyes. "Mebby I shouldn't tell you what she says. Flamingus says I talk too much." "It was all right to tell me, Amarilly," he replied with radiant eyes, "as long as she said nothing personal." Amarilly looked mystified. "I mean," he explained gently, "that she said nothing of me, nothing that you should not repeat.
Jenkins to send Flamingus his is the only name of the brood that my memory retains for the church laundry." "He may call at the rectory," replied John, "and get the house laundry as well." "That will be good news for them. I shall enjoy watching Amarilly's face when she hears it." "And now, Colette, will you do something for me?" "Maybe. What is it?" she asked guardedly.
I am glad, though, to see that you are conscientious. Miss King tells me you are to go to the night-school. Do you attend Sunday-school?" Amarilly looked apologetic. "Not reg'lar. Thar's a meetin'-house down near us that we go to sometimes. Flamingus and me and Gus give a nickel apiece towards gittin' a malodeyon fer it, but it squeaks orful. 'Tain't much like the orchestry to the theayter.
"I seen an ad," said the thrifty Flamingus, "that the Beehive would give away baseball caps to-day." Amarilly immediately set out for the Beehive, an emporium of fashion in the vicinity of the theatre. It was the noon hour, and there were no other customers in evidence.
Jenkins, who deemed it an ideal place in which to keep her tubs, mops, boiler, and wringer. Milt had designs upon it for a boy's reading-room and club; Flamingus coveted a gymnasium. Bobby, Bud, Cory, and Iry had already appropriated it as a playhouse. Amarilly openly and ably defended Gus and his cherished, illusory plan. Of all her brothers, he was the one to whom her heart most inclined.
"Thar ain't agoin' to be no pardner business about this," he announced. "The cow won't come till she's mine all mine and when she does, I'm agoin' to pay the Boarder for his work." "If he wants to be so all-fired smart, we won't help him git no cow," declared Flamingus, "and the shed kin be used for a summer kitchen arter all." This use of the new building had been the fondest dream of Mrs.
Jenkins. "We'd orter hev ice-cream and pie every day," reproached Cory. "It would be reckoned a purty big salary if one man got it all," speculated the Boarder. "We are rich!" exclaimed Bobby decisively. "I'll tell you what we'll do," pursued Amarilly. "We must start a syndicate." "What's that, a show?" demanded Flamingus. "No; I heard the artists down to the studio talking about it, and Mr.
Jenkins looked a little askance at the "best skirt" of blue which had shrunk from repeated washings to a near-knee length, but Amarilly assured her that it was not as short as the skirts worn by the ballet girls. She cut up two old blouses and fashioned a new, bi-colored waist bedizened with gilt buttons. The Boarder presented a resplendent buckle, and Flamingus provided a gawdy hair-ribbon.
The Jenkins children, accustomed to the vernacular of the profession, were eager to participate in a rehearsal, and they scampered boisterously to the kitchen precincts. Amarilly, as stage director, provided seats at the table for herself, her mother, Flamingus, Gus, the baby, and the Boarder, the long-suffering, many-roled family cat personating the latter as understudy.
She was the eldest of the House of Jenkins, whose scions, numbering eight, were all wage-earners save Iry, the baby. After school hours Flamingus was a district messenger, Gus milked the grocer's cow, Milton worked in a shoe-shining establishment, Bobby and Bud had paper routes, while Cory, commonly called "Co," wiped dishes at a boarding- house.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking