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 ofadoration]

AMARILLY OF CLOTHES-LINE ALLEY

CHAPTER I

The tiny, trivial touch of Destiny that caused the turn in Amarilly'sfate-tide came one morning when, in her capacity as assistant to thescrub ladies at the Barlow Stock Theatre, she viewed for the first timethe dress rehearsal of _A Terrible Trial_. Heretofore the patient littleplodder had found in her occupation only the sordid satisfaction ofdrawing her wages, but now the resplendent costumes, the tragedy in thegestures of the villain, the languid grace of Lord Algernon, and thehaughty treble of the leading lady struck the spark that fired ambitionin her sluggish breast. 

"Oh!" she gasped in wistful-voiced soliloquy, as she leaned against hermop-stick and gazed aspiringly at the stage, "I wonder if I couldn'trise!"

"Sure thing, you kin!" derisively assured Pete Noyes, vender of gum atmatinées. "I'll speak to de maniger. Mebby he'll let youse scrub degalleries. "

Amarilly, case-hardened against raillery by reason of the possession ofa 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 atthe small, eager face of the youngest scrubber. 

"Stop at the office on your way out, Amarilly, " he said kindly, "andI'll give you a pass to the matinée this afternoon. "

Amarilly's young heart fluttered wildly and sent a wave of pink into herpale cheeks as she voiced her gratitude. 

She was the first to enter when the doors opened that afternoon, and shekept close to the heels of the usher. 

"He ain't agoin' to give me the slip, " she thought, keeping wary watchof his lithe form as he slid down the aisle. 

In the blaze of light and blare of instruments she scarcely recognizedher workaday environment. 

"House sold out!" she muttered with professional pride and enthusiasm asthe signal for the raising of the curtain was given. "Mebby I'd ortergive up my seat so as they could sell it. "

There was a moment's conflict between the little scrubber's conscienceand her newly awakened desires. 

"I ain't agoin' to, though, " she decided. And having so determined, shegave her conscience a shove to the remotest background, yielding herselfto the full enjoyment of the play. 

The rehearsal had been inspiring and awakening, but this, "the realthing, " as Amarilly appraised it, bore her into a land of enchantment. She was blind and deaf to everything except the scenes enacted on thestage. Only once was her passionate attention distracted, and that waswhen Pete in passing gave her an emphatic nudge and a friendly grin ashe munificently bestowed upon her a package of gum. This she instantlypocketed "fer the chillern. "

At the close of the performance Amarilly sailed home on waves ofexcitement. She was the eldest of the House of Jenkins, whose scions, numbering eight, were all wage-earners save Iry, the baby. After schoolhours Flamingus was a district messenger, Gus milked the grocer's cow, Milton worked in a shoe-shining establishment, Bobby and Bud had paperroutes, while Cory, commonly called "Co, " wiped dishes at a boarding-house. Notwithstanding all these contributions to the family revenue, itbecame a sore struggle for the widow of Americanus Jenkins to feed andclothe such a numerous brood, so she sought further means ofmaintenance. 

"I've took a boarder!" she announced solemnly to Amarilly on her returnfrom the theatre. "He's a switchman and I'm agoin' to fix up the atticfer him. I don't jest see how we air agoin' to manage about feedin' him. Thar's no room to the table now, and thar ain't dishes enough to goaround, but you're so contrivin' like, I thought you might find out away. " Memories of the footlights were temporarily banished upon hearingthis wonderful intelligence. A puzzled pucker came between the brows ofthe little would-be prima donna and remained there until at last theexigency was triumphantly met. 

"I hev it, ma! When's he comin'?"

"To-morrer fer breakfast. "

"Then we must rayhearse to-night afore we kin put it on right. Come, allyou-uns, to the kitchen table. "

The Jenkins children, accustomed to the vernacular of the profession, were eager to participate in a rehearsal, and they scamperedboisterously to the kitchen precincts. Amarilly, as stage director, provided seats at the table for herself, her mother, Flamingus, Gus, thebaby, and the Boarder, the long-suffering, many-rôled family catpersonating the latter as understudy. Behind their chairs, save thoseoccupied by the Boarder and the baby, were stationed Milton, Bobby, Bud, and Cory. This outer row, Amarilly explained, was to be fed from theplates of their elders with food convenient as was Elijah by theScriptural ravens. This plan lifted the strain from the limited tableappointments, but met with opposition from the outpost who rebelledagainst their stations. 

"I ain't agoin' to stand behind Flam or Gus, " growled Milton. "I won'tstand no show fer grub at all. "

"I ain't, neither, " and "Nit fer me!" chorused the near twins, Bobby andBud. 

"I want to set at the table and eat like folks!" sobbed Cory. 

Mrs. Jenkins advocated immediate surrender, but the diplomatic littlegeneral, whose policy was pacification, in shrill, appealing voicereassured and wheedled the young mutineers back into the ranks. 

"It's the only way we can take a boarder, " she persuaded, "and if we githim, we'll hev more to eat than jest hot pertaters and bread and gravy. Thar'll be meat, fresh or hotted up, onct a day, and pie on Sundays. "

The deserters to a man returned from their ignominious retreat. 

"Now, Co, you stand behind me, and when you git tired, you kin set onhalf my chair. Milt, git behind ma, and Bud and Bobby, stand back ofFlamingus and Gus. If they don't divvy up even they'll hev to changeplaces with you. Now, to places!" This conciliatory arrangement provingsatisfactory, supper was served on the new plan with numerous directionsand admonitions from Amarilly. 

"No self-helpin's, Milt. Bud, if you knock Flammy's elbow, he needn'tgive you anything to eat. Bobby, if you swipe another bite from Gus, I'll spank you. Co, quit yer self-reachin's! Flammy, you hev got to passeverything to the Boarder fust. Now, every meal that I don't hev tospeak to one of youse in the back row, youse kin hev merlasses spread onyer bread. "

The rehearsal supper finished and the kitchen "red up, " Amarilly'sthoughts again took flight and in fancy she winged her way toward aglorious future amid the glow and glamor of the footlights. To theattentive family, who hung in an ecstasy of approval on her vividportrayal, she graphically described the play she had witnessed, andthen dramatically announced her intention of going on the stage when shegrew up. 

"You kin do it fine, Amarilly, " said the mother admiringly. 

"And we-uns kin git in free!" cried Bobby jubilantly. In the morning theBoarder, a pleasant-voiced, quiet-faced man with a look of kindlinessabout his eyes and mouth, made his entrance into the family circle. Hecommended the table arrangements, praised the coffee, and formedinstantaneous friendships with the children. All the difficulties of thecuisine having been smoothed over or victoriously met, Amarilly went tothe theatre with a lightened heart. When Mr. Vedder came up to her andasked how she had enjoyed the performance, she felt emboldened toconfide to him her professional aspirations. 

The young ticket-seller did not smile. There was nothing about thisdiligent, ill-fed, little worker that appealed to his sense of humor. 

"It will be a long time yet, Amarilly, before you can go on the stage, "he counselled. "Besides, you know the first thing you must have is aneducation. "

Amarilly sighed hopelessly. 

"I can't git to go to school till the boys hev more larnin'. I hev towork here mornin's and help ma with the washin's in the arternoon. Mebby, arter a little, I kin git into some night-school. " A stage-handworking near by overheard this conversation and displayed instantinterest in the subject of Amarilly's schooling. 

"Couldn't you git off Saturday arternoons?" he asked. 

"Yes, I could do that, " assured Amarilly eagerly. "Is thar a Saturdayarternoon school?"

"Yes, " replied the man. "There is a church guild, St. Mark's, that has aschool. My little gal goes. She larns sewin' and singin' and waitin' ontable and such like. You'd better go with her to-morrow. "

"I kin sew now, " said Amarilly, repeating this conversation to thefamily circle that night, "and I'd like to sing, fer of course I'll hevto when I'm on the stage, but I git enough waitin' on table to hum. I'druther larn to read better fust of all. "

"I ain't much of a scholar, " observed the Boarder modestly, "but I canlearn you readin', writin', and spellin' some, and figgerin' too. I'llgive you lessons evenin's. "

"We'll begin now!" cried the little tyro enthusiastically. 

The Boarder approved this promptness, and that night gave the firstlesson from Flamingus's schoolbooks. 

The next morning Amarilly proudly informed the ticket-seller that hereducation had begun. She was consequently rather lukewarm in regard tothe Guild school proposition, but the little daughter of the stagehandpictured the school and her teacher in most enticing fashion. 

"You kin be in our class, " she coaxed persuasively. "We hev a newteacher. She's a real swell and wears a diamon' ring and her hair ismore yaller than the wig what the play lady wears. She bed us up to herhouse to a supper last week, and thar was velvit carpits and ice-creamand lots of cake but no pie. "

Amarilly's curiosity was aroused, and her red, roughened hand firmlygrasped the confiding one of her little companion as she permittedherself 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 gazedadoringly at the golden braids crowning the small head. The color of hereyes was open to speculation; when they had changed from gray to green, from green to hazel, and from hazel to purple, Amarilly gave up theenigma. The color of her complexion changed, too, in the varying tintsof peaches. 

"I do b'lieve she ain't got no make-up on, " declared Amarillywonderingly. 

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 girlimportantly. "She's Amarilly. "

As she glanced at her new pupil, the young teacher's eyes brightenedwith spontaneous interest, and a welcoming smile parted her lips. 

"I'm glad to see you, Amarilly. Here's a nice little pile of blue carpetrags to sew and make into a ball. When you have made a lot of balls I'llhave 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 herwork with the avidity that marked all her undertakings. 

Presently a small seamstress asked for instruction as to the propermethod of putting the strips together. The fair face of the youngteacher became clouded for a moment, and she was unmistakably confused. Her wavering, dubious glance fell upon Amarilly sitting tense andupright as she made quick, forceful, and effective stabs with herneedle, biting her thread vigorously and resonantly. The stitches weremicroscopic 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 stripsjust 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 thechildren how to sew, bringing the same ease and effectiveness into hertutoring that she displayed when instructing her brothers and Cory. 

The sewing lesson continued for an hour. Then the children sang songs toa piano accompaniment, and there followed a lesson in cooking and theproper setting of a table. All this instruction was succeeded by aninformal chat. 

"I want you all to tell me what you are going to do when you grow to bewomen, " said Miss King. 

In most cases the occupations of their parents were chosen, and thenumber of washerwomen, scrubbers, and seamstresses in embryo wasappalling. 

"And you, Amarilly?" she asked, addressing the new pupil last of all. 

Amarilly's mien was lofty, her voice consequential, as she replied indramatic dénouement:

"I'm goin' on the stage!"

The young teacher evinced a most eager interest in this declaration. 

"Oh, Amarilly! We all have a stage-longing period. When did you firstthink of such a career?"

"I'm in the perfesshun now, " replied Amarilly pompously. 

"Really! Tell me what you do, Amarilly. "

"I scrub at the Barlow Theatre, and I went to the matinee day aforeyisterday. I hed a pass give to me. "

These statements made such a visible impression on her audience thatAmarilly waxed eloquent and proceeded to describe the play, warming toher work as she gained confidence. The gestures of Lord Algernon and theleading lady were reproduced freely, fearlessly, and faithfully. 

With a glimmer of mischief dancing in her eyes, the young teacherlistened appreciatively but apprehensively as she noted the amazedexpression on the faces of the teachers of adjacent classes whenAmarilly's treble tones were wafted toward them. Fortunately, therealistic rendering of Lord Algernon's declaration of love wasinterrupted by the accompaniment to a song, which was followed by thedismissal of the school. 

"Kin I take my strips home to sew on?" asked Amarilly. 

"Oh, no!" replied Miss King. "That is not permitted. "

Seeing the look of disappointment in the child's eyes, she asked inkindly tone:

"Why are you in such a hurry to finish the work, Amarilly?"

"We've took a Boarder, " explained Amarilly, "and I want the rug fer hisroom. It'll take an orful long time to git it done if I only work on itan hour onct a week. He's so good to me, I want to do something to makehis room look neat, so he'll feel to hum. "

The young teacher reflected a moment. 

"I'll tell you what we'll do, Amarilly. I will buy one of the rugs thatare to be on sale at the church fair this week. They have some very nicelarge ones. I will give it to you, and when yours is finished you maygive it to me in return. "

"Oh, thank you!" cried Amarilly, her countenance brightening, "But won'tyou need it afore I kin git this one done?"

"No; I am sure I shall not, " replied the young lady gravely. 

When they left the building the teacher paused as she was about to stepinto her electric brougham. "Where do you live, Amarilly?"

Amarilly gave her street and number. 

"You must live farther away than any of the other children. Get in, dear; I will take you home. "

She had opened the door as she spoke, and the little scrubber's eyeswere dazzled by the elegance of the appointments--a silver vase filledwith violets, a silver card-case, and--but Amarilly resolutely shut hereyes upon this proffered grandeur and turned to the lean but longinglittle daughter of the stage-hand. 

"You see, I come with her, " she explained simply and loyally. 

"There is room for you both. Myrtie can sit on this little seat. "

Overawed by the splendor of her environment, Amarilly held her breath asthey glided swiftly through the streets. There was other glory, itseemed, than that of the footlights. When the happy little Myrtle hadbeen left at her humble home the young teacher turned with eageranticipation to Amarilly. 

"Tell me more about yourself, Amarilly. First of all, who is theBoarder?"

Amarilly explained their affairs, even to the "double-decker diner, " asthe Boarder had called the table arrangement. 

"And what has he done for you, Amarilly, that you are so anxious heshould have a rug?"

"He's larnin' me readin', writin', spellin', and figgers. "

"Don't you go to school?"

"No; I hev to bring in wages and help ma with the washin's. "

"I'll teach you, Amarilly, " she said impulsively. "I'm sure I'm moreproficient in those branches than the Boarder. "

"He sez, " admitted Amarilly, "that it won't take him long to larn me allhe knows; but you see--" She spoke with delicate hesitancy and evidentembarrassment. "It's orful good in you to want to larn me--but he mightfeel hurt-like if I was to quit him. "

"You are right, Amarilly. You are a loyal little girl. But I tell youwhat we will do about it. When you have learned all that the Boarderfeels he can teach you, you shall go to night-school. There is one inconnection with St. Mark's. I will see that you enter there. "

"I didn't know thar was one fer girls, " said Amarilly. "I'm glad thar'sa way fer me to git eddicated, fer I must hev larnin' afore I kin go onthe stage. Mr. Vedder, the ticket-seller to Barlow's, told me so. "

"Amarilly, "--and an earnest note crept into the gay, young voice--"youmay find things that you will like to do more than to go on the stage. "

"No!" asserted the youthful aspirant, "Thar ain't nuthin' else I'd likeso well. "

"Amarilly, I am going to tell you something. Once, not long ago, I hadthe stage fever, but I think I know now there is something--something Ishould like better. "

"What?" queried Amarilly skeptically. 

"I can't tell you now, but you have a long time yet in which to decideyour future. Tell me what I can do to help your mother. "

"If you could git us more washin's, " exclaimed Amarilly eagerly, "itwould help heaps. We could take in lots more than we do now. "

"Let me think. You see we keep a laundress; but--does your mother do upvery fine things--like laces--carefully?"

"She does, " replied Amarilly glibly. "She kin do 'em orful keerful, andwe dry the colored stuffs in the shade. And our clo'es come out snow-white allers, and we never tears laces nor git in too much bluin' orstarch the way some folks does. "

"Then I'll give you my address and you can come for my fine waists; andlet me see, I am sure I can get St. Mark's laundry work for you, too. "

"You're orful good, Miss King. This is where we hev to turn down this'ere court. "

The "court" appeared to Miss King more like an alley. The advent of thebrougham in the little narrow right-of-way filled every window withhawk-eyed observers. About the Jenkins's doorstep was grouped the entirehousehold from the Boarder to the baby, and the light, musical voices ofchildren floating through the soft spring air fell pleasantly upon theears of the young settlement worker. 

"So this is where you live, Amarilly?" she asked, her eyes sparkling asshe focussed them on the family. "You needn't come for the washing thefirst time. I will bring it myself so I can see all your littlebrothers. Be sure to come to the Guild next Saturday, and then I'll havethe rug for you to take home. Goodbye, dear. "

Knowing that she was observed by myriad eyes, Amarilly stepped loftilyfrom the brougham and made a sweeping stage courtesy to her departingbenefactress. 

"Are you on the stage now, Amarilly?" asked Co eagerly as she came tomeet her sister. 

"No; but she, " with a wave of her hand toward the swiftly glidingelectric, "is agoin to help me git eddicated, and she has give me abeautiful rug fer the Boarder, and we're agoin' to hev her waists towash, and Mr. St. Mark's clo'es, and she told all the scholars to sewlike me 'cause' I sewed the best, and I've larned how to set our table. We mustn't stack up the knife and fork and spoon on ends any more. Theknife goes to the right, the fork to the left of the plate, and thespoon goes back of it and the tumbler and the napkin, when you has 'em, to the right. "

"I do declare, Amarilly, if it ain't jest like a fairy story!" criedMrs. Jenkins enthusiastically. "You allers did strike luck. "

"You bet!" cried Bobby admiringly. "Things go some where Amarilly is. "

Amarilly was happier even than she had been on the night of the eventfulmatinée day. The electric brougham had seemed a veritable fairygodmother's coach to her. But it was not the ride that stood uppermostin her memory as she lay awake far into the night; it was the littleword of endearment uttered in caressing cadence. 

"No one ain't ever called me that afore, " she murmured wistfully. "Is'pose ma ain't hed time, and thar was no one else to keer. "

Impulsively and tenderly her thin little arm encircled the baby sleepingbeside her. 

"Dear!" she whispered in an awed tone. "Dear!"

Iry answered with a sleepy, cooing note. 

CHAPTER III

Colette King was not one whom the voice of the people of St. Mark'swould proclaim as the personification of their ideal of a pastor's wife, yet John Meredith loved her with the love that passeth allunderstanding. Perhaps the secret of her charm for him lay in the factthat she treated him as she did other men--men who did not wear asurplice. And yet his surplice and all that pertained thereto werematters of great moment to the rector of St. Mark's. Little traces ofhis individuality were evident in the fashioning of this clericalgarment. A pocket for his handkerchief was stitched on the left side. 

The flowers, the baptismal font, the altar cloth, and the robes of thevested choir he insisted should be immaculate in whiteness. White, thecolor of the lily, he declared, was the emblem of purity. There weremembers of his flock so worldly minded as to whisper insinuatingly thatwhite was extremely becoming to Colette King. Many washerwomen hadapplied for the task of laundering the ecclesiastical linen; many hadbeen tried and found wanting. So after her interview with Amarilly, Colette asked the rector of St. Mark's to call at her house "onimportant business. "

From the time he was ten years old until he became rector of St. Mark's, John Meredith had been a member of the household of his guardian, HenryKing, and had ever cheerfully and gladly borne with the caprices of thelittle Colette. 

He answered the present summons promptly and palpitatingly. It had beentwo weeks since he had remonstrated with Colette for the surprisinglysudden announcement, made in seeming seriousness, that she was going tostudy opera with a view to going on the stage. The fact that she had alight, sweet soprano adapted only to the rendition of drawing-roomballads did not lessen in his eyes the probability of her carrying outthis resolve. 

She had met his reproving expostulations in a spirit of banteringraillery and replied with a defiance of his opinion that had pierced hisheart with arrow-like swiftness. Since then she had studiously avoidedmeeting him, and he was not sure whether he was now recalled to listento a reiteration of her intentions or to receive an anodyne for thebitterness of her remarks at their last interview. 

"I sent for you, John, " she said demurely and without preamble, "to seeif you have found a satisfactory laundress yet for the surplices. "

"Colette!" he exclaimed in rebuking tone, his face reddening at herquestion which he supposed to be made in mere mockery. 

"I am not speaking to you as Colette King, " she replied with a look halfcajoling, half flippant, "but as a teacher in the Young Woman'sAuxiliary Guild to the rector of St. Mark's. You see I no longer lead afoolish, futile life. Here is the evidence in the case, " holding up aslender pink forefinger. "See how it is pricked! For three Saturdayafternoons I have shown little girls that smelled of fried potatoes howto sew. I shall really learn something myself about the feminine art ofneedlework if I continue in my present straight, domestic path. "

"Colette, you cannot know how glad I am to hear this. Why did you try tomake me think the laundry work was--"

"But the laundry work _is_ the main issue. Yesterday I had quite decidedto give up this uninteresting work. "

Watching him warily, she let the shadow in his eyes linger a momentbefore she continued:

"And then there came into my class a new pupil, poorly clad andignorant, but so redolent of soapsuds and with such a freshly launderedlook that I renewed my inclinations to charity. I took her home in myelectric, and she lived at a distance that gave me ample time to listento the complete chronicles of her young life. Her father is dead. Hermother was left with eight children whom she supports by taking inwashing. They have a boarder and they go around the dining-room tabletwice. My new pupil's name is Amarilly Jenkins, and she has educationallongings which cannot be satisfied because she has to work, so I amgoing to enter her in St. Mark's night-school when she has finished aspecial course with the private tutor she now has. "

"Colette, " said the young minister earnestly, "why do you continuallytry to show yourself to me in a false light? It was sweet in you to takethis little girl home in your brougham and to feel an interest in herimprovement. "

"Not at all!" protested Colette. "My trend at present may appear to becharitable, but Amarilly and I have a common interest--a fellowfeeling--that makes me wondrous kind. We both have longings to appear inpublic on the stage. "

At this sudden challenge, this second lowering of the red flag, John'sface grew stern. 

"Amarilly, " continued the liquid voice, --"has had more experience instage life than I have had. She has commenced at the lowest round of thedramatic ladder of fame. She scrubs at the Barlow Theatre, and she isquite familiar with stage lore. Her hero is the man who plays the roleof Lord Algernon in _A Terrible Trial_. "

He made no reply, and Colette presently broke the silence. 

"Seriously, John, " she said practically and in a tone far different fromher former one, "the Jenkins family are poor and most deserving. I amgoing to give them some work, and if you would give them a trial on thechurch linen, it would help them so much. There was a regular army oflittle children on the doorstep, and it must be a struggle to feed themall. I should like to help them--to give them something--but they seemto be the kind of people that you can help only by giving them work toperform. I have learned that true independence is found only among thepoor. "

John took a little notebook from his pocket. 

"What is their address, Colette?"

She took the book from him and wrote down the street and number. 

"Colette, you endeavor to conceal a tender heart--"

"And will you give them--Mrs. Jenkins--a trial?"

"Yes; this week. "

"That will make Amarilly so happy, " she said, brightening. "I am goingthere to-morrow to take them some work, and I will tell Mrs. Jenkins tosend Flamingus--his is the only name of the brood that my memoryretains--for the church laundry. "

"He may call at the rectory, " replied John, "and get the house laundryas well. "

"That will be good news for them. I shall enjoy watching Amarilly's facewhen she hears it. "

"And now, Colette, will you do something for me?"

"Maybe. What is it?" she asked guardedly. 

"Will you abandon the idea of going on the stage, or studying for thatpurpose?"

"Perforce. Father won't consent. "

A look of relief drove the trouble from the dark eyes fixed on hers. 

"I'll be twenty-one in a year, however, " she added carelessly. 

John was wise enough to perceive the wilfulness that prompted thisreply, and he deftly changed the subject of conversation. 

"About this little girl, Amarilly. We must find her something in the wayof employment. The atmosphere of a theatre isn't the proper one for achild of that age. Do you think so?"

"Theoretically, no; but Amarilly is not impressionable to atmospherealtogether. She seems a hard-working, staunch little soul, and all thatrelieves the sordidness of her life and lightens the dreariness of herwork is the 'theayter, ' as she calls it. So don't destroy her illusions, John. You'll do her more harm than good. "

"Not if I give her something real in the place of what you rightly termher illusions. "

"You can't. Sunday-school would not satisfy a broad-minded littleproletarian like Amarilly, so don't preach to _her_. "

He winced perceptibly. 

"Do I preach to _you_, Colette? Is that how you regard me--as a prosypreacher who--"

"No, John. Just as a disturber of dreams--that is all. "

"A disturber of dreams?" he repeated wistfully. "It is you, Colette, whoare a disturber of dreams. If you would only let my dreams becomerealities!"

"Then, to be paradoxical, your realities might change back to dreams, oreven nightmares. Returning to soapsuds and Amarilly Jenkins, will you gothere with me to-morrow and make arrangements with Mrs. Jenkins for thelaundry work?"

"Indeed I will, Colette, and--"

"Don't look so serious, John. Until that dreadful evening, the last timeyou called, you always left your pulpit punctilio behind you when youcame here. "

"Colette!" he began in protest. 

But she perversely refused to fall in with his serious vein. Chatteringgayly yet half-defiantly, on her face the while a baffling smile, partlytender, partly amused, and wholly coquettish--the smile that maddenedand yet entranced him--she brought the mask of reserve to his face andman. At such times he never succeeded in remembering that she was butlittle more than a child, heart-free, capricious, and wilful. Despairingof changing her mood to the serious one that he loved yet so seldomevoked, he arose and bade her good-night. 

When he was in the hall she softly called him back, meeting him with ahalf-penitent look in her eyes, which had suddenly become gazelle-like. 

"You may preach to me again some time, John. There are moments when Ibelieve I like it, because no other man dares to do it" "Dares?" hequeried with a smile. 

"Yes; dares. They all fear to offend. And you, John, you fear nothing!"

"Yes, I do, " he answered gravely, as he looked down upon her. "There isone thing I fear that makes me tremble, Colette. "

But her mood had again changed, and with a mischievous, elusive smileshe bade him go. Inert and musing, he wandered at random through thelights and shadows of the city streets, with a wistful look in his eyesand just the shadow of a pang in his heart. 

"She is very young, " he said condoningly, answering an accusing thought. "She has been a little spoiled, naturally. She has seen life only fromthe side that amuses and entertains. Some day, when she realizes, as itcomes to us all to do, that care and sorrow bring their own sustainingpower, she will not dally among the petty things of life; the wilfulwaywardness will turn to winning womanliness. "

CHAPTER IV

The next afternoon when Amarilly came home from the theatre, her mothermet her with another burst of information. 

"Miss King and the preacher was here. He's agoin' to give us all thechurch surpluses to wash and his house-wash, too. Flamingus is to go ferthem to the rectry to-night, and you're to go to Miss King's and get thewaists she has to be did up. She left two car tickets fer you. "

"We air jest astubbin' our toes on luck, " gasped Amarilly. 

"The fust pay from the new washin's shall go fer a new hat and dress feryou, Amarilly. It's acomin' to you all right. 'Twas you as got this workfer us. "

"No!" was the emphatic reply. "We'll git some more cheers, knives, spoons, plates, cups, and two more leaves fer the table, so's thechillern kin all set to table to onct. "

"That'll be a hull lot more convenient, " admitted Mrs. Jenkinshopefully. "Co spills things so, and the boys quarrel when you and theBoarder ain't here to keep peace. It was jest orful this noon. Youwasn't here and the Boarder kerried his dinner. 'Cause Flam put too muchvinegar on Milt's beans, Milt poured it down Flam's neck, and when Isent him away from the table he sassed me. "

"Jiminy!" protested Amarilly indignantly. "I'd make Milt go without hissupper to-night. "

"'Tain't his stummick I'm agoin' to punish, " said Mrs. Jenkinssarcastically. "I've laid by a willer switch that'll feel sharper thanthe vinegar he wasted. You'd better go to Miss King's right away--and, Amarilly, mind you ride both ways. It's too far to walk. Don't you sellthe tickets!"

This last prohibitory remark was made in remembrance of Amarilly'scommercial instincts. 

When Amarilly was admitted to the basement of her young benefactress'shome a trimly-capped little maid took her to Colette's boudoir. 

"Sit down and talk to me, Amarilly. I want to hear more about LordAlgernon and Mr. Vedder and Pete. Here's a box of chocolate creams thatmust be eaten while they are fresh. "

Amarilly was slightly awed at first by the luxurious appointments of theroom, but she soon recovered her ease and devoured the novel sweets withappreciative avidity. Then she proved herself a fascinating raconteur ofthe annals of a world unknown to Colette. It was a matter of course toAmarilly that the leading lady should be supporting an invalid sister;that the languid Lord Algernon should be sending his savings to his oldmother who lived in the country; that the understudy should sewindustriously through rehearsals and behind the scenes between parts forher two little fatherless girls; that Pete Noyes should "bank" to buy awheeled chair for his rheumatic father; that the villain was "layin' by"for his parents to come from the Fatherland, and that the company shouldall chip in to send the property woman's sick child to the seashore. Butto Colette the homely little stories were vignettes of another side oflife. 

"Have you been to the rectory yet, Amarilly?" she asked presently, whenAmarilly's memories of stage life lagged. 

"No; Flammy has went fer Mr. St. Mark's things. "

"Mr. St. Mark's!"

Colette laughed delightedly. 

"I thought you told me that the preacher's name was Mr. St. Marks. Yousaid mebby you could git his wash fer us. "

"No, Amarilly. I did not mean that. St. Mark's is the name of the churchwhere he officiates. He could never under any conditions be a St. Mark. "

"Wat's his name?"

"St. John, of course. And most people call him a rector, but really yourname suits him best. He does preach--sometimes--to me. "

At the end of the week Colette again sent for John--to call "on laundrybusiness"--her little note read. 

"I couldn't wait, " she said when he came, "to learn how Mrs. Jenkinspleased you. My waists were most beautifully laundered. She is certainlya Madonna of the Tubs. "

"You have indeed secured a treasure for me, Colette. The linen isimmaculate, and she shall have the laundering of it regularly. "

"I am so glad!" exclaimed Colette fervently. "They need it so much, andthey are so anxious to please. Amarilly was so apprehensive--"

John's face had become radiant. 

"It is sweet in you to be interested, Colette, and--"

"I wish you would see her, " said Colette, ignoring his commendatorywords and voice. "She's an odd little character. I invited her toluncheon the other day, and the courses and silver never disturbed herapparently. She watched me closely, however, and followed my moves asprecisely as a second oarsman. By the way, she called you St. Mark. Iknow some people consider you and St. Mark's as synonymous, but Iexplained the difference. She tells me absorbingly interesting storiesof theatre life--the life behind the scenes. You see the 'scent of theroses, ' John!"

The shadow fell again, but he made no response. 

The following Monday the young minister chanced to be in the culinaryprecincts of the rectory when Amarilly called for the laundry, none ofthe boys having been available for the service. 

An instant gleam of recognition came into his kindly eyes. 

"You must be Amarilly Jenkins. I have heard very good accounts of you--that you are industrious and a great help to your mother. "

Amarilly looked at him shrewdly. 

"_She_ told you, " she affirmed positively. 

There was but one "she" in the world of these two, and John Meredithnaturally comprehended. 

"She's orful good to us, " continued Amarilly, "and it was through her, Mr. St. John, that we got the surpluses. "

"It was, indeed, Amarilly; but my name is not St. John. It is JohnMeredith. "

"She was jest kiddin' me, then!" deduced Amarilly appreciatively. "Ithought at fust as how yer name was St. Mark, and she said you couldnever be a St. Mark, that you was St. John. She likes a joke. Mr. Reeves-Eggleston (he's playin' the part of the jilted man in the newplay this week) says it's either folks as never hez hed their troublesor them as hez hed more'n their share what laughs at everything, only, he says, it's diffrent kinds of laughs. "

The reference to the play reminded John of a duty to perform. 

"Miss King told me, Amarilly, that you want to go on the stage when yougrow up. "

"I did plan to go on, but she said when I got eddicated, I might hear ofother things to do--things I'd like better. So mebby I'll change mymind. "

A beautiful smile lightened John's dark eyes. 

"She, was right, Amarilly. There _are_ things that would be better foryou to do, and I--we--will try to help you find them. "

"Every one gits the stage fever some time, " remarked Amarillyphilosophically, "She said so. She said she had it once herself, butshe knew now that there was something she would like better. "

His smile grew softer. 

"She wouldn't tell me what it was, " continued Amarilly musingly. Then atroubled look came into her eyes. 

"Mebby I shouldn't tell you what she says. Flamingus says I talk toomuch. "

"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, nothingthat you should not repeat. I am glad, though, to see that you areconscientious. Miss King tells me you are to go to the night-school. Doyou attend Sunday-school?"

Amarilly looked apologetic. 

"Not reg'lar. Thar's a meetin'-house down near us that we go tosometimes. Flamingus and me and Gus give a nickel apiece towards gittin'a malodeyon fer it, but it squeaks orful. 'Tain't much like theorchestry to the theayter. And then the preacher he whistles every timehe says a word that has an 's' in it. You'd orter hear him say: 'Let ussing the seventy-seventh psalm. '"

At the succession of the sibilant sounds, John's brown eyes twinkledbrightly, and about his mouth came crinkly, telltale creases of humor. 

"And they sing such lonesome tunes, " continued Amarilly, "slower thanthe one the old cow died on. I was tellin' the stage maniger about it, and he said they'd orter git a man to run the meetin'-houses thatunderstood the proper settin's. Everything, he says, is more'n half inthe settin's. "

"Amarilly, " was the earnest response, "will you come to St. Mark's nextSunday to the morning service? The music will please you, I am sure, andthere are other things I should like to have you hear. "

Amarilly solemnly accepted this invitation, and then went home, trundling a big cart which contained the surplices and the rectorylaundry. 

Colette's remarks, so innocently repeated to him, made John take himselfto task. 

"I knew, " he thought rapturously, "that she was pure gold at heart. Andit is only her sweet willfulness that is hiding it from me. "

That evening he found Colette sitting before an open fire in thelibrary, her slender little feet crossed before the glowing blaze. Shewas in a gentle, musing mood, but at his entrance she instantly ralliedto her old mirth-loving spirit. 

"I have made Amarilly's acquaintance, " he said. "She is coming to churchnext Sunday. "

"A convert already! And you will try to snatch poor Amarilly, too, fromher footlight dreams?"

"Colette, " he replied firmly, "you can't play a part with me any longer. You, the real Colette, made it unnecessary for me to remonstrate withAmarilly on her choice of professions. She is wavering because of yourassurance that there are better things in life for her to engage in. "

He was not very tall, but stood straight and stalwart, with the air ofone born to command. At times he seemed to tower above all others. 

She regarded him with an admiring look which changed to wonder at whatshe read in his eyes. In a flash she felt the strength and depth of hisfeeling, but her searching scrutiny caused him to become tongue-tied, and he assumed the self-conscious mien peculiar to the man not yetassured that his love is returned. Once more a golden moment slippedaway with elfish elusiveness, and Colette, secure in her supremacy, resumed her tantalizing badinage. 

CHAPTER V

The Jenkins family was immediately summoned in council to discussAmarilly's invitation to attend divine service at St. Mark's. 

"You air jest more'n hevin' advantages, " said Mrs. Jenkins exultingly. "Fust the matinée, then the Guild, and now St. Mark's is open to you. But you'd orter hev a few fixin's to go to sech a grand place, Amarilly. "

Amarilly shook her determined little head resolutely. 

"We can't afford it, " she said decisively. "I'd stay to hum afore I'dspend anything on extrys now when we're aketchin' up and layin' by. "

"'Twould be good bookkeepin' fer you ter go, " spoke up Flamingus. "Yousee the preacher's givin' us his business, and we'd orter return thefavor and patrynize his church. You've gotter hustle to hold trade arteryou git it these days. It's up to you ter go, Amarilly. " Mrs. Jenkinslooked proudly at her eldest male offspring. 

"I declare, Flamingus, you've got a real business head on you jest likeyour pa hed. He's right, Amarilly. 'Twouldn't be treating Mr. Meredithfair not ter go, and it's due him that you go right, so he won't beashamed of you. I'll rig you up some way. "

The costuming of Amarilly in a manner befitting the great occasion wasan all-absorbing affair for the next few days. Finally, by thecombination of Mrs. Jenkins's industry and Amarilly's ingenuity, aidedby the Boarder and the boys, an elaborate toilet was devised andexecuted. Milton donated a "shine" to a pair of tan shoes, the gift ofthe girl "what took a minor part. " Mrs. Jenkins looked a little askanceat the "best skirt" of blue which had shrunk from repeated washings to anear-knee length, but Amarilly assured her that it was not as short asthe skirts worn by the ballet girls. She cut up two old blouses andfashioned a new, bi-colored waist bedizened with gilt buttons. TheBoarder presented a resplendent buckle, and Flamingus provided a gawdyhair-ribbon. 

The hat was the chief difficulty. On week days she wore none, but ofcourse St. Mark's demanded a headgear of some kind, and at last Mrs. Jenkins triumphantly produced one of Tam o' Shanter shape manufacturedfrom a lamp mat and adorned with some roses bestowed by the leadinglady. The belligerent locks of the little scrub-girl refused to respondto advances from curling iron or papers, but one of the neighbors whosehair was a second cousin in hue to Amarilly's amber tresses, loaned somefrizzes, which were sewed to the brim of the new hat. The problem ofhand covering was solved by Mr. Vedder, as a pair of orange-tintedgloves had been turned in at the box-office by an usher, and hadremained unclaimed. They proved a perfect fit, and were the supremetriumph of the bizarre costume. 

Not even Solomon in all his glory was arrayed in splendor greater thanthat displayed by Amarilly when she set forth on Sunday morning for St. Mark's. Promptness was ever Amarilly's chief characteristic, and shearrived long in advance of the ushers. This gave her an opportunity tosample several pews before finally selecting one whose usual occupants, fortunately, were out of the city. 

The vastness and stillness of the edifice, disturbed now and then bysilken rustle and soft-shod foot were bewildering to Amarilly. Sheexperienced a slight depression until the vibrating tones of the organfell softly upon the air. The harmony grew more subdued, ceased, and wassucceeded by another moment of solemn silence. Then a procession ofwhite-robed choristers came down the aisle, their well-trained voicesringing out in carolling cadence. 

"Them's the chorus, " thought Amarilly. 

Entranced, she listened to the service, sitting upright and very still. The spiritual significance of the music, the massing of foliage andflowers in the chancel, the white altars with their many lightedcandles, were very impressive to the little wide-eyed worshipper. 

"Their settin's is all right, " she said to herself critically, "and itain't like the theayter. It's--"

A sudden revealing light penetrated the shadows of her little being. 

"This is the real thing!" she acknowledged. 

There was only one disappointment to mar the perfection. She felt quiteaggrieved that Mr. Meredith--or Mr. St. John as she still called him inher thoughts--did not "come on" in the first act. 

"Mebby he don't hev the leadin' part to-day, " she thoughtdisappointedly, as a callow youth, whose hair was pompadoured and whosechin receded, began to read the lessons for the day. Amarilly was keptin action by her effort to follow the lead of the man in front of her. 

"It's hard to know jest when to set or stand or pray, but it keepsthings from draggin', " she thought, "and thar's no chanct to git sleepy. It keeps me jest on the hump without no rayhearsal fer all this sceneshiftin'. "

Her little heart quickened in glad relief when the erect form of JohnMeredith ascended the pulpit to deliver the sermon. 

"That other one was jest the understudy, " she concluded. 

The sermon, strong, simple, and sweet like John himself, was deliveredin a rich, modulated voice whose little underlying note of appeal foundentrance to many a hard-shell heart. The theology was not too deep forthe attentive little scrubber to comprehend, and she was filled with alonging to be good--very good. She made ardent resolutions not to "jaw"the boys so much, and to be more gentle with Iry and Go. Her consciencekept on prodding until she censured herself for not mopping the cornersat the theatre more thoroughly. 

At the conclusion of the sermon the rector with a slight tremor in hismellifluous voice pronounced the benediction. Amarilly's eyes shone witha light that Lord Algernon's most eloquent passages could never haveinspired. 

The organ again gave forth its rich tones, and a young, fair-haired boywith the face of a devotee arose and turned toward the congregation, hisface uplifted to the oaken rafters. A flood of sunshine streamed throughthe painted window and fell in long slanting rays upon the spiritualface. The exquisite voice rose and fell in silvery cadence, the softnotes fluting out through the vast space and reaching straight toAmarilly's heart which was beating in unison to the music. "Oh, " shethought wistfully, "if Pete Noyes was only like him!"

She responded to the offertory with a penny, which lay solitary andoutlawed on the edge of a contribution plate filled with envelopes andbank bills. The isolated coin caught the eye of the young rector as hereceived the offerings, and his gaze wandered wonderingly over hisfashionable congregation. It finally rested upon the small, eager-eyedface of his washerwoman's daughter, and a look of angelic sweetness cameinto his brown eyes with the thought: "Even the least of these!"

Colette, statuesque and sublime, caught the flash of radiance thatillumined the face of her pastor, and her heart-strings responded with alittle thrill. 

There was another fervent prayer in low, pleading tones, after whichfollowed the recessional, the choir-boys chanting their solemn measures. 

Amarilly in passing out saw John, clad in a long, tight-fitting blackgarment, standing at the church door. 

"He's got another costume fer the afterpiece, " she thought admiringly. "He must be a lightning change artist like the one down to the vawdyveelthat Pete was tellin' of!"

Then two wonderful, heart-throbbing things happened. John tookAmarilly's saffron-clad hand in his and told her in earnest, convincingtones how glad he was that she had come, and that he should look for herevery Sunday. 

"He held up the hull p'rade fer me!" she thought exultingly. 

As he was speaking to her his gaze wandered away for a second; in thatinfinitesimal space of time there came into his eyes a dazzling flash oflight that was like a revelation to the sharp-eyed little girl, who, following the direction of his glance, beheld Colette. Then came thesecond triumph. Colette, smiling, shook hands with her and praised herattire. 

"Did you like the service, Amarilly?" she whispered. "Was it like thetheatre?"

"It was diffrent, " said Amarilly impressively. "I think it's what heavenis!"

"And did you like the sermon St. John preached?"

Amarilly's lips quivered. 

"I liked it so much, I liked him so much, I'd ruther not talk about it. "

Colette stooped and kissed the freckled little face, to the utterastonishment of those standing near and to the complete felicity of JohnMeredith, who was a witness of the little scene though he did not hearthe conversation. 

Amarilly walked homeward, her uplifted face radiant with happiness. 

"The flowers, the lights, oh, it was great!" she thought. "Bud couldsing like that if he was learnt. He couldn't look like that surplusedboy, though. He sorter made me think of Little Eva in the play they givedown to Milt's school. I wish Bud's hair was yaller and curly instead ofblack and straight!"

Amarilly's reminiscences next carried her to the look she had seen inthe rector's eyes when he beheld Colette coming out of the church. 

"It was the look Lord Algernon tried to give Lady Cecul, " she thought, "only he couldn't do it, 'cause it wasn't in Him to give. And itcouldn't never be in him the same as 't is in Mr. St. John and MissKing. It ain't in her yet to see what was in his eyes. Some day when shegits more feelin's, mebby 't will be, though. "

When Amarilly had faithfully pictured the service to the household, Bud's anaemic face grew eager. 

"Take me with yer, Amarilly, next time, won't yer?" he pleaded. 

"It's too fer. You couldn't walk, Buddy, " she answered, "and we can'tafford car-fare fer two both ways. "

"I'll take him to-night, " promised the Boarder. "We'll ride both ways, so fur as we kin. I'd like to hear a sermon now and then, especially bya young preacher. "

The little family stayed up that night until the return of Bud and theBoarder who were vociferous in approval of the service. 

"It ain't much like our meetin'-house, " said Bud. "It was het and lit. And the way that orgin let out! Say, Amarilly, thar wasn't no man insight to play it! I s'pose they've got one of them things like apianner-player. Them surplused boys sung fine!"

"He give us a fine talk, " reported the Boarder. "I've allers thought ifa man paid a hundred cents on the dollar, 't was all that was expectedof him. But I believe it's a good idee to go to church and keep yourconscience jogged up so it won't rust. I'll go every Sunday, mebby, andtake Bud so he kin larn them tunes. "

"I never go to no shows nor nuthin'!" wailed Cory. 

"I'll take you next time, " soothed Amarilly. "I kin work you'se off onthe kinductor as under age, I guess, if you'll crouch down. "

CHAPTER VI

Monday's mops and pails broke in upon the spell of Amarilly's spiritualenchantment to some extent, but remembrance of the scenic effectslingered and was refreshed by the clothes-line of vestal garb whichmanifested the family prosperity, and heralded to the neighborhood thatthe Jenkins's star was in the ascendant. 

"Them Jenkinses, " said Mrs. Hudgers, who lived next door, "is orfulstuck up sence they got the sudsin' of them surpluses. "

This animadversion was soon conveyed to Amarilly, who instantly andfreely forgave the critic. 

"She's old and rheumatic, " argued the little girl. "She can't git to gonowhars, and folks that is shut in too long spiles, jest like cannedgoods. Besides, her clock has stopped. Nobody can't go on without noclock. "

Out of pity for the old woman's sequestered life, Amarilly was wont torelate to her all the current events, and it was through the child'skeen, young optics that Mrs. Hudgers saw life. An eloquent and vividdescription of St. Mark's service was eagerly related. 

"I allers thought I'd like to see them Episcopals, " she remarkedregretfully. "Ef church air wa'n't so bad fer my rheumatiz, I'd paycar-fare jest to see it onct. I was brung up Methodist though. "

This desire suggested to Amarilly's fertile little brain a way to make acontribution to John Meredith's pet missionary scheme, whose merits hehad so ardently expounded from the pulpit. 

"I'll hev a sacrud concert like the one he said they was goin' to hev tothe church, " she decided. 

She was fully aware of the sensation created by the Thursday clothes-lineof surplices, and she resolved to profit thereby while the garmentswere still a novelty. Consequently the neighborhood was notified that asacred concert by a "surplused choir" composed of members of the Jenkinshousehold, assisted by a few of their schoolmates, would be given a weekfrom Wednesday night. This particular night was chosen for the reasonthat the church washing was put to soak late on a Wednesday. 

There was a short, sharp conflict in Amarilly's conscience before sheconvinced herself it would not be wrong to allow the impromptu choir todon the surplices of St. Mark's. 

"They wouldn't spile 'em jest awearin' 'em onct, " she argued sharply, for Amarilly always "sassed back" with spirit to her moral accuser. "'Tain't as if they wa'n't agoin' into the wash as soon as they take 'emoff. Besides, " as a triumphant clincher, "think of the cause!"

Amarilly had heard the Boarder and a young socialist exchanging views, and she had caught this slogan, which was a tempting phrase and adequateto whitewash many a doubtful act. It proved effectual in silencing theconscience which Amarilly slipped back into its case and fastenedsecurely. 

She held nightly rehearsals for the proposed entertainment. After thefirst the novelty was exhausted, and on the next night there was afalling off in attendance, so the young, director diplomaticallyresorted to the use of decoy ducks in the shape of a pan of popcorn, acandy pull, and an apple roast. By such inducements she whipped herchorus into line, ably assisted by Bud, who had profited by hisattendance at St. Mark's. 

The Jenkins dwelling was singularly well adapted for a publicperformance, as, to use Mrs. Wint's phraseology, "it had no insides. "The rooms were partitioned off by means of curtains on strings. Thesewere taken down on the night of the concert. So the "settin'-room, " the"bedroom off" and the kitchen became one. Seats were improvised by meansof boards stretched across inverted washtubs. 

At seven o'clock on the night set for the concert the audience wassolemnly ushered in by the Boarder. No signs of the performers werevisible, but sounds of suppressed excitement issued from the woodshed, which had been converted into a vestry. 

Presently the choir, chanting a hymn, made an impressive and effectiveentrance. To Amarilly's consternation this evoked an applause, whichjarred on her sense of propriety. 

"This ain't no show, and it ain't no time to clap, " she explained to theBoarder, who cautioned the congregation against further demonstration. 

Flamingus read a psalm in a sing-song, resonant voice, and then Amarillyannounced a hymn, cordially inviting the neighbors to "jine in. " Theresponse was lusty-lunged, and there was a unanimous request for anothertune. After Amarilly had explained the use to which the collection wasto be put, Gus passed a pie tin, while an offertory solo was rendered byBud in sweet, trebled tones. 

The sacred concert was pronounced a great success by the audience, whopromptly dispersed at its close. While the Boarder was shifting thecurtains to their former positions, and Mrs. Jenkins and Amarilly werebusily engaged in divesting the choir of their costumes, the front dooropened and disclosed a vision of loveliness in the form of Colette. 

"I knocked, " she explained apologetically to the Boarder, "but no oneheard me. Are the family all away?"

"They are in the woodshed. Walk right out, " he urged hospitably. 

Colette stepped to the door and, on opening it, gazed in bewilderment atthe disrobing choir. 

"These are not St. Mark's choir-boys, are they?" she asked wonderingly. 

Mrs. Jenkins felt herself growing weak-kneed. She looked apprehensivelyat Amarilly, who stepped bravely to the front with the air of one whofeels that the end justifies the means. 

"It was fer him--fer Mr. St. John I done it, " she began in explanation, and then she proceeded to relate the particulars of her scheme and itsaccomplishment. 

She had but just finished this narrative when suddenly in the line ofher vision came the form of the young rector himself. He had beenushered out by the Boarder, who was still actively engaged in "reddingup. "

"I came to call upon you, for I consider you one of my parishionersnow, " he said to Amarilly, his face flushing at the unexpected encounterwith Colette. 

Amarilly breathed a devout prayer of thankfulness that the last surplicehad been removed and was now being put to soak by her mother. 

Colette's eyes were dancing with the delight of mischief-making as shedirected, in soft but mirthful tones:

"Tell Mr. St. John about your choir and concert. "

Amarilly's eyes lowered in consternation. She was in great awe of thisyoung man whose square chin was in such extreme contradiction to hissoftly luminous eyes, and she began to feel less fortified by thereminder of the "cause. "

"I'd ruther not, " she faltered. 

"Then don't, Amarilly, " he said gently. 

"Mebby that's why I'd orter, " she acknowledged, lifting serious eyes tohis. "You said that Sunday that we wa'n't to turn out of the way ferhard things. "

"I don't want it to be hard for you to tell me anything, Amarilly, " hesaid reassuringly. "Suppose you show me that you trust me by telling meabout your concert. "

So once more Amarilly gave a recital of her plan for raising money forthe mission, and of its successful fulfilment. John listened withvarying emotions, struggling heroically to maintain his gravity as heheard of the realization of the long-cherished, long-deferred dream ofMrs. Hudgers. 

"And we took in thirty-seven cents, " she said in breathless excitement, as she handed him the contents of the pie tin. 

"Amarilly, " he replied fervently, with the look that Colette waslearning to love, "you did just right to use the surplices, and thiscontribution means more to me than any I have received. It was a sweetand generous thought that prompted your concert. "

Amarilly's little heart glowed with pride at this acknowledgment. 

At that moment came Bud, singing a snatch of his solo. 

"Is this the little brother that sang the offertory?"

"Yes; that's him--Bud. "

"Bud, will you sing it again for me, now?"

"Sure thing!" said the atom of a boy, promptly mounting a soap box. 

He threw back a mop of thick black hair, rolled his eyes ceilingward, and let his sweet, clear voice have full sway. 

"Oh, Bud, you darling! Why didn't you tell me he could sing like that, Amarilly?" cried Colette at the close of the song. 

"We must have him in St. Mark's choir, " declared Mr. Meredith. "You maybring him to the rectory to-morrow, Amarilly, and I will have thechoirmaster try his voice. Besides receiving instruction and practiceevery week, he will be paid for his singing. "

Money for Bud's voice! So much prosperity was scarcely believable. 

"Fust the Guild school, Miss King's washing, the surpluses, and nowBud!" thought Amarilly exuberantly. "Next thing I know, I'll be on thestage. "

"I must go, " said Colette presently. "My car is just around the corneron the next street. John, will you ride uptown with me?"

He accepted the invitation with alacrity. Colette's sidelong glancenoted a certain masterful look about his chin, and there was a warning, metallic ring in his voice that denoted a determination to overcome allobstacles and triumph by sheer force of will. She was not ready tolisten to him yet, and, a ready evader of issues, chatted incessantly onthe way to the car. He waited in grim patience, biding his time. As theyneared the turn in the alley, she played her reserve card. 

"Henry didn't think it prudent to bring the big car into the Jenkins's_cul-de-sac, _ so he waited in the next street. I expect father will bethere by this time. We dropped him at a factory near by, where he was tospeak to some United Workmen. "

Colette smiled at the drooping of John's features as he beheld herfather ensconced in the tonneau. 

"Oh, John! I am glad you were here to protect my little girl throughthese byways. I was just on the point of looking her up myself. "

When the car stopped at the rectory and Colette bade John good-night, the resolute, forward thrust was still prominent in his chin. 

He went straight to his study and wrote an ardent avowal of his love. Then he sealed the letter and dispatched it by special messenger. Therewould be no more suspense, he thought, for she would have to respond bya direct affirmation or negation. 

CHAPTER VII

In the tide of the Jenkins's prosperity there came the inevitable ebb. On the fateful Friday morning succeeding the concert, Mrs. Hudgers, looking from her window, saw a little group of children with books undertheir arms returning from school. Having no timepiece, she wasaccustomed to depend on the passing to and fro of the children forguidance as to the performance of her household affairs. 

"My sakes, but twelve o'clock come quick to-day, " she thought, as shekindled the fire and set the kettle over it in preparation of her middaymeal. 

A neighbor dropping in viewed these proceedings with surprise. 

"Why, Mrs. Hudgers, ain't you et yer breakfast yet?"

"Of course I hev. I'm puttin' the kittle over fer my dinner. "

"Dinner! why, it's only a half arter nine. "

Mrs. Hudgers looked incredulous. 

"I seen the chillern agoin' hum from school, " she maintained. 

"Them was the Jenkinses, Iry hez come down with the scarlit fever, andthey're all in quarrytine. "

"How you talk! Wait till I put the kittle offen the bile. "

The two neighbors sat down to discuss this affliction with the readysympathy of the poor for the poor. Their passing envy of the Jenkins'sgood fortune was instantly skimmed from the surface of theirfriendliness, which had only lain dormant and wanted but the touch oftrouble to make them once more akin. 

When the city physician had pronounced Iry's "spell" to be scarletfever, the other members of the household were immediately summoned byemergency calls. The children came from school, Amarilly from thetheatre, and the Boarder from his switch to hold an excited familyconference. 

"It's a good thing we got the washin's all hum afore Iry was took, "declared the optimistic Amarilly. 

"Thar's two things here yet, " reported Mrs. Jenkins. "Gus come hum toolate last night to take the preacher's surplus and Miss King's lacewaist. You was so tired I didn't tell you, 'cause I know'd you'd be soton goin' with them yourself. They're all did up. "

"Well, they'll hev to stay right here with us and the fever, " saidAmarilly philosophically. 

At heart she secretly rejoiced in the retaining of these two garments, for they seemed to keep her in touch with their owners whom she would beunable to see until Iry had recovered. 

"I don't see what we are going to do, Amarilly, " said her motherdespairingly. "Thar'll be nuthin' comin' in and so many extrys. "

"No extrys, " cheerfully assured the little comforter. "The citydoctor'll take keer of Iry and bring the medicines. We hev laid by somesence we got the church wash. It'll tide us over till Iry gits well. Weall need a vacation from work, anyhow. "

At the beginning of the next week a ten-dollar bill came from Colette, "to buy jellies and things for Iry, " she wrote. A similar contributioncame from John Meredith. 

"We air on Easy Street onct more!" cried Amarilly joyfully. 

"I hate to take the money from them, " sighed Mrs. Jenkins. 

"We'll make it up to them when we kin work agin, " consoled Amarilly. "Better to take from friends than from the city. It won't be fer long. Iry seems to hev took it light, the doctor said. "

This diagnosis proved correct, but it had not occurred to Amarilly inher prognostications that the question of the duration of the quarantinewas not entirely dependent upon Iry's convalescence. Like a row ofblocks the children, with the exception of Flamingus and Amarilly, inrapid succession came down with a mild form of the fever. Mrs. Jenkinsand Amarilly divided the labors of cook and nurse, but the mainstay ofthe family was the Boarder. He aided in the housework, and as anentertainer of the sick he proved invaluable. He told stories, drewpictures, propounded riddles, whittled boats and animals, played "Beggarmy Neighbor, " and sang songs for the convalescent ward. 

When the last cent of the Jenkins's reserve fund and the contributionsfrom the rector and Colette had been exhausted, the Boarder put awilling hand in his pocket and drew forth his all to share with theafflicted family. There was one appalling night when the treasury wasentirely depleted, and the larder was a veritable Mother Hubbard'scupboard. 

"Something will come, " prophesied Amarilly trustfully. 

Something did come the next day in the shape of a donation of fivedollars from Mr. Vedder, who had heard of the prolonged quarantine. Amarilly wept from gratitude and gladness. 

"The perfesshun allers stand by each other, " she murmured proudly. 

This last act of charity kept the Jenkins's pot boiling until thepremises were officially and thoroughly fumigated. Again faminethreatened. The switch remained open to the Boarder, and he was oncemore on duty, but he had as yet drawn no wages, one morning there wasnothing for breakfast. 

"I'll pawn my ticker at noon, " promised the Boarder, "and bring homesomething for dinner. "

"There is lots of folks as goes without breakfast allers, from choice, "informed Amarilly. "Miss Vail, the teacher at the Guild, says it'shygeniack. "

"It won't hurt us and the boys, " said Mrs. Jenkins, "but Iry and Co istoo young to go hungry even if it be hygeniack. "

"They ain't agoin' hungry, " declared Amarilly. "I'll pervide fer them. "

With a small pitcher under her cape she started bravely forth on aforaging expedition. After walking a few blocks she came to a whitehouse whose woodhouse joined the alley. Hiding behind a barrel shewatched and waited until a woman opened the back door and set a soupplate of milk on the lowest step. 

"Come a kits! Come a kits!" she called shrilly, and then went back intothe house. 

The "kits" came on the run; so did Amarilly. She arrived first, andhastily emptied the contents of the soup plate into her pitcher. Thenshe fled, leaving two dismayed maltese kittens disconsolately lapping anempty dish. 

"Here's milk for Iry, " she announced, handing the pitcher to her mother. "Now I'll go and get some breakfast for Co. "

She returned presently with a sugared doughnut. 

"Where did you borry the milk and nut-cake?" asked her motherwonderingly. 

"I didn't borry them, " replied Amarilly stoically. "I stole them. "

"Stole them! Am-a-ril-ly Jenk-ins!"

"Twan't exackly stealin', " argued Amarilly cheerfully. "I took the milkfrom two little cats what git stuffed with milk every morning and night. The doughnut had jest been stuck in a parrot's cage. He hedn't tetchedit. My! he swore fierce! I'd ruther steal, anyway, than let Iry and Cogo hungry. "

"What would the preacher say!" demanded her mother solemnly. "He wouldsay it was wrong. "

"He don't know nothin' about bein' hungry!" replied Amarilly defiantly. "If he was ever as hungry as Iry, I bet he'd steal from a cat. "

The season was now summer. Some time ago John Meredith had gone to theseashore and the King family to their summer home in the mountains, unaware that the fever had spread over so wide an area in the Jenkinsdomain. The theatre and St. Mark's were closed for the rest of thesummer. The little boys found that their positions had been filledduring the period of quarantine. None of these catastrophes, however, could be compared to the calamity of the realization that Bud alone ofall the patients had not convalesced completely. He was a delicatelittle fellow, and he grew paler and thinner each day. In desperationAmarilly went to the doctor. 

"Bud don't pick up, " she said bluntly. 

"I feared he wouldn't, " replied the doctor. 

"Can't you try some other kinds of medicines?"

"I can, but I am afraid that there is no medicine that will help himvery much. "

Amarilly turned pale. 

"Is there anything else that will help him?" she demanded fiercely. 

"If he could go to the seashore he might brace up. Sea air would workwonders for him. "

"He shall go, " said Amarilly with determination. 

"I can get a week for him through the Fresh Air Fund, " suggested thedoctor. 

He succeeded in getting two weeks, and, that time was extended anotherfortnight through the benevolence of Mr. Vedder. 

Bud returned a study in reds and browns. 

"The sea beats the theayter and the church all to smitherines, Amarilly!" he declared jubilantly. "I kin go to work now. "

"No!" said Amarilly resolutely. "You air goin' to loaf through this hotweather until church and school open. "

The family fund once more had a modest start. Mrs. Jenkins obtained afew of her old customers, Bobby got a paper route, Flamingus and Miltonwere again at work, but Amarilly, Gus, and Cory were without vocations. 

Soon after the quarantine was lifted Amarilly went forth to deliver thesurplice and the waist which had hung familiarly side by side during theweeks of trouble. The housekeeper at the rectory greeted her kindly andwas most sympathetic on learning of the protracted confinement. She madeAmarilly a present of the surplice. 

"Mr. Meredith said you were to keep it. He thought your mother mightfind it useful. It is good linen, you know, and you can cut it up intoclothes for the children. He has so many surplices, he won't miss thisone. "

"I'll never cut it up!" thought Amarilly as she reverently received therobe. "I'll keep it in 'membrance of him. "

"It's orful good in him to give it to us, " she said gratefully to thehousekeeper. 

That worthy woman smiled, remembering how the fastidious young rectorhad shrunk from the thought of wearing a fumigated garment. 

At the King residence Amarilly saw the caretaker, who gave her a similarmessage regarding the lace waist. 

"I'll keep it, " thought Amarilly with a shy little blush, "until I'mmerried. It'll start my trousseau. "

She took the garments home, not mentioning to anyone the gift of thewaist, however, for that was to be her secret--her first secret. She hidthis nest-egg of her trousseau in an old trunk which she fastenedsecurely. 

On the next day she was summoned to help clean the theatre, which hadbeen rented for one night by the St. Andrew's vested choir, whosemembers were to give a sacred concert. A rehearsal for thisentertainment was being held when Amarilly arrived. 

"These surplices are all too long or too short for me, " complained theyoung tenor, who had recently been engaged for the solo parts. 

Amarilly surveyed him critically. 

"He's jest about Mr. St. John's size, " she mused, "only he ain't so finea shape. "

With the thought came an inspiration that brought a quickly wagedbattle. It seemed sacrilegious, although she didn't express it by thatword, to permit another to wear a garment so sacred to the memory of Mr. Meredith, but poverty, that kill-sentiment, had fully developed thepractical side of Amarilly. 

She made answer to her stabs of conscience by action instead of words, going straight to her friend, the ticket-seller. 

"That feller, " she said, indicating the tenor, "ain't satisfied with thefit of his surplus. I've got one jest his size. It's done up spick andspan clean, and I'll rent it to him fer the show. He kin hev it fer theev'nin' fer a dollar. Would you ask him fer me?"

"Certainly, Amarilly, " he agreed. 

He came back to her, smiling. 

"He'll take it, but he seems to think your charge rather high--more thanthat of most costumers, he said. "

"This ain't no common surplus, " defended Amarilly loftily. "It was woreby the rector of St. Mark's, and he give it to me. It's of finer stuffthan the choir surpluses, and it hez got a cross worked onto it, and apocket in it, too. "

"Of course such inducements should increase the value, " confirmed Mr. Vedder gravely, and he proceeded to hold another colloquy with thetwinkling-eyed tenor. Amarilly went home for the surplice and receivedtherefor the sum of one dollar, which swelled the Jenkins's purseperceptibly. 

And here began the mundane career of the minister's surplice. 

CHAPTER VIII

Ever apt in following a lead, Amarilly at once resolved to establish aregular costuming business. It even occurred to her to hire out the lacewaist, but thoughts of wedding bells prevailed against her impulse toopen this branch of the business. 

When the young tenor returned the surplice he informed Amarilly that twoyoung ladies of his acquaintance were going to give a home entertainmentfor charity. Among the impromptu acts would be some tableaux, and thesurplice was needed for a church scene. So the new venture brought inanother dollar that week. 

One day Bud came home capless, having crossed a bridge in a high wind. 

"I seen an ad, " said the thrifty Flamingus, "that the Beehive would giveaway baseball caps to-day. "

Amarilly immediately set out for the Beehive, an emporium of fashion inthe vicinity of the theatre. It was the noon hour, and there were noother customers in evidence. 

The proprietor and a clerk were engaged in discussing the design for awindow display, and were loath to notice their would-be beneficiary. Finally the clerk drawled out:

"Did you want anything, little girl?"

"I called, " explained Amarilly with grandiose manner, "to git one ofthem caps you advertised to give away. "

"Oh, those were all given out long ago. You should have come earlier, "he replied with an air of relief, as he turned to resume theall-absorbing topic with the proprietor. 

Amarilly's interest in the window display dispelled any disappointmentshe might have had in regard to Bud's head covering. 

"Now, " said the clerk didactically, "my idea is this. Have a wedding--achurch wedding. I can rig up an altar, and we'll have the bride in awhite, trailing gown; the groom, best man, and ushers in dress suits toadvertise our gents' department, the bridesmaids and relatives indifferent colored evening dresses, and in this way we can announce ourbig clearing sale of summer goods in the ready-to-wear department. It'llmake a swell window and draw crowds. Women can never get by a wedding. "

"That's a dandy idea, Ben, " approved the proprietor. 

"Oh, I am a winner on ideas, " vaunted the clerk chestily. 

So was Amarilly. She stepped eagerly up to the window designer. 

"Do you keep surpluses?"

"No; don't know what they are, " replied the clerk shortly, turning fromher. "We'll get a wreath of orange flowers for the bride, and then wecan have a child carrying the ring, so as to call attention to ourchildren's department. "

"A surplus, " explained Amarilly, scornful of such avowed ignorance, "isthe white gown that Episcopal ministers wear. "

"No; we don't keep them, " was the impatient rejoinder. 

"Well, I hev one, " she said, addressing the proprietor this time, "areal minister's, and I'll rent it to you to put on your figger of theminister in your wedding window. He'll hev to wear one. "

"I am not an Episcopalian, " said the proprietor hesitatingly. "What doyou think, Ben?"

"Well, it hadn't occurred to me to have an Episcopal wedding, but Idon't know but what it would work out well, after all. It would make itattract notice more, and women are always daffy over Episcopal weddings. They like classy things. We could put a card in the window, saying allthe clergy bought the linen for their surplices here. How, " turning toAmarilly, "did you happen to have such an article?"

"We do the washin' fer St. Mark's church, and the minister give us oneof his surpluses. "

"The display will be in for six days. What will you rent it for thatlong?"

"I allers git a dollar a night fer it, " replied Amarilly. 

"Too much!" declared the clerk. "I'll give you fifty cents a day. "

"I'll let it go six days fer four dollars, " bargained Amarilly. 

"Well, seeing you have come down on your offer, I'll come up a little onmine. I'll take it for three-fifty. "

Amarilly considered. 

"I will, if you'll throw in one of them caps fer my brother. "

"All right, " laughed the proprietor. "I think we'll call it a bargain. See if you can't dig up one of those caps for her, Ben. "

Without much difficulty Ben produced a cap, and Amarilly hurried homefor the surplice. She went down to the Beehive every day during thewedding-window week and feasted her eyes on the beloved gown. She tookall the glory of the success of the display to her own credit, and herfeelings were very much like those of the writer of a play on a firstnight. 

From a wedding to a funeral was the natural evolution of a surplice, butthis time it did not appear in its customary rôle. Instead of adorning aminister, it clad the corpse. Mrs. Hudgers's only son, a scalawag, whohad been a constant drain on his mother's small stipend, was taken illand died, to the discreetly disguised relief of the neighborhood. 

"I'm agoin' to give Hallie a good funeral, " Mrs. Hudgers confided toAmarilly. "I'm agoin' to hev hacks and flowers and singin' If yer St. Mark's man was to hum now, I should like to have him fishyate. "

"Who will you git?" asked Amarilly interestedly. 

"I'll hev the preacher from the meetin'-house on the hill, BrotherLonggrass. "

"I wonder, " speculated Amarilly, "if he'd like to wear the surplus?"

Foremost as the plumes of Henry of Navarre in battle were the surpliceand the renting thereof in Amarilly's vision. 

"I don't expect he could do that, " replied Mrs. Hudgers doubtfully. "Hischurch most likely wouldn't stand fer it. Brother Longgrass is real kindif he ain't my sort. He's agoin' to let the boys run the maylodeun downhere the night afore the funyral. "

"Who's agoin' to sing?"

"I dunno yit. I left it to the preacher. He said he'd git me a pickedchoir, whatever that may be. "

"My! But you'll hev a fine funeral!" exclaimed Amarilly admiringly. 

"I allers did say that when Hallie got merried, or died, things shouldbe done right. Thar's jest one thing I can't hev. "

"What's that, Mrs. Hudgers?"

"Why, you see, Amarilly, Hallie's clo'es air sort of shabby-like, andwhen we git him in that shiny new caskit, they air agoin' to show uporful seedy. But I can't afford ter buy him a new suit jest for thisonct. "

"Couldn't you rent a suit?" asked Amarilly, her ruling passion forbusiness still dominating. 

"No; I jest can't, Amarilly. It's costin' me too much now. "

"I know it is, " sympathized Amarilly, concentrating her mind on thepuzzling solution of Hallie's habiliment. 

"Mrs. Hudgers, " she exclaimed suddenly, "why can't you put the surpluson Hallie? You kin slip it on over his suit, and when the funeral'sover, and they hev all looked at the corpse, you kin take it offen him. "

"Oh, that would be sweet!" cried Mrs. Hudgers, brightening perceptibly. "Hallie would look beautiful in it, and 'twould be diffrent from any oneelse's funeral. How you allers think of things, Amarilly! But I ain'tgot no dollar to pay you fer it. "

"If you did hev one, " replied Amarilly Indignantly, "I shouldn't let youpay fer it. We're neighbors, and what I kin do fer Hallie I want terdo. "

"Well, Amarilly, it's certainly fine fer you to feel that way. You don'tthink, " she added with sudden apprehension, "that they'd think thesurplus was Hallie's nightshirt, do you?"

"Oh, no!" protested Amarilly, shocked at such a supposition. "Besides, you kin tell them all that Hallie's laid out in a surplus. They all seenthem to the concert. "

The funeral passed off with great éclat. The picked choir had resonantvoices, and Brother Longgrass preached one of his longest sermons, considerately omitting reference to any of the characteristics of thedeceased. Mrs. Hudgers was suitably attired in donated and dusty black. The extremely unconventional garb of Hallie caused some little comment, but it was commonly supposed to be a part of the Episcopalian spiritwhich the Jenkinses seemed to be inculcating in the neighborhood. Brother Longgrass was a little startled upon beholding the white-robedcorpse, but perceiving what comfort it brought to the afflicted mother, he magnanimously forbore to allude to the matter. 

After the remains had been viewed for the last time, the surplice wasremoved. In the evening Amarilly called for it. 

"He did look handsome in it, " commented Mrs. Hudgers with a satisfied, reminiscent smile. "I wish I might of hed his likeness took. I'm agoin'to make you take hum this pan of fried cakes Mrs. Holdock fetched in. They'll help fill up the chillern. "

"I don't want to rob you, Mrs. Hudgers, " said Amarilly, gazing longinglyat the doughnuts, which were classed as luxuries in the Jenkins's menu. 

"I dassent eat 'em, Amarilly. If I et jest one, I'd hev dyspepsy orful, and folks hez brung in enough stuff to kill me now. It does beat all theway they bring vittles to a house of mournin'! I only wish Hallie couldhev some of 'em. "

CHAPTER IX

The surplice, carefully laundered after the funeral, was ready for newfields of labor. The tenor, first patron of Amarilly's costumingestablishment, was wont to loiter in the studio of an artist he knew andrelate his about-town adventures. This artist was interested in theannals of the little scrub-girl and her means of livelihood. 

"I have in mind, " he said musingly, "a picture of a musician, the lightto be streaming through a stained window on his uplifted head as he sitsat an organ. "

"The Lost Chord?" inquired the tenor. 

"Nothing quite so bromidic as that, " laughed the artist. "I have mymodel engaged, and I had intended to have you borrow a surplice for me, but you may ask your little customer to rent me her gown for a couple ofdays. "

On receipt of this request delivered through the medium of the ticket-seller, Amarilly promptly appeared at the studio. She was gravely andcourteously received by the artist, Derry Phillips, an easy-manneredyouth, slim and supple, with dark, laughing eyes. When they hadtransacted the business pertaining to the rental of the surplice, Amarilly arose from her chair with apparent reluctance. This was a newatmosphere, and she was fascinated by the pictures and the general airof artistic disarrangement which she felt but could not account for. 

"'Tain't exactly the kind of place to tidy, " she reflected, "but itneeds cleaning turrible. "

"Do you like pictures?" asked the young artist, following her gaze. "Stay a while and look at them, if you wish. "

Amarilly readily availed herself of this permission, and rummaged aboutthe rooms while Derry pursued his work. Upon the completion of her tourof inspection, he noticed a decided look of disapproval upon her face. 

"What is the matter, Miss Jenkins? Aren't the pictures true to life?" heinquired with feigned anxiety. 

"The picters is all right, " replied Amarilly, "but--"

"But what?" he urged expectantly. 

"Your rooms need reddin' up. Thar's an orful lot of dust. Yer thingswill spile. "

"Oh, dust, you know, to the artistic temperament, is merely a littlemisplaced matter. "

"'Tain't only misplaced. It's stuck tight, " contended Amarilly. 

"Dear me! And to think that I was contemplating a studio tea to somepeople day after to-morrow, I suppose it really should be 'red up'again. Honestly though, I engage a woman who come every week and cleanthe rooms. "

"She's imposed on you, " said Amarilly indignantly. "She's swept the dirtup agin the mopboards and left it thar, and she hez only jest skimmedover things with a dust-cloth. It ain't done thorough. "

"And are you quite proficient as a _blanchisseuse?"_

Amarilly looked at him unperturbed. 

"I kin scrub, " she remarked calmly. 

"I stand rebuked. Scrubbing is what they need. If you will cometo-morrow morning and put these rooms in order, I will give you a dollarand your midday meal. "

Amarilly, well satisfied with her new opening, closed the bargaininstantly. 

The next morning at seven o'clock she rang the studio bell. The artist, attired in a bathrobe and rubbing his eyes sleepily, opened the door. 

"This was the day I was to clean, " reminded Amarilly reprovingly. 

"To be sure. But why so early? I thought you were a telegram. "

"Early! It's seven o'clock. "

"I still claim it's early. I have only been in bed four hours. "

"Well, you kin go back to bed. I'll work orful quiet. "

"And I can trust you not to touch any of the pictures or move anything?"

"I'll be keerful, " Amarilly assured him. "Jest show me whar to het upthe water. I brung the soap and a brush. "

The artist lighted a gas stove, and, after carefully donning a long-sleeved apron, Amarilly put the water on and began operations. Her eyesshone with anticipation as she looked about her. 

"I'm glad it's so dirty, " she remarked. "It's more interestin' to cleana dirty place. Then what you do shows up, and you feel you earnt yourmoney. "

With a laugh the artist returned to his bedroom, whence he emerged threehours later. 

"This room is all cleaned, " announced Amarilly. "It took me so long'cause it's so orful big and then 'twas so turrible dirty. "

"You must have worked like a little Trojan. Now stop a bit while Iprepare my breakfast. "

"Kin you cook?" asked Amarilly in astonishment. 

"I can make coffee and poach eggs. Come into my butler's pantry andwatch me. "

Amarilly followed him into a small apartment and was initiated into themysteries of electric toasters and percolators. 

He tried in vain to induce her to share his meal with him, but sheprotested. 

"I hed my breakfast at five-thirty. I don't eat agin till noon. "

"Oh, Miss Jenkins! You have no artistic temperament or you would notcling to ironclad rules. "

"My name's Amarilly, " she answered shortly. "I ain't old enough to be'missed' yet. "

"I beg your pardon, Amarilly. You seem any age, " he replied, sittingdown to his breakfast, "You are not too old, then, for me to ask whatyour age is--in years?"

"I jest got into my teens. "

"Thirteen. And I am ten years older. When is your birthday?"

"It's ben. It was the fust of June. "

"Why, Amarilly, " jumping up and holding out his hand, "we are twins!That is my birthday. "

"And you are twenty-three. "

"Right you are. That is my age at the present moment. Last night I wasfar older, and to-morrow, mayhap, I'll be years younger. "

"Be you a Christian Science?" she asked doubtfully. 

"Lord, no, child! I am an artist. What made you ask that?"

"'Cause they don't believe in age. Miss Jupperskin told me about 'em. She's workin' up to it. But I must go back to my work. "

"So must I, Amarilly. My model will be here in a few moments to don yoursurplice. If you want to clean up my breakfast dishes you may do so, andthen tackle the bedroom and the rest of the apartment. "

Three hours later, Amarilly went into the studio. The model had gone, and the artist stood before his easel surveying his sketch withapproval. 

"This is going to be a good picture, Amarilly. The model caught my idea. There is some fore--"

"Mr. Phillips!"

"My name is Derry. I am too young to be 'mistered. '"

There was no response, and with a smile he turned inquiringly towardher. There was a wan little droop about the corners of her eyes and lipsthat brought contrition to his boyish heart. 

"Amarilly you are tired! You have worked too steadily. Sit down and restawhile. "

"'Tain't that! I'm hungry. Kin I het up the coffee and--"

"Good gracious, Amarilly! I forgot you ate at regular, stated intervals. We will go right out now to a nice little restaurant near by and eat ourluncheon together. "

Amarilly flushed. 

"Thank you, Mr. Derry. That's orful nice in you, but I'd ruther eathere. Thar's the toast and coffee to het, and an aig--"

"No! You are going to have a good, square meal and eat it with me. Yousee I had to eat my birthday dinner all alone, so we'll celebrate thefirst of June now, together. Slip off your apron. By the way, some day Ishall paint a picture of you in that apron scrubbing my 'mopboard. '"

Amarilly shook her head. 

"I don't look fit to go nowhars with you, Mr. Derry. "

"Vanitas, and the rest of it! Oh, Amarilly, only thirteen, and theruling passion of your sex already in full sway!"

"It's on your account that I'm ashamed, " she said in defence of hisaccusation. "I'd want ter look nice fer you. "

"That's sweet of you, Amarilly; but if you really want to look nice, don't think of your clothes. It's other things. Think of your hair, forinstance. It's your best point, and yet you hide it under a bushel and, worse than that, you braid it so tight I verily believe it's wired. "

"I'm used to bein' teased about my red head, " she replied. "I don'tkeer. "

"It's a glorious red, Amarilly. The color the vulgar jeer at, andartists like your friend and twin, Derry, rave over. You're what iscalled 'Titian-haired, '"

"Are you makin' fun, Mr. Derry?" she asked suspiciously. 

"No, Amarilly; seriously, I think it the loveliest shade of hair thereis, and now I am going to show you how you should wear it. Unbind it, all four of those skin-tight braids. "

She obeyed him, and a loosened, thick mass of hair fell below her waist. 

"Glorious!" he cried fervidly. "Take that comb from the top of your headand comb it out. There! Now part it, and catch up these strandsloosely--so. I must find a ribbon for a bow. What color would yousuggest, Amarilly?"

"Brown. "

"Bravo, Amarilly. If you had said blue, I should have lost all faith inyour future upcoming. Here are two most beautiful brown bows on thisthingamajig some one gave me last Christmas, and whose claim on creationI never discovered. Let me braid your hair loosely for two andone-quarter inches. One bow here--another there. Look in the glass, Amarilly. If I give you these bows will you promise me never to wearyour hair in any other fashion until you are sixteen at least? Off withyour apron! It's picturesque, but soapy and exceedingly wet. You won'tneed a hat. It's only around the corner, and I want your hair to beobserved and admired. "

Amarilly gained assurance from the reflection of her hair in the mirror, and they started gayly forth like two school children out for a lark. Heushered her into a quiet little café that had an air of pronouncedelegance about it. In a secluded corner behind some palms came thesubdued notes of stringed instruments. Derry seemed to be well knownhere, and his waiter viewed his approach with an air of proprietorship. 

"It's dead quiet here, " thought Amarilly wonderingly. "Like a church. "

It was beginning to dawn upon her alert little brain that real thingswere all quiet, not noisy like the theatre. 

"What shall we have first, Amarilly?" inquired her new friend with mockdeference. "Bouillon?"

Amarilly, recalling the one time in her life when she had had"luncheon, " replied casually that she preferred fruit, and suggested amelon. 

"Good, Amarilly! You are a natural epicure. Fruit, certainly, on a warmday like this. I shall let you select all the courses. What next?"

"Lobster, " she replied nonchalantly. 

"Fine! And then?"

"Grapefruit salad. "

He looked at her in amazement, and reflected that she had doubtless beenemployed in some capacity that had made her acquainted with luncheonmenus. 

"And, " concluded Amarilly, without waiting for prompting, "I think anice would be about right. And coffee in a little cup, and some cheese. "

"By all means, Amarilly, " he responded humbly. "And what kind of cheese, please?"

"Now I'm stumped, " thought Amarilly ruefully, "fer I can't 'member howto speak the kind she hed. "

"Most any kind, " she said loftily, "except that kind you put inmousetraps. "

"Oh, Amarilly, you are a true aristocrat! How comes it that you scrubfloors? Is it on a bet?"

The waiter came up and said something to the artist in a low tone, andDerry replied hastily:

"Nothing to-day. " Then, turning to Amarilly, he asked her if she wouldlike a glass of milk. Upon her assent, he ordered two glasses of milk, to the veiled surprise of the waiter. 

When the luncheon was served, Amarilly, by reason of her good memory, was still at ease. The children at the Guild school had been given a fewgeneral rules in table deportment, but Amarilly had followed everymovement of Colette's so faithfully at the eventful luncheon that sheate very slowly, used the proper forks and spoons, and won Derry'sundisguised admiration. 

"Mr. Vedder's, good, " she thought. "Mr. St. John's grand, but this 'ereMr. Derry's folksy. I'd be skeert settin' here eatin' with Mr. St. John, but this feller's only a kid, and I feel quite to hum with him. "

"Amarilly, " he said confidentially, as they were sipping their coffeefrom "little cups, " "you are truthful, I know. Will you be perfectlyfrank with me and answer a question?"

"Mebby, " she replied warily. 

"Did you ever eat a luncheon like this before?"

"I never seen the inside of a restyrant afore, " she replied. 

"Now you are fencing. I mean, did you ever have the same things to eatthat we had just now?"

Amarilly hesitated, longing to mystify him further, but it came over herin a rush how very kind he had been to her. 

"Yes, I hev. I'll tell you all about it. "

"Good! An after-dinner story! Beat her up, Amarilly!"

So she told him of her patroness and the luncheon she had eaten at herhouse. 

"And I watched how she et and done, and she tole me the names of thethings we hed. I writ them out, and that was my lesson that night withthe Boarder. "

Then, of course, Derry must know all about the Boarder and the brothers. After she had finished her faithful descriptions, it was time to returnto the studio. Her quick, keen eyes had noted the size of the bill Derryhad put on the salver, and the small amount of change he had received. She walked home beside him in troubled silence. 

"What's the matter, Amarilly?" he asked as she was buttoning on herapron preparatory to resuming work. "Didn't the luncheon agree with you, or are you mad at me? And for why, pray?"

Amarilly's thin little face flushed and a tear came into each thoughtfuleye. 

"I hedn't orter to hev tole you ter git all them things. I was atryin'ter be smart and show off, but, honest, I didn't know they was agoin'ter cost so much. I ain't agoin' ter take no money fer the cleanin', andthat'll help some. "

Derry laughed rapturously. 

"My dear child!" he exclaimed, when he could speak. "You are a veritablelittle field daisy. You really saved me money by going with me. If I hadgone alone, I should have spent twice as much. "

"How could that be?" she asked unbelievingly. "You would only hev giveone order, so 'twould hev ben jest half as much. "

"But if you had not been with me, I should have had a cocktail and abottle of wine, which would have cost more than our meal. Out ofdeference to your youth and other things, I forbore to indulge. So yousee I saved money by having you along. And then it was much better forme not to have had those libations. "

"Honest true?"

"Honest true, hope to die! Cross my heart and all the rest of it! I'dlie cheerfully to some people, but never to you, Amarilly. "

"My. Reeves-Eggleston--he's on the stage--said artists was allers poor. "

"That's one reason why I am not an artist--a great artist. I am hamperedby an inheritance that allows me to live without working, so I don't doanything worth while. I only dabble at this and that. Some day, maybe, I'll have an inspiration. "

"Go to work now, " she admonished. 

"I must perforce. My model's foot is on the stair. "

Amarilly left the studio to resume her cleaning. At five o'clock shecame back. Derry stood at the window, working furiously at some fleecyclouds sailing over a cerulean sky. She was about to speak, butdiscerning that he must work speedily and uninterruptedly to keep pacewith the shifting clouds, she refrained. 

"There!" he said. "I got it. You were a good little girl not tointerrupt me, Amarilly. "

"It's beautiful!" gasped Amarilly. "I was afeard you'd git the sky blueinstead of purplish and that you'd make the clouds too white. "

"Amarilly, you've the soul of an artist! In you I have found a truecritic. "

"Come and see if the rooms is all right. I got 'em real clean. Everynook and corner. And--"

"I know you did, Amarilly, without looking. I can smell the clean fromhere. "

"If thar's nothin' more you want did, I'll go hum. "

"Here's a dollar for the rooms and two dollars for the surplice. Amarilly, you were glad to learn table manners from Miss King, weren'tyou?"

"Yes; I like to larn all I kin. "

"Then, will you let me teach you something?"

"Sure!" she acquiesced quickly. 

"There are two things you must do for me. Never say 'et'; say 'ate'instead. Then you must say 'can'; not 'kin. ' It will be hard to rememberat first, but every time you forget and make a mistake, remember to-dayand our jolly little luncheon, will you?"

"I will, and I _can_, Mr. Derry. "

"You're an apt little pupil, Amarilly, and I am going to teach you twowords every time you come. "

"Oh!" exclaimed Amarilly, brightening. "Will you want me ter come agin?"

"Indeed I shall. I am going away next week to the mountains for a coupleof months. When I come back, I am going to have you come every morningat nine o'clock. You can prepare and serve my simple breakfast and cleanmy rooms every day. Then they won't get so disreputable. I will pay youwhat they do at the theatre, and it will not be such hard work. Will youenjoy it as well?"

"Oh, better!" exclaimed Amarilly. 

And with this naive admission died the last spark of Amarilly'sstage-lust. 

"Then consider yourself engaged. You can call for the surplice to-morrowafternoon at this hour. "

"Thank you, Mr. Derry. "

She hesitated, and then awkwardly extended her hand, which he shook mostcordially. 

"Thank you for a day's entertainment, Amarilly. I haven't been boredonce. You have very nice hands, " looking down at the one he still held. 

She reddened and jerked her hand quickly away. 

"Now you _are_ kiddin'! They're redder than my hair, and rough and big. "

"I repeat, Amarilly, you have nice hands. It isn't size and color thatcounts; it's shape, and from an artist's standpoint you have shapelyhands. Now will you be good, and shake hands with me in a perfectlyladylike way? Thank you, Amarilly. "

"Thank _you_, Mr. Derry. It's the beautifulest day I ever hed. Better'nthe matinée or the Guild or--" she drew a quick breath and said in ascared whisper--"the church!"

"I am flattered, Amarilly. We shall have many ruby-lettered days likeit. "

CHAPTER X

The next afternoon Amarilly called at the studio for the surplice. 

"I am glad to see you have your hair fixed as I told you, Amarilly, " wasDerry's greeting. "And have you remembered the other things I told you?"

"I hev' writ out 'can' and 'ate' in big letters and pinned 'em up on thewall. I can say 'em right every time now. "

"Of course you can! And for a reward here's a dollar with which to buysome black velvet hair-ribbons. Never put any color but black or brownnear your hair, Amarilly. "

"No, Mr. Derry; but I don't want to take the dollar. "

"See here, Amarilly! You're to be my little housemaid, and the uniformis always provided. Instead of buying you a cap and apron, I prefer tofurnish velvet hair-ribbons. Take it, and get a good quality silkvelvet. And now, good-by for two months. I will let you know when I amhome so that you may begin on your duties. "

"Good-by, Mr. Derry, " said the little girl artlessly. "And thar'ssomething I'd like to say to you, if you don't mind. "

"You may say anything--everything--to me, Amarilly. "

"When you go to eat, won't you order jest as ef I was with you--nothin'more?"

His fair boyish face reddened slightly, and then a serious look cameinto his dancing eyes. 

"By Jove, Amarilly! I've been wishing some girl who really meant it, whoreally cared, would say that to me. You put it very delicately andsweetly. I'll--yes, I'll do it all the time I'm gone. There's my hand onit. Good-by, Amarilly. "

"Good-by, Mr. Derry. "

Amarilly walked home very slowly, trying to think of a way to realizeagain from the surplice. 

"I'm afeerd I won't find a place to rent it right away, " she sighed. 

Looking up, she saw the Boarder. A slender, shy slip of a girl had hisarm, and he was gazing into her intent eyes with a look of adoration. 

"Oh, the Boarder is in love!" gasped Amarilly; her responsive littleheart leaping in sympathetic interest. "That's why he's wore a bluenecktie the last few days. Lord Algernon said that was allers a suresign. "

She tactfully slipped around a corner, unseen by the entranced couple. 

That night, as he was lighting his after-supper pipe, the Boarderremarked casually:

"I'd like to rent the surplus fer an hour to-morrer, Amarilly. "

"Why, what on airth can you do with it?" was the astonished query. 

The Boarder looked sheepish. 

"You see, Amarilly, I'm akeepin' stiddy company with a little gal. "

"I seen you and her this arternoon. She's orful purty, " said Amarillyreflectively. "She looked kinder delikit, though. What's her name?"

"Lily--Lily Rose. Ain't that a purty name?"

"Beautiful. The lily part jest suits her. She's like a flower--a whiteflower. But what do you want the surplus fer?"

"You see, " began the Boarder, coming by circuitous route to his subject, "gals git notions in their heads sometimes when they air in--"

"Love, " promptly supplied the comprehending little girl. 

"Yes, " he assented with a fiery blush. "And she wants fer me to hev mylikeness took so I kin give it to her. "

"Thar ain't nothin' foolish about that!" declared Amarilly. 

"No; but I never sot fer one yet. I wouldn't mind, but you see she's gotit in her head that I am good-looking--"

"Well, you be, " corroborated Amarilly decisively. 

"And she wants me fer to dress up like a preacher. I told her aboutHallie Hudgers lookin' so swell in the surplus, and she wants, as Ishould dress up in it and set fer my likeness in it. "

"I think it would be fine!" approved Amarilly. "You sure would looknicer nor Hallie did. "

"Well, I wouldn't look like a dead one, " admitted the Boarder. "But Iwas orful afraid you'd laugh. Then I kin rent it fer an hour to-morreref it ain't got no other dates. "

"You can't _rent_ it. You can take it fer an hour, or so long as youlike, " she assured him. 

"You'll hev to take a quarter anyway, fer luck. Mebby 'twill bring meluck awinnin' her. "

The photograph of the Boarder in saintly attire was pronounced a greatsuccess. Before the presentation he had it set in a frame made of giltnetwork studded with shells. 

Lily Rose spent her leisure moments gazing upon it with the dream-centred eyes of a young devotee before a shrine. 

The next wearing of the surplice was more in accord with its originaldesign. In the precinct adjoining the one in which lived and let livethe Jenkins family, a colored Episcopal church had recently beenestablished. The rector had but one surplice, and that had been stolenfrom the clothes-line, mayhap by one of his dusky flock; thus it wasthat Amarilly received a call from the Reverend Virgil Washington, whohad heard of the errant surplice, which he offered to purchase. 

Naturally his proposition was met by a firm and unalterable refusal. Itwould have been like selling a golden goose to dispose of such aprofitable commodity. He then asked to rent it for a Sunday while he washaving one made. This application, being quite in Amarilly's line ofbusiness, met with a ready assent. 

"You can hev it fer a dollar, " she offered. 

The bargain was finally closed, although it gave Amarilly more than apassing pang to think of the snowy folds of Mr. St. John's garmentadorning an Ethiopian form. 

One day there came to the Jenkins home a most unusual caller. The novelpresence of the "mailman" at their door brought every neighbor to postof observation. His call was for the purpose of leaving a gayly-coloredpostal card addressed to "Miss Amarilly Jenkins. " It was from Derry, andshe spent many happy moments in deciphering it. His writing wasmicroscopic, and he managed to convey a great deal of information in theallotted small space. He inquired solicitously concerning the surplice, and bade her be a good girl and not forget the two words he had taughther. "I have ordered all my meals as though you were with me, " he wrotein conclusion. 

Amarilly laid the card away with her wedding waist. Then, with theBoarder's aid, she indited an answer on a card that depicted the BarlowTheatre. 

The next event for Amarilly was an invitation to attend the wedding ofMrs. Hubbleston, a buxom, bustling widow for whom Mrs. Jenkins washed. In delivering the clothes, Amarilly had come to be on very friendlyterms with the big, light-hearted woman, and so she had been asked toassist in the serving of refreshments on the eventful night. 

"I've never been to a wedding, " said Amarilly wistfully. "I've been tomost everything else, and I would like to see you wed, but I ain't gotno clo'es 'cept my hair-ribbons. "

Mrs. Hubbleston looked at her contemplatively. 

"My last husband's niece's little girl left a dress here once when shewas going home after a visit. She had hardly worn it, but she hadoutgrown it, and her ma told me to give it away. I had 'most forgottenabout it. I believe it would just fit you. Let us see. "

She produced a white dress that adjusted itself comfortably toAmarilly's form. 

"You look real pretty in white, Amarilly. You shall have this dress foryour own. "

On the nuptial night Amarilly, clad in the white gown and with blackvelvet hair-ribbons, went forth at an early hour to the house offestivity. 

Mrs. Hubbleston, resplendent in a glittering jetted gown, came into thekitchen to see that things were progressing properly. 

"Ain't you flustered?" asked Amarilly, looking at her in awe. 

"Land, no, child! I have been married four times before this, you see, so it comes natural. There goes the doorbell. It must be Mr. Jimmels andthe minister. "

In a few moments she returned to the kitchen for sympathy. 

"I am so disappointed, " she sighed, "but then, I might have expectedsomething would happen. It always does at my weddings. "

"What is it?" asked Amarilly, apprehensive lest the wedding might bedeclared off. 

"I've been married once by a Baptist minister, once by a Methodist, andthe third time by a Congregationalist; last time a Unitarian tied theknot. So this once I thought I would have an Episcopal, because theirwhite robe lends tone. And Rev. Mr. Woodthorn has come without his. Hesays he never brings it to the house weddings unless speciallyrequested. He lives clear across the city, and the carriage has goneaway. "

"Oh, I have a surplus!" cried Amarilly enthusiastically. "I'll telephoneour grocer. Milt's ahelpin' him to-night, and he can ride over here onthe grocer's wheel and fetch it. "

"Why, how in the world did you come by such a thing as a surplice?"asked the widow in surprise. 

Amarilly quickly explained, and then telephoned to her brother. 

"He says he'll be over here in a jiffy, " she announced. "And ain't itlucky, it's jest been did up clean!"

"My, but that's fortunate! It'll be the making of my wedding. I shallgive you a dollar for the use of it, the same as those others did. "

"No!" objected Amarilly. "Ill be more than glad to let you hev it arteryour givin' me this fine dress. "

"I'll have Mr. Jimmels pay you for it. He can take a dollar out of thefee for the minister. It will serve him right for not bringing all histrappings with him. "

Amarilly's sense of justice was appeased by this arrangement. She wentinto the double parlors to witness the ceremony, which gave her a fewlittle heart thrills. 

"Them words sounds orful nice, " she thought approvingly. "The Boarderand Lily Rose must hev an Episcopal fer to marry them. I wonder if I'llever get to Miss King's and Mr. St. John's weddin' or Mr. Derry's; but Iguess he'll never be married. He jokes too much to be thinkin' of sechthings. " Then came the thought of her own wedding garment awaiting itsdestiny. 

"I ain't even hed a beau, yet, " she sighed, "but the Boarder says that Iwill--that red-headed girls ain't never old maids from ch'ice. "

With this sustaining thought, she proceeded to the dining-room. She hadbeen taught at the Guild how to wait on table, and she proved herself tobe very deft and capable in putting her instructions into effect. 

"Here's two dollars, " the complacent bride said to Amarilly beforedeparting. "One is for serving so nicely, and one is for the surplice. Itold them in the kitchen to put you up a basket of things to take hometo the children. "

Amarilly thanked her profusely and then went home. She deposited her twodollars in the family exchequer, and proceeded to distribute thecontents of the basket. 

"Now, set around the table here, and take what I give you. Thar ain'tenough of one thing to go hull way round, except fer ma. She's agoin' tohev some of each. Yes, you be, ma. This here baskit's mine. Here's asandwich, some chicken, salid, jell, two kinds of cake, and some ice-cream fer you. Bud can hev first pick now, 'cause he ain't so strong asthe rest of you. All right, Bud; take the rest of the ice-cream and somecake. "

"'Tain't fair! I'm a girl, and I'm younger than Bud. I'd orter choosefirst, " sobbed Cory. 

"Shut up, Co! You'll wake Iry, and then he'll hev to hev something, andif he sleeps right through, thar'll be jest so much more fer you. 'Twon't hurt him to miss what he don't know about. All right, Cory, youcan hev cake and jell. That's a good boy, Bud, to give her two tastes ofthe cream, and ma'll give you two more. Bobby? Sandwiches and pickle. Milt? Chicken and salid. Flammy and Gus, pickle and sandwich is allthat's left fer you. The rest of this chicken is agoin' into theBoarder's dinner pail to-morrer. "

CHAPTER XI

Milton came home from the grocery one night with a telephone messagefrom Mr. Vedder requesting Amarilly to bring the surplice to his roomson the next day. 

"How is business?" asked the ticket-seller kindly, when the little girlappeared in answer to his summons. 

"Fine! The surplus has brung in nine dollars and seventy-five centsa'ready. It's kept things goin'. "

"The theatre will open in a couple of weeks, and then you will havesteady work, though I wish we might get an easier and pleasanteroccupation for you. "

"I'm agoin' to hev one, Mr. Vedder, " and she proceeded to tell him ofDerry and her engagement at his studio. 

"It kinder seems as if I b'longed to the theayter, and you've been soorful kind to me, Mr. Vedder, that it'll seem strange-like not to behere, but Mr. Phillips's work'll be a snap fer me. "

"You've been a good, faithful little girl, Amarilly, and I shall want tokeep track of you and see you occasionally, so I am going to give you apass to every Saturday matinée during the winter. "

"Oh, Mr. Vedder, there's been no one so good as you've been to me! Andyou never laugh at me like other folks do. "

"No, indeed, child! Why should I? But I never knew before that you hadsuch beautiful hair!"

"It's 'cause it's fixed better, " said Amarilly with a blush. "But whowants the surplus this time?"

"I do, " he replied smiling. "I am invited to a sheet and pillow-caseparty. I thought this surplice would be more comfortable than a sheet. Here's a dollar for it. "

"No, " declined Amarilly firmly. "Not arter all you've done fer us. Iwon't take it. "

"Amarilly, " he said earnestly. "I have no one in the world to doanything for, and sometimes, when I get to thinking about it, I am verylonely. So if you want to be kind to me, you will give me the pleasureof helping you a little now and then. I shall not enjoy the party unlessyou will take the money. "

Amarilly cried a little that night, thinking how good he was. 

"I hed orter like him best of all, " she thought reproachfully. 

Two or three days later Pete Noyes came to the house. 

"Hello, Amarilly! I ain't seen yer in so long I'd fergit how you looked. Say, why didn't you ever fix yer hair that way afore? It looks swell, even if it is red!"

"I am older now, " she explained in superior, lofty tones, "and of courseI hev to think more about my looks than I used ter. "

He gazed at her with such ardent admiration that she was seized with animpulse to don her white dress and impress his young fancy stillfurther. 

"He ain't wuth it, though, " her sober second thought decided. 

"What does yer think I come fer, Amarilly?"

"I dunno, 'less Mr. Vedder sent you. "

"He did, sorter. You see, I'm invited to one of them kind of partieswhar you dress up ter be the name of a book. One of the stock company isgivin' it fer her kids. I don't know the name of any book except_Diamond Dick_ and _The Curse of Gold_, and I didn't know how to rig upfer them. I went to Vedder, and he sez thar's a book what's called _TheLittle Minister_, and I could rent yer surplus and tog out in it. Hesaid you would take tucks in it fer me. "

"Sure I will. I'll fix it now while you wait, Pete. "

"Say, Amarilly, I thought as how, seein' we are both in the perfesshun, sorter, you'd come down on your price. "

"Sure thing, Pete. I won't charge you nothin' fer it. "

"Yes; I wanter pay. I'll tell you what, Amarilly, couldn't you take itout in gum? I hed a hull lot left over when the theayter shut down. It'll git stale ef I keep it much longer, and I'd like to git some of itoffen my hands. "

"Sure, I will, Pete. We all like gum, and we can't afford to buy it veryoften. That'll be dandy. "

Thus it was that for the next fortnight the Jenkins family revelled inthe indulgence of a hitherto denied but dearly prized luxury. Their jawsworked constantly and joyously, although differently. Mrs. Jenkins, byreason of depending upon her third set of teeth, chewed cautiously andwith camel-like precision. The Boarder, having had long practice in theart, craunched at railway speed. The older boys munched steadily andeasily, while Bud and Bobby pecked intermittently in short nibbles. Amarilly had the "star method, " which they all vainly tried to emulate. At short and regular intervals a torpedo-like report issued from the gumas she snapped her teeth down upon it. Cory kept hers strung outelastically from her mouth, occasionally rolling it back. 

The liberal supply of the luxury rapidly diminished, owing to the factthat Iry swallowed his allowance after ineffectual efforts to retain itin his mouth, and then like Oliver Twist pleaded for more. 

"I declare fer it!" remarked Mrs. Hudgers to Amarilly. "That child'sinsides will all be stuck together. I should think yer ma would beafeard to let him chaw so much. "

"He's ateethin', and it sorter soothes his gums, " explained Amarilly. 

During the summer season, Pete had pursued his profession at avaudeville theatre, and one day, not long after his literaryrepresentation, he came to Amarilly with some good tidings. 

"I hev another job fer yer surplus. Down to the vawdyville they're goin'to put on a piece what has a preacher in it, and I tole them about yersurplus, and the leadin' man, who is to be the preacher, says 'twouldlend to the settin's to wear it. I told him mebby you'd let him hev theuse on it fer a week fer five dollars. He said he could buy the stuffand make a dozen fer that price, but they gotter start the pieceto-night so that'd be no time to make one. I'll take it down to themto-night. "

This was the longest and most remunerative act of the surplice, andserved to pay for a very long accruing milk bill. When the engagement atthe vaudeville ended, the Boarder came to the rescue. 

"Thar's a friend of mine what brakes, and he wants the surplus to wearto a maskyrade. I told him he could go as a preacher. He's asavin' togit merried, so he don't want to give much. "

"He shell hev it fer a quarter, " said Amarilly, friend to all lovers, "and I'll lend him a mask. I hev one the property man at the theaytergive me. "

CHAPTER XII

"I wonder, " meditated Gus, "where the surplus will land next?"

"It has been most everywhere except to the police court, " said Bobby. "'Spect 'twill land there next!"

His prophecy was fulfilled. Mrs. Jenkins washed the lucrative garmentlate one afternoon and left it on the line all night. The next morning, to the great consternation of the family and the wild distress ofAmarilly, the beloved surplice, that friend of friends in time of need, had vanished. Other clotheslines in the vicinity had also been deprivedof their burdens, and a concerted complaint was made to the police, whopromptly located the offender and brought him summarily to trial. Mrs. Jenkins was subpoenaed as a witness, which caused quite a ripple ofexcitement in the family. Divided between dread of appearing in publicand pride at the importance with which she was regarded by her littleflock, Mrs. Jenkins was quite upset by the occasion. She hadn't attendeda function for so long that her costuming therefor was of more concernthan had been Amarilly's church raiment. 

Mrs. Hudgers loaned her mourning bonnet and veil, which was adjusted athalf mast. They appeared in direct contradiction to the skirt of biliousgreen she wore, but the Jenkinses were as unconventional in attire asthey were in other things. 

The family attended the trial _en masse_, and were greatly elated at theprominence their mother had attained. The culprit was convicted and thesurplice duly restored. The misfortune was not without profit. Mrs. Jenkins received thirty-five cents as a witness fee. 

They had managed to pay their household expenses through the summer, butwhen the rent for August was due there was not quite enough cash on handto meet this important item of expenditure. Noting the troubled brows ofMrs. Jenkins and Amarilly at breakfast time, the Boarder insisted onknowing the cause. 

"We're broke, and the rent's overdue, " tersely explained Amarilly. 

"I'm broke, too, " sighed the Boarder, "except what I've got in thesavin's bank towards--"

"Lily Rose, " suggested Amarilly softly. 

"Yes, " he admitted, with a beaming look. "But when I go broke, all otherthings failin', I allers tackle a pawnbroker. "

"We ain't got nothin' to pawn, " sighed Amarilly. 

She recalled the lace waist, but that, like the Lily Rose fund, wassacred. There was always, to-day, yesterday, and forever, the surplice, and her scruples regarding that article had of necessity become case-hardened; still, Amarilly hesitated. A pawnshop seemed lower than apolice court. 

"It's been everywhere else, " she said loudly to the accusing, still, small voice, "and it might jest as well go the limit. 'T won't bringmuch, but 'twill help. "

Through byways and highways Amarilly sought the region of the three-balled porticoes. The shop of one Max Solstein attracted her, and sheentered his open door. Max, rat-eyed and frog-mouthed, came forwardpropitiatingly. 

"What'll you gimme on this?" came with directness from the smallimportuner. 

He took the garment, shook it, and held it up for falcon-gazeinspection. 

"Not worth much. A quarter of a dollar. "

Amarilly snatched it from his grasp and fled. Not because of his low-figured offer; she had fully expected to have to "beat him up. " But whenshe had entered, a youth who had all the recognized earmarks of areporter was lounging in the doorway. At sight of the uplifted garmenthe had come eagerly forward, scenting a story. She knew his kind fromsnatches of conversation she had heard between the leading lady and LordAlgernon. In the lore of the stage at Barlow's, reporters were "hoveringvultures" who always dropped down when least wanted, and they had a wayof dragging to light the innermost thoughts of their victims. 

"You read your secrets, " Lord Algernon had dramatically declared, "inblazoned headlines. "

Hitherto Amarilly had effectually silenced her instinctive rebellionagainst the profaning of St. John's surplice, but she had reached thelimit. No Max Solstein, no threatening landlord, no ruthless reportershould thrust the sacred surplice into the publicity of print. 

She darted from the shop, the reporter right at her heels, but thechasing of his covey to corner was not easily accomplished. He was anewly fledged reporter, and Amarilly had all the instinct of the lowlyfor localities. She turned and doubled and dodged successfully. By acourse circuitous she returned to Hebrew haunts, this time to seek, oneAbram Canter, a little wizened, gnome-like Jew. Assuring herself thatthere was no other than the proprietor within, Amarilly entered andhanded over the surplice for appraisal. 

Once more the garment was held aloft. At that psychological moment anelderly man of buxom build, benevolent in mien, and with smooth, longhair that had an upward rolling tendency at the ends, looked in the shopas he was passing. He halted, hesitated, and then entered. Of him, however, Amarilly felt no apprehension. 

"Looks like Quaker Oats, or mebby it's the Jack of Spades, " she thoughtafter a searching survey. 

"My child, is that yours?" he asked of Amarilly, indicating the garmentby a protesting forefinger. 

"Sure thing!" she acknowledged frankly. 

"Where did you get it?"

If he had been a young man, Amarilly would have cheerfully reminded himthat it was none of his business, but, a respecter of age, she loftilyinformed him that it had been "give to her. "

"By whom?" he persisted. 

Perceiving her reluctance to answer, he added gently:

"I am a bishop of the Episcopal Church, and I cannot endure to see asurplice in such a place as this. "

A bishop! This was worse than a reporter even. St. John would surelyhear of it! But she felt that an explanation was due the calling of herinterlocutor. 

She lifted righteous eyes to his. 

"My mother works for one of the churches, and the minister, he give usthis to cut up into clo'es fer the chillern, but we didn't cut it up. I'm agoin' to leave it here till the rent's paid, and we git the moneyto take it outen hock. "

The bishop's eyes softened, and lost their look of shocked dignity. 

"I will advance you the money, " he offered. "I would much prefer to doso than to have it left here. How much money do you need to pay yourrent?"

"We need five dollars, " said Amarilly, "to pay the balance of it. But Iwouldn't take it from you. I ain't no beggar. I don't believe, nuther, "she continued, half to herself, "that Mr. St. John would like it. "

"Who is Mr. St. John?" he asked curiously. "I know of no such rector inthis diocese. My child, you have an honest face. Since you won't accepta gift of money, I will lend, you the amount. I want you to tell me allabout yourself and this surplice. "

"Well, mebby he'd want me to, " reflected Amarilly. 

"Gimme back that surplus, " she said to the Jew, who seemed loath torelinquish his booty. 

As she walked up the street with the bishop, she frankly related thefamily history and the part Mr. Meredith and the surplice had playedtherein. 

The bishop had generous instincts, and a desire to reach the needydirectly instead of through the medium of institutions, but he had neverknown just how to approach them. His presence in this unknown part ofthe city had been unpremeditated, but he welcomed the chance that hadled his steps hither to perform an errand of mercy. He handed Amarillyfive dollars, and wrote down her address. He was most reluctant toreceive the surplice as security, but Amarilly's firm insistence was notto be overcome. She returned home, rejoicing in the knowledge that shehad the price of their happy home in her pocket. The bishop had givenher his card, which she laid in a china saucer with other bits ofpasteboard she had collected from Derry Phillips, Mr. Vedder, and PeteNoyes. The saucer adorned a small stand in the dining-room part of thehouse. 

"It's the way Mrs. Hubbleston kep' her keerds, " Amarilly explained tothe family. 

Meantime the bishop was walking in an opposite direction toward hishome, wondering if he should find he was mistaken in his estimate ofhuman nature; and a query arose in his mind as to what he should do withthe surplice if it were left on his hands. 

CHAPTER XIII

Bud sat in the park, --Clothes-line Park, Amarilly had dubbed it--oneMonday afternoon, singing a song of gladness. The park was confined by aclothes-line stretched between three tottering poles and the onesolitary poplar tree of the Jenkins estate. The line was hung with whitelinen garments, and smaller articles adorned the grass plot within thepark. 

This to Bud was the most beautiful spot in the world. He looked up intothe sapphire blue of the sky flecked with soft patches of white, thendown upon the waving grass latticed by sun and shade; he listened to thesoothing rustle of the poplar leaves, the soft flapping of linen in thebreeze, the birds in the tree tops, and felt his heart and throatbursting with all the harmony and melody about him. Not always was Bud'srefrain one of joy. There were songs of sorrow on the damp days when thewashings must be dried within the house, and he could not venture forthbecause he still was regarded as the delicate one of the family. Therewere days, too, when the number of garments was not adequate to completethe boundary to the park, and that meant less to eat and worry about therent and a harassed look in his mother's anxious eyes. 

But there was no sob in Bud's song this afternoon. The clothes had beenhung out unusually early, and were nearly dry, so his mother had broughtout her little lean-back rocker and sat beside him for a few moments tolisten to his carol and to hark back to the days when his lusty-voicedfather had sung to her in the shadows of a vine clad porch. 

It was not upon Amarilly, the sharer of her burdens, nor upon the babythat Mrs. Jenkins lavished her tenderness. Bud crept closest because hehad been the one most dependent upon her care. 

When the little singer ceased, the mother arose and unpinned thegarments, carrying them in armfuls to the huge basket in the middle ofthe park. Bud watched her thin, fatigued hands as they performed theiraccustomed task, and a sudden inspiration came to him. His future fieldof labor had troubled him. Now his way seemed clear. He stepped nimblyto the grass plot and gathered up the pieces spread thereon. 

"Ma, " he said, as they met at the basket, "I've jest thought what I kindo, when I grow up, to support you. "

"What is it, Bud?" she asked interestedly. 

"The teacher said we must plan to do what we knew the most about. I knowmore about washin' than anything else. "

"You'd orter, " she replied with a sigh. 

"I kin run a laundry, " he declared. 

"That would be a fine business. "

Happy in the hope of this new horoscope, Bud resumed his seat in theamphitheatre, and in a voice of clarion clearness ecstatically renderedone of the hymns he had learned at St. Mark's. Ever since he had becomea member of the choir, Clothes-line Park had rung with echoes of theJubilate and Venite instead of the popular old-time school airs. Thewringer was turned to the tune of a Te Deum, the clothes were rubbed tothe rhythm of a Benedictus, and the floor mopped to the melody of aMagnificat. 

On the happy, by-gone Thursdays, cloistered by snow-white surplices, with the little chorister enthroned in the midst, Clothes-line Park hadseemed a veritable White Chapel. 

Bud was snatched from his carols by the arrival of Amarilly, who was fartoo practical to hearken to hymns when there was work to be performed. 

"I got the money Miss Ormsby's owed us so long, " she announced in a toneof satisfaction, "and that jest makes up the money to git back thesurplus. I'll give you carfare one way, Bud, and you must go to thebishop's and git it. I'm too beat to go. I've walked most five milessence dinner. "

Bud was scoured and brushed, the pocket of his blouse tagged with afive-dollar bill carefully secured by a safety pin, and he started onhis way for the address Amarilly had given him. He stopped at the cornerdrug store to spend his car-fare for an ice-cream soda. 

When the lad's quest was repeated to the bishop by his housekeeper, heinstructed her to send Bud up to the library, being kindly-disposedtowards all boy-kind. While he was questioning his young visitor, theorgan of Grace Church, which was next to the bishop's house, pealedforth, and a man's voice began to chant a selection from an oratorio Budhad learned at St. Mark's. A high, childish soprano voice was essayingto carry the sustained note an octave above the man's voice; once itsharped. 

"Oh!" shuddered Bud in dismay. "He can't keep the tune. "

"He isn't our regular soloist, " explained the bishop apologetically. "Heis ill, and this boy is trying to learn the part for an organ recital tobe given next week. "

Again the choirmaster's voice, patient and wearied, began the refrain. Instinctively Bud's little chest swelled, and involuntarily his clear, high treble took the note and sustained it without break through themeasures, and then triumphantly broke into the solo. The bishop's eyesshone. 

"Come, " he said, rising and going towards the door, "come with me. "

Wonderingly and obediently, Bud followed him into the church and up tothe organ where the choirmaster sat. 

"This is one of the boys from St. Mark's. Try him on the solo. He justsang it for me. "

"I thought I heard it sung just now, but I feared it was only an echo ofmy dreams. Let me hear you again, my lad. "

Easily and confidently Bud attacked the high C in alt. At the end of thesolo, the long-suffering choirmaster looked as if he were an Orpheus, who had found his Eurydice. 

"Who taught you to sing that solo?" he demanded. 

"My school teacher. She is studying fer an opery singer, and she helpsme with my Sunday singing. "

"I thought the style was a little florid for the organist of St. Mark's, " said the choirmaster whimsically. "My boy, if you will sing itfor us at the recital as well as you did just now, you shall have tendollars. "

The laundry now loomed as a fixed star in Bud's firmament. When he wenthome and told his mother the good news she moved joyfully among her mopsand tubs. The turn of the wringer never seemed so easy, and shefrequently paused in the rubbing of a soaped garment to wring the sudsfrom her swollen hands and listen anew to the recital of Bud's call uponthe bishop and the choirmaster of Grace Church. 

CHAPTER XIV

The next day the flood-tide of the Jenkins's fortunes bid fair to flowto fullness. Word came to the little home that Mr. Meredith had returnedto the city and desired the laundry work to be resumed. Bud was summonedto choir practice the following Friday, and Miss King sent her chauffeurwith a fair-sized washing. 

"Everything comes so to onct, it takes your breath away, " said Amarilly, quite overcome by this renewal of commercial activity, "and next thing Iknow, "--there her heart gave a deer-like leap--"Mr. Derry'll be hum, andsendin' fer me. Then we'll all be earnin' excep' Gus. "

At the end of the week Amarilly eagerly went to deliver the washings atthe rectory and Miss King's, but in both instances she was doomed todisappointment, as her friends were not in. 

"I'll go to church and see 'em, " she resolved. 

This time her raiment was very simple, but more effective than upon theoccasion of her previous attendance. 

Before Amarilly's artistic temperament was awakened by the atmosphere ofthe studio, she had been wont to array herself in things convenientwithout regard to color or style, believing herself to be hopelesslyhomely and beyond the aid of personal adornment; but since Derry hadpraised her hair, she had scrupulously cared for it and allowed noconflicting color in proximity thereto. On this occasion she fastened itwith the black velvet bows, and arrayed herself in the white dress Mrs. Jimmels had given her. 

"I declar, Amarilly, " exclaimed her mother, "I believe you're agrowin'purty!"

Amarilly's eyes danced, and she gave her mother a spontaneous andrewarding hug. 

She didn't do her own ushering this time, and was consequently seatedmost inconspicuously near the entrance. Her heart beat rapturously atthe sight of John Meredith in the pulpit. 

"His vacation didn't freshen him up much, " she thought, after a shrewdglance. "He's paler and don't look real peart. Sorter like Bud arter hegot up from the fever. "

Her attention was diverted from the rector by the vision of Colettecoming down the aisle. The change in her appearance was even morestartling to the little anxious-eyed girl than in John's case. Therewere violet shadows under the bright eyes, a subtle, subdued air abouther fresh young beauty that had banished the little touch of wilfulness. As soon as she was seated, which was after the service had begun, shebecame entirely absorbed in her prayer-book. 

"Vacation ain't agreed with her, nuther, " pondered Amarilly perplexedly. 

She turned her gaze again to John, who was sitting back of the choir, while his "understudy" conducted the service. His face was shaded by hishand, but Amarilly's gimlet glance noted that he frequently sent afleeting, troubled look toward the King pew. 

"Thar's something up atwixt 'em, " deduced Amarilly, "and they air bothtoo proud to say nuthin' about it to the other. "

John's sermon was on the strength that renunciation brings, and the dutyof learning resignation. There was a pervasive note of sadness in hisdeliverance of the theme, and Amarilly felt her joyousness in the returnof her friends slipping from her. 

She went out of church somewhat depressed, but was cheered by thehandclasp of the rector and his earnest assurance that he would see hervery soon. While he was saying this, Colette slipped past withoutvouchsafing so much as a glance in their direction. Hurt through andthrough, the little girl walked sadly to the pavement with head and eyesdowncast. 

"Amarilly, " dulcetly spoke a well-loved voice. 

Her eyes turned quickly. Colette stood at the curb, her hand on the doorof the electric. 

"I waited to take you home, dear. Why, what's the matter, Amarilly?Tears?"

"I thought you wan't goin' to speak to me, " said Amarilly, as shestepped into the brougham and took the seat beside Colette. 

"I didn't want to interrupt you and Mr. Meredith, but it's a wonder Iknew you. You look so different. You have grown so tall, and what abeautiful dress! Who showed you how to fix your hair so artistically? Inever realized you had such beautiful hair, child!"

"I didn't nuther, till he told me. "

"Who, Amarilly? Lord Algernon?"

"No!" scoffed Amarilly, suddenly realizing that her former hero hadtoppled from his pedestal in her thoughts. "'Tain't him. It's a newfriend I have made. An artist. "

"Oh, Amarilly, you have such distinguished acquaintances! All in theprofession, too. Tell me who the artist is. "

"Mr. Derry Phillips. I cleaned his rooms, and he took me to lunch. Weate things like we had to your house. "

"Derry Phillips, the talented young artist! Why, Amarilly, girls aretumbling over each other trying to get attention from him, and he tookyou to luncheon! Where?"

"To Carter's, and I'm to serve his breakfast and take care of his rooms, and he showed me how to fix my hair and to say 'can' and 'ate. ' He'sfired the woman what red his rooms. "

"'Merely Mary Ann, '" murmured Colette. 

"No, " said Amarilly positively. "Her name is Miss O'Leary, and shedidn't clean the mopboards. "

Colette's gay laughter pealed forth. 

"Amarilly, this is the first time, I've laughed this summer, but I mustexplain something to you. The housekeeper told me that all the childrenhad scarlet fever and were quarantined a long time after we left. I wishI had known it and thought more about you, but--I've had troubles of myown. How did you manage so long with nothing coming in?"

"It was purty hard, but we fetched it, " sighed Amarilly, thinking of thestruggles, "We're doin' fine now again. "

"But, tell me; how did you buy food and things when none of you wereworking?"

"When your ten dollars was gone, we spent his'n. "

"Whose?"

"Mr. Meredith's. He sent us a ten, too. "

"Oh!" replied Colette frigidly. 

"Then the Boarder give us all he hed. Arterwards come dark days untilMr. Vedder sent us a fiver. --Then thar was an orful day when thar wa'n'ta cent and we didn't know whar to turn, and then--It saved us. "

"It? What?"

"The surplus. Mr. St. John's surplus. It brung in lots. "

"Why, what do you mean, Amarilly?"

"You see 'twas at our house when Iry was fust took sick--same as thewaist you gimme was. They couldn't nuther on 'em be sent hum till theywas fumygated. Then Mrs. Winders said as how he, Mr. St. John, said ashow we was to keep it and cut it up fer the chillern, but we didn't. "

"Oh, Amarilly, " asked Colette faintly, "do you mean to tell me that thesurplice was never delivered to Mr. Meredith?"

"No. Gus didn't take it that night, and in the mornin' when Iry was tookit was too late. And then when it got fumygated, Mr. St. John had goneaway and he left word we was to keep it. "

The transformation in Colette's mobile face during this explanation wasrapid and wonderful. With a radiant smile she stopped the brougham andput her arms impulsively about Amarilly. 

"Oh, Amarilly, I'm so happy, and I've had such a wretched summer! Now, we will go right to your house and you'll let me see the surplice. "Amarilly looked surprised. 

"Why, yes, you can see it, of course, though it ain't no diffrent fromhis other ones. "

"Oh yes it is! Far, far different, Amarilly. It has a history. "

"Yes, I guess it has, " laughed Amarilly, "It's been goin' some theselast two months!"

"Why, what do you mean, Amarilly? and I forgot in my excitement to askhow it helped you. But first tell me. You know there is a pocket in it?"

"Yes, Miss King. "

"Have you noticed anything in the pocket?"

"Never looked onct. But then if thar was 'twould hev come out in thewash. It's been did up heaps of times. You see, rentin' it out somuch--"

"Renting it out!"

Amarilly gave a graphic account of the adventures of the errant garmentto date. Meanwhile Colette's countenance underwent kaleidoscopicchanges. 

"Amarilly, " she asked faintly, "have you the addresses of all thosepeople to whom you rented it?"

"Yes; I keep books now, and I put it down in my day ledger the way theBoarder showed me. "

"There was something--of mine--in--that pocket. Will you ask your motherto look for it, and hunt the house over for it?"

Amarilly, greatly distressed at the loss, promised faithfully to do so. 

CHAPTER XV

As soon as Amarilly had been deposited at her door, Colette tore a leaffrom the tablet reposing in its silver case, hastily wrote a few lines, and then ran her brougham at full speed back to St. Mark's. A choristerwas just coming out. 

"Walter!" she called. 

The lad came down to the curb. 

"Will you please take this to Mr. Meredith? He is probably in theSunday-school now. "

"Sure. Will you wait for an answer, Miss King?". 

"No, thank you, Walter. "

She rode home and waited anxiously for the personal answer to her note, which came with most unclerical alacrity. 

"Colette, " he said, his voice tense, "if you knew what your little notemeant! Did--"

"Wait until I explain, John. I must tell you about the surplice. "

She repeated Amarilly's account of the peregrinations of the robe. 

"Well?" he asked bewildered, "I don't see what that has to do with--"

"Everything. There was something of mine--" she turned a deepcrimson--"in the pocket of that surplice. "

"Yours! Why, how did it get there, Colette? Was it--"

"I am not going to tell you--not until I have it back. Oh, I could dieof shame when I think who may have found it. You must get it. "

"Colette, " he answered gravely, "the surplice must have passed throughmany hands, but if it is possible to trace this--article, I will do so. Still, how can I make inquiries unless I know what it is?"

"You can ask them, each and all, if they found anything in the pocket, "she replied. "And you must tell them you left it there. "

"And you won't trust me, Colette? Not after my long unhappy summer. Andwon't you give me an answer now to the note I wrote you last spring?"

"No; I won't tell you anything! Not until you find that. "

"Be reasonable, Colette. "

His choice of an adjective was most unfortunate for his cause. It wasthe word of words that Colette detested; doubtless because she had beenso often entreated to cultivate that quality. 

"I will not, " she answered, "if to tell you is being reasonable. I musthave it back. I think no one will really know to whom it belongs, thoughthey may guess. You must, assume the ownership. "

"I certainly shall, if it can be found, " he assured her. 

Seeing the utter futility of changing her mood, he took his departure;perhaps a little wiser if not quite so sad as he had been before he sawher. The next morning he called upon Amarilly, whom he found alone withIry. 

"I am very sorry to learn that you had such a hard summer, " he saidkindly, "and I regret that I didn't know more about your affairs beforeI left the city, but I was too absorbed, I fear, in my own troubles. "

"How did you hear about us?" she asked curiously. 

"From Miss King. "

"Oh, " said Amarilly happily, imagining that their trouble must have beenpatched up. Then another thought occurred to her which gave her a littleheart palpitation. With intense anxiety depicted on her lineaments sheasked tremulously: "Did she tell you about the surplus?"

"Amarilly, " and the tone was so reassuring that the little wrinkles ofanxiety vanished, "when I gave you the surplice, I gave it to youunconditionally, and I am very glad that you put it to profit. But, youknow, as Miss King told you, that there was something of value--ofimportance--in that pocket; something that must be found. My happinessdepends entirely upon its recovery. Now, she tells me that you can giveme the names and addresses of all the people through whose hands itpassed. "

"Sure thing!" she replied with business-like alacrity. "You see theBoarder has been larnin' me bookkeepin', and so I keep all our accountsnow in a big book the grocer give me. "

She produced a large, ledger-like book and laid it on the table for hisinspection. He examined her system of bookkeeping with interest. Underthe head of "Cr. , " which she explained to him meant "brung in, " was"Washins, " "Boarder, " "Flamingus, " "Milt, " "Bobby, " "Bud. " Below eachof these subheads were dates and accounts. The page opposite, headed"Dr. , " she translated, "means paid out. "

She turned a few leaves, and in big letters he read the word "Surplus. "

"This bein' a sort of extry account, the Boarder said to run it as aspecial and keep it seprut. If you'll set down, I'll read offer to youwhar it has went. "

She began to read laboriously and slowly from the book, addingexplanatory notes in glib tones. 

"'July 8. Mister Carrul, tenner, 1 doller. Pade. ' He's the tenor, youknow, to Grace Church. He wanted it to sing in at a sacred concert. Hiswas too short or too long. 

"'July 11. Miss Lyte and Miss Bobson. 'Tablos. 1 doller. Pade. ' Mr. Carul knows where they live. 'Twaz him as got the job fer me. 

"'July 15 to July 19. The Beehive. 3 dollers and 1/2 Pade. ' That's abargain store down in our parts. I went in fer to git Bud a cap and Ihearn the clerk askin' the boss about fixin' up a winder show with waxfiggers fer a weddin'. I step up to him and ask him if he kep surpluses, and he sez as he didn't. I told him I could rent him one to put on theminister, and he hedn't thought fer to hev it an Episcopal show, but hesed he'd do it fer an ad fer his white goods. He wouldn't stand fer nodollar a day. He beat me down to three-fifty, but he throwed in a capfer Bud. 

"Next come Mrs. Hudgers. I didn't put it down in the ledger, though, cause it didn't bring nuthin' but a pan of doughnuts. Her son Halliedied, and he didn't hev no nice clo'es ter be laid out in, and she wasagoin' to hev quite a funyral, so jest afore folks come, she slipped thesurplus on ter him over his old clo'es, and then when 'twas over, shetook it offen him again. He made a swell lookin' corpse. Bein' aneighbor we didn't go fer to ask her nuthin', but she give us the nutcakes. They give her dyspepsy, anyhow. "

The muscles of John Meredith's face grew rigid in his endeavor tomaintain a serious expression. He had taken out a notebook at thebeginning of the interview to jot down the addresses, but he copiedAmarilly's comments as well, for the future entertainment of Colette. 

"'July 25 and 26. Mr. Derry Phillips, The Navarre. 2 dollers. Pade. ' Hepaints picters. He painted the surplus onto a man playin' on a orgin. "

She hesitated a moment, and then continued: "I'm agoin' to work reg'lurfer him instead of to the theayter. I'm agoin' to git his breakfast andclean his rooms. He'll pay me the same as I got. He's a sort ofeddicatin' me too. "

"Why, how is that, Amarilly?" asked John in perplexity. 

"He larnt me not to say 'et' and 'kin. '"

The rector's eyes twinkled. 

"And, " pursued Amarilly, after another moment of hesitancy, "he's larntme how to fix my hair. He says red hair is beautiful! He took me to arestyrant. "

John looked troubled at this statement, and felt that his call at thestudio would now be for a double purpose. 

"'July 27, '" resumed Amarilly. "'The Boarder. 25 cents. Pade. '"

"Why, what possible use could he have for a surplice?"

"He's akeepin' company with a young gal--Lily Rose--and she wanted hislikeness tooken sorter fancy-like, so he wuz took in the surplus, and hegot himself framed in a gilt and shell frame, and she hez it ahangin'over her bed. I didn't want no pay from him, cause he give us his moneywhen yours and Miss King's was gone, but he says as how it might bringhim luck in gittin' her, so I took a quarter of a dollar. 

"'July 29. Mister Vergil Washington. Reckter Colered Church. 1 doller. Pade. ' Some one stole his'n off en the clo'es-line, and he only hed one. 

"'July 31. Widder Hubbleston, 56 Wilkins St. 1 Doller. Pade. ' She gotmerried by an Episcopal minister, and he furgot his surplus, and thatwas all she hed hired him fer, so she rented our'n fer him, and Mr. Jimmels, her new husband, took it outen the minister's pay. Somethin'allers goes wrong to her weddin's. "

"Does she have them often?" interrupted John gravely. 

"Quite frequent. " "'Aug. 3, Mister Vedder, Ticket Seller to theTheayter. 1 doller. Pade. ' He wore it to a sheet and piller case party. I didn't want fer to take nuthin' from him, cause he give us money whenwe hed the fever, but he wouldn't hev it that way. 

"'Aug. 5. Pete Noyes. Gum. ' He's the boy what sells gum to the theayter. He was agoin' to a party whar you hev to be the name of a book. He worethe surplus so his name was the Little Minister. We took it out in gum--spruce and pepsin. Iry swallered his'n every time, and Miss Hudgers wasafeard he'd be stuck together inside. 

"'Aug. 9-23. Vawdevil Theayter. 5 dollers. Pade. ' They put it on fer asketch. 

"'Aug. 25. Mister Cotter. 25 cents. Pade. ' He's a brakeman friend of theBoarder. He wore it to a maskyrade. 

"'Aug. 27. Poleece. 35 cents. Pade. '"

"Police!" ejaculated John faintly. 

"Some one swiped it offen our clo'es-line, and when the police ketchedthe thief, we was subpenyed, or ma was. She got thirty-five cents, andall on us 'cept Iry went to hear her. "

"'Aug, 29. Bishop Thurber. 5 dollers. Pade. '"

"Bishop Thurber!" the name was repeated with the force of an expletive. 

"Seems to mind that more'n he did the police, " thought Amarilly. 

"It's quite a story, " she explained, "and though it was orful at thebeginnin' it come out all right, jest as the plays all do. I jestthought, I shouldn't hev put that down in the account, cause we giveback the five, so we didn't make nuthin' in a way. We wuz dead broke. Isuppose, " she ruminated, "you don't know jest how orful it is to bethat. "

"I don't, Amarilly, from my own experience, " replied Johnsympathetically, "but I can imagine how terrible it must be, and I amvery sorry--"

"Well, as long as it come out all right, it don't make no difference. We'd got to pay our rent or else git put out, and I was up a stump tillthe Boarder said to tackle a pawnshop. I didn't hev nuthin' but thesurplus to pawn, and I hated to pawn it on your account. "

"I don't care, my child, " was the fervent assurance, "where you took itas long as it helped you in your troubles. "

"Well, I was in a pawnshop, and the man was holdin' it up, and thebishop went by, and when he seen what it was he come in, and asked meall about it, and I told him. He took it worse than you do that I wouldpawn it, and to save it he lent me five dollers. Course I made him takethe surplus till I hed the money to git it outen hock, and when we wasable to pay fer it, Bud went arter it. Thar was a boy practicin' at thechurch next door, and he warn't singin' it right, and Bud he couldn'tkeep still noway, so he up and sings the soler, and when the man at theorgin hearn him, he fired the boy what was tryin' to sing, and hired Budin his place. He's agoin' to sing to a recital at Grace Church day arterto-morrer, and git ten dollers. And we air goin' to make Bud bank all hegits cause he ain't so strong as the rest of us. He may need it sometime. That's all the places the surplus went to. I guess I'll go outenthe costumin' business now, 'cause I'll be startin' in with Mr. Derrysoon. "

CHAPTER XVI

There was one little ominous cloud in the serene sky of Mrs. Jenkins'shappiness. She had nothing suitable for the occasion of the organrecital in the way of wearing apparel. 

"I feel as if gloves was due you, Bud, " she lamented, "but I kin'tafford 'em. I guess I kin put my hands under my mantilly, though, andfolks won't know. "

"She'd orter hev 'em, and she'd orter hev a new hat, too, " reflectedBud, and his song became a requiem. He manfully resolved to sacrificehis future to present needs and curtail the laundry fund. After somemeditation he called upon the bishop, and asked if he might have anadvance of half the amount he would receive for his solo. 

The bishop readily assented, but sought the reason for the request. 

"My mother is comin' to the recital, but she ain't got no fixin's. I'mgoin' to buy her a hat. "

"I am glad you think of your mother, my lad, but it would be well to letsome older person select it for you. My housekeeper--"

Bud's refusal was emphatic. He knew the kind of hat his mother wanted, and he had noted her quickly suppressed look of disappointment at thesombre hat donated by Mrs. Hudgers on the day of the police-courtattendance. 

Upon receiving the five dollars he went directly to the FashionEmporium, where the windows were filled with a heterogeneous assortmentof gayly trimmed hats, marked enticingly with former and present prices. 

"I want a hat kivered with flowers, " he announced. 

"Who for?" asked the young saleswoman. 

"For my mother. "

"How would you like a nice flower toque like this?" displaying aheadgear of modest forget-me-nots. 

"That's all faded. Ain't you got any red flowers? If you haven't, I knowa store where they keep 'em. "

The girl instantly sacrificed her ideas of what was fitting to thecertainty of a sale, and quickly produced a hat of green foliage fromwhich rose long-stemmed, nodding red poppies, "a creation marked down tothree-ninety-eight, " she informed him. 

"That's the kind! I'll take it and a pair of white gloves, too, ifyou've got some big ones fer a dollar. "

Bud hastened home with his purchases. His mother was quite overcome bythe sight of such finery. 

"I never thought to be dressed up again, " she exclaimed on the eventfulnight, "No one has bought me nuthin' to wear sence your pa died. I feellike I was some one outen a book. "

The entire family, save Iry, who was put to bed at a neighbor's, went tothe recital. The Boarder took Lily Rose, who was quite flustered at herfirst appearance with the family. 

John and Colette occupied a pew directly opposite the family. Mr. Vedderand Pete were also in attendance. 

When the bishop came from the vestry and walked down the aisle to hispew, his eyes fell upon the worn, seamed face of Bud's mother, the wearypatient eyes in such odd contrast to the youthful turban with itssmartly dancing flowers. Something stirred in his well-regulated heart, and he carefully wiped his glasses. 

At the signal from the choirmaster for the solo of the oratorio, Budarose. An atom of a boy he looked in the vast, vaulted chancel, and forthe first time he knew fear at the thought of singing. It was a terriblething, after all, to face this sea of staring, dancing people. Aslightning reaches to steel, the gay poppies nodding so nervously abovehis mother's white, anxious face sought the courage place within, andurged him on. He felt himself back in Clothes-line Park, alone with hismother and the blue sky. 

The little figure filled itself with a long, deep breath. The high, clear note merged into one with the notes of the chorus. It touched thetones of the accompaniment in harmony true, and swelled into grand, triumphant music. 

"He looks like he did arter the fever, " thought Amarilly anxiously. 

When he came down the aisle with the choir, the ethereal look had lefthis face, and he was again a happy little boy. He gave his mother a gaynod, and bestowed a wink upon the Boarder. He waited outside and thefamily wended their way homeward. 

There had not been time to bring in the clothes before leaving, but awilling neighborhood had guarded the premises for them, so Clothes-linePark was shrouded in a whiteness that looked ghostly in the moonlight. 

They made quite an affair of the evening in honor of Bud's song, andtheir introduction to Lily Rose. There were fried sausages, coffee, sandwiches, and pork cake. 

"The organist told me, " announced Bud at supper, "that he was agoin' totrain my voice, and I could be soloist at Grace Church and git fivedollars a Sunday, and after a while I could git ten. "

"You'll be a millynaire, " prophesied Bobby in awed tones. 

"Guess we'll be on Easy Street now, " shouted Cory. 

"We won't be nuthin' of the kind, " snapped Amarilly. "It's agoin' to allbe banked fer Bud. "

"I guess, " said Bud, in his quiet, little old-man way, "I'm the one tohev the say. I'm agoin' to give ma two dollars a week and bank therest. "

Meanwhile John was having an uncomfortable time as he walked home withColette. He had started on the trail of the surplice the day before. The"tenner" and the young ladies who had given the tableaux had beeninterviewed, but in neither case had the mysterious pocket beendiscovered. To-day he had visited the Beehive, but no one in the storehad paid any attention to the pocket, or knew of its existence. Coletteremained obdurate to his pleadings. She assumed that he was entirely toblame for the loss, and seemed to take a gleeful delight in showing himhow perverse and wilful she could be. To-night he found himself lessable than usual to cope with her caprices, so he began to talk ofimpersonal matters and dwelt upon the beauties of Bud's voice, and theastonishing way in which it had developed. 

She admitted that Bud's voice was indeed wonderful, but maintained thatMrs. Jenkins's poppy hat and white gloves had been far surpassing in theway of surprises. 

"Did you ever, John, see anything more shoutingly funny?"

"It wasn't funny, Colette, " he said wistfully, and he proceeded torelate the history of the hat as he had heard it from the bishop thatday. 

[Illustration: To-night he found himself less able than usual to copewith her caprices]

And though in the depths of her heart Colette was touched by the pathosof the purchase, she must needs tread again the feminine labyrinthinstead of following the more natural and open path. 

"Who was the young girl with the Boarder?" John next vouchsafed. 

"Why, Lily Rose, of course. The Lily for whom he 'sot for his likenessin the surplus. ' That awful surplice, " she burst forth in irritation atthe mere mention of the unfortunate word. "Some of these people musthave it. John, you don't half try to find it. "

"I am following out the list in order, " he assured her. "I shall go tosee Mrs. Hudgers to-morrow. "

"And the next one to her, " reminded Colette, "is Derry Phillips, Amarilly's new benefactor. She told me to-day that she had a note fromhim, asking her to begin work at the studio in a few days. "

"I have a double duty in my call there, " said John didactically. "If heis like some of the young artists I know, his studio will hardly be aproper place for Amarilly. "

"As it happens, " returned Colette coldly, "Derry Phillips, for all hisnonsense, is reported to be a true gentleman; but it would make nodifference with Amarilly if he were not. Her inherent goodness wouldcounteract the evil of any atmosphere. She can take care of his roomsuntil she is a little older. Then she can become a model. "

"Colette!" he exclaimed protestingly. 

"Why not?" she returned. "Why shouldn't Amarilly be a model, or go onthe stage? Neither place would be below her station in life. "

John sought refuge in utter silence which admonished and exasperatedColette far more than any reproof would have done. 

"You might as well go, if you have nothing to say, " she remarkedstiffly, as he lingered in the portico, evidently expecting aninvitation to enter. 

"I have _too_ much to say, Colette. "

Her sidelong glance noted his dejection, and her flagging spirits roseagain. 

"Too much, indeed, when you are so critical of what I say!"

"Colette, hear me!"

"No, I won't listen--never when you preach!"

"I don't mean to preach, Colette, but don't you think--"

"Good night, John, " she said, smiling. 

"Good night!" he echoed dolefully, but making no move to leave. "Colette, will you never tell me?"

"Yes, " she replied unexpectedly, with a dancing light in her beautifuleyes. 

"When?"

"When you restore to me what was in the pocket. "

CHAPTER XVII

Jason never sought the Golden Fleece with more unwearying perseverancethan John displayed in the pursuit of the lost article which Coletterefused to describe. His calls of inquiry didn't mean merely putting thequestion politely and taking his departure after receiving an answer. Itmeant, in the case of Mrs. Hudgers, a martyr's test of patience inlistening to the devious and manifold routes taken by her rheumaticpains; a rehearsal of the late lamented Hallie's idiosyncracies; thedetails of his last illness; his death; and his wearing of the surpliceat the obsequies. 

Throughout her harangue he preached patience unto himself and rememberedthat she was an old woman, desolate in her "lone lornness, " so hecounselled not, neither did he pray, but comforted her with thegentleness of voice and speech that won him a fond place in her memoryfor all time. 

"No, " she assured him decisively, as in departing he reminded her of hisoriginal question, "I didn't go fer to look in no pockit. I didn'tsuppose them things had pockits. "

Then the scene shifted to Derry Phillips's studio, and this visit wasfraught with more difficulties, for there was the case of Amarilly whichmust be approached delicately and with subtlety. 

After stating his errand concisely and receiving assurance that thepocket had not been examined, but that the model should be interviewedby him, John still lingered. 

"It's very kind in you to give employment to Amarilly, Mr. Phillips. "

Derry shook his head. 

"I am the one to be congratulated, Mr. Meredith. I really feelapologetic to Amarilly for accepting her services. They are soconscientiously and faithfully rendered that I feel she should be givena higher scope of work than she can find here. She is an honest, amusinglittle soul, and if by giving her employment I can encourage her desireto be industrious and earn something, I am very glad of the opportunityto do so. "

This was a long and serious observation for the gay-hearted Derry tomake, but he shrewdly fathomed the pastoral duty underlying theseemingly casual remark. 

John's keen perception recognized the sincerity in the ring of thepleasant young voice, and he was quite won by the boyish directness. Aninstinctive confidence moved him to extend the right hand of trust andfellowship. 

"You have been instructive as well as benevolent, " he remarkedsmilingly. "Two of Amarilly's errors of speech have been eradicated. "

The young Artist flushed in slight confusion, and then with a half-embarrassed laugh, he replied lightly: "Amarilly gave full measure ofcorrection in return. "

Responding to the nameless something in John that so insistently andirresistibly invited confidence, he related the little incident of theluncheon and her request in regard to temperate orders in the future. 

"And I don't mean to say, " he replied with winning frankness, "that itwas merely the request of a little scrub-girl that has kept me temperatethrough two months of vacation and temptation, but the guilelesssuggestion was the spark that fired the flame of a dormant desire tochange--certain conditions. "

John again extended his hand, this time in a remorseful spirit ofapology. 

Derry partially understood. 

"Amarilly has ardently interested friends, " he observed whimsically. "There was one Vedder, a solemn young German, here to-day in my littlemaid's interest. "

John's call upon the sable-hued preacher, Brother Washington, alsodemanded strategic approach. The question of pockets must be delicatelyhandled lest any reflection be cast upon the integrity of the race, andtheir known penchant for pockets. 

Brother Washington's sympathies were at once enlisted, however, when hescented a romance, for John became more confidential in this than in anyof his prior visitations, in his desire to propitiate. But his searchwas fruitless here as elsewhere, and he went away convinced that BrotherWashington had not tampered with the pocket. 

He went on to the house of the Reverend James Woodville, who hadperformed the marriage ceremony at the nuptials of Mrs. Jimmels, néeHubbleston. In this instance also no pocket had been discovered in thegarment, so John wended his discouraged way to the office of the BarlowTheatre. 

Mr. Vedder was likewise surprised to learn that surplices possessedpockets. 

The young rector's face brightened at the next name on his list--PeteNoyes. Of course a boy and a pocket would not long remain unacquainted. Again he was doomed to disappointment. Pete's dismay when he learnedthat there had been an overlooked pocket was convincingly genuine. 

"You see, " he explained, "I wore it over my pants, of course, and I hadthe pockets in them, so I didn't look for no more. "

Pete escorted the rector to the "Vawdyville, " and by good fortune theclerical impersonator in the sketch was still on the board, though in adifferent act. He instantly and decidedly disclaimed all knowledge of apocket. 

"It's like that game, " grinned Pete. "Button, button, who's got thebutton?"

"Yes, " agreed John, with a sigh, "only in this case I fear I shallcontinue to be 'it. '"

The brakeman, when he came in from his run, was located and he joined inthe blockade that was conspiring against John's future happiness. 

The clothes-line thief was very sensitive on the subject, and feltgreatly aggrieved that he should be accused of picking his own pocket, for he protested that he had "found" the garment. The fanciedinsinuation indeed was so strongly resented that John wondered if itmight not be a proverbial case of "hit birds flutter. "

Neither police nor court of justice had examined the pocket; nor hadthey been aware of the existence of one. The bishop could throw no lighton the missing article, and this call ended the successless tour ofinvestigation. 

"It was truly a profitable investment for the Jenkins family, " thoughtJohn, "but a sorry one for me. "

Having now wended his weary and unavailing way into all the placeslisted, John made his final report to Colette who remained adamant inher resolve. 

"Of course some of those people did find it, " she maintained. "It standsto reason they must have done so, and it is up to you now to find outwhich one of them is the guilty person. "

"How can I find that out, Colette?"

"How? Anyhow!" she replied, her mien betraying great triumph at herpowers of logic. 

"It must be found!" she asserted with a distinct air of finality. "Anduntil it is found--"

She stopped abruptly. 

"Was it of value? No, I am not trying to find out what it was since youdon't wish me to know, but if I knew its value, it might help me todecide who would be the most likely to have a motive for taking it. Butmy belief is that the article slipped from the pocket and is lost. "

"It must be found then" she persisted obstinately. 

John went home to ponder over his hopeless task. It remained forAmarilly with her optimistic spirit to cheer him. 

"It'll turn up some place whar you never looked fer it and when youain't thinkin' nuthin' about it, " she asserted believingly. "Lost thingsallers do. "

Despite her philosophy she was greatly distressed over the disappearanceof the mysterious article whose loss was keeping John so unhappy. Sheransacked the house from the cellar to the Boarder's room, but found notrace of it. 

"I wonder what it was, " she mused. 

"Mebby Miss King dreamt she put something in there, and when could shehave done it anyhow? Mebby she give him a present, and he slipped it inthere and fergot to take it out when he sent it to us. But then it wouldhave come out in the wash. She don't seem to feel so bad as he does--jest sorter stubborn about it. "

The members of the household were put through the third degree, but eachdeclared his innocence in the matter. 

"'Twas most likely Iry took it, " said Cory, who found the baby aconvenient loophole for any accusations, "and most likely he hezswallered it. "

Gus persisted in his oft-repeated statement, that there was nothing inthe pocket when it was hung up during quarantine. This assurance wasconveyed to Colette by John, who hoped she might find solace in thethought that none of the renters could have had it, if this were true, but to his chagrin she found in his information an implied reflection onher veracity. 

"Colette, " he said whimsically, "only three persons connected with thisaffair have taken my remarks as personal, you, Brother Washington, andthe thief. "

With this remark John, despairing of his ability to fathom the mysteryof the article or to follow the caprices of Colette, dropped the mattercompletely. 

CHAPTER XVIII

At half past eight on the morning indicated, Amarilly's ring at the doorof the studio was answered by Derry, whose face was covered with lather. 

"Hello, Amarilly!" he exclaimed heartily, extending his hand in genialcomradeship. "I am glad to see you again. Been pretty well through thesummer? Well, come on into the butler's pantry, and see what you can doin a coffee way while I finish shaving. "

Amarilly had been receiving instruction in domestic science, includingtable service, at the Guild school. Colette, interested in the studiowork, had provided some minute muslin aprons and a little patch of linenfor the head covering of the young waitress, advising her that she mustwear them while serving breakfast. So when Derry emerged from hisdressing-room, a trimly equipped little maid stood proudly and anxiouslyawaiting him. 

"Why, bless your heart, Amarilly! I feel really domesticated. You lookas natty as a new penny, and the little white cap is great on your hair. I see you have remembered how to fix it. "

"Thank you, Mr. Derry, but please sit down while your coffee is hot. "

"'Deed I will, and if it tastes as good as it smells, I shall raise yourremuneration. "

He pronounced the coffee delicious, the grapefruit fixed to his liking, the toast crisp, and the eggs boiled just to the right consistency. 

"And have you had breakfast, Amarilly?"

"Yes, Mr. Derry, at half past five. "

"Jiminy! you should be ready for another. Now talk to me while I eat. Tell me about your reverend friend who was so daffy on the subject ofpockets. Has he located any yet?"

Amarilly looked troubled. 

"Miss King said I wa'n't to talk to you while I was serving. "

"Tell Miss King with Mr. Phillips' compliments that artists are notconventional, and that you and I are not in the relation to each otherof master and maid. We are good friends, and quite _en famille_. You aresuch a fine cook, I think I shall have you serve me luncheon at oneo'clock. Can you?" "Oh, yes; I should love to, Mr. Derry. "

"I'll stock the larder, then. No; I can't be bothered, and I'd feel toomuch like a family man if I went about marketing. I'll give you _carteblanche_ to order what you will. "

"What's that, Mr. Derry?"

"Good! We mustn't neglect your education. I am glad you asked me. Youmight have always supposed it a breakfast-food. "

He proceeded to explain elaborately what the words meant, and then askedher if she had remembered her previous lesson. 

"Yes; ain't you--goin'--"

"Stop right there. Your next word to be eliminated is 'ain't. ' You mustsay 'aren't' or 'isn't. ' And you must remember to put 'g' on the end ofevery word ending in 'ing. ' Don't let me hear you say 'goin', again, I'll teach you one new word every day now. You see the measure of a maidis her pure English. "

Amarilly looked distressed. 

"What's the matter, Amarilly? Don't you want to learn to speakproperly?"

"Yes, I do, Mr. Derry; but Miss King--she don't want me to speakdiff'rent. She likes to hear me talk ignorant, and she said she wasafeard you'd make me brom--"

"Brom?" he repeated. 

"There was some more to it, but I fergit. "

"Bromidic, " he said triumphantly, after an instant's pondering. "You cannever under any circumstances be that, and I shall develop yourimagination and artistic temperament at the same time. Miss King isselfish to wish to keep you from cultivating yourself for the purpose offurnishing her entertainment. By the way, I am to meet her to-night at adinner, and I think we shall have a mutual subject for conversation. Imust get to work, now. Clear away the dishes. And finish the rest ofthis toast and coffee. It would be wicked to waste it. "

Amarilly substituted a work apron for the little white covering, and wassoon engaged in "redding. "

At eleven o'clock the place was in perfect order, and she went into thestudio where Deny was at work. 

"Shall I go get the things fer lunch?"

"Luncheon, if you please, Amarilly. I like that word better. It seems tomean daintier things. Here's a five-dollar bill. Get what you considerproper for a simple little home luncheon, you know. Nothing elaborate. "

Amarilly, feeling but not betraying her utter inability to construct themenu for a "simple little home luncheon, " walked despondently down thestreet. 

"The Boarder, " she reflected, "takes bread and meat and hard biled eggswhen they ain't--aren't too high, and pie when we hev it. "

Some vague instinct of the fitness of things warned her that this wouldnot be a suitable repast for Derry. Then a light shone through herdarkness. 

"I'll telephone Miss Vail, " she decided. 

So she called up her teacher at the Guild, and explained the situation. She received full instructions, made her purchases, and went back to thestudio. 

At one o'clock she again garbed herself in cap and apron and calledDerry to a luncheon which consisted of bouillon, chops, French peas, rolls, a salad, and black tea served with lemon. 

"Amarilly, " he announced solemnly, "you are surely the reincarnation ofa chef. You are immediately promoted from housemaid to housekeeper withfull charge over my cuisine, and your wages doubled. "

"And that's going some for one day!" Amarilly gleefully announced to thefamily circle that night. 

Her teacher, greatly interested and gratified at her pupil's ability toput her instruction to practical use and profit, made out on each Mondaya menu for the entire week. She also gave her special coaching insetting table and serving, so Derry's domestic life became a thing ofpride to himself and his coterie of artists. He gave little luncheonsand studio teas in his apartments, Amarilly achieving great success inher double role of cook and waitress. 

Her work was not only profitable financially, but it developed newtastes and tendencies. Every day there was the new word eagerly graspedand faithfully remembered. "Fer, " "set, " "spile, " "orter, " and the likewere gradually entirely eliminated from her vocabulary. Unconsciouslyshe acquired "atmosphere" from her environment. In her spare momentsAmarilly read aloud to Derry, while he painted, he choosing the book atrandom from his library. 

"I want to use you for a model this afternoon, " he remarked one day asshe was about to depart. "Braid your hair just as tight as you can, theway you had it the first day you came. Put on your high-necked, long-sleeved apron, and get it wet and soapy as it was that first day, andthen come back to the studio with your scrubbing brush and pail. "

Amarilly did as she was bidden with a reluctance which the artist, absorbed in his preparations for work, did not notice. 

"Yes; that's fine, " he said, glancing up as she came to him. "Now getdown here on your knees by the--what kind of boards did you call them, Amarilly? Mopboards? Yes, that was it. Now try and put your whole mindon the memory of the horror you felt at the accumulation of dirt on thatfirst day, and begin to scrub. Turn your head slightly toward me, tiltedjust a little--so--There, that's fine! Keep that position just as longand just as well as you possibly can. "

Derry began to paint, mechanically at first, and then as he warmed tohis subject and became interested in his conception, with rapidity andabsorption. 

"There!" he finally exclaimed, "you can rest now! This may be my chef-d'oeuvre, after all, Amarilly. Won't you be proud to be well hung in theAcademy and have a group constantly before your picture. Why, what's thematter, child, " springing to her side, "tears? I forgot it was yourfirst experience in posing. Why didn't you tell me you were tired?"

"I wan't tired, " she half sobbed. 

"Well, what is it? Tell me. "

"I'm afeerd you'll laugh at me. "

"Not on your life! And your word for to-day, Amarilly, is afraid. Remember. Never _afeerd_. "

"I'll remember, " promised Amarilly meekly, as she wiped her dewy eyes. 

"Now tell me directly, what is the matter. "

"It'll be such a humbly picture with my hair that way. I'd ought to lookmy best. I'd rather you'd paint me waiting on your table. "

"But a waitress is such a trite subject. It would be what your friend, Imean, our friend, Miss King, calls bromidic. An artist, a real artist, with a soul, Amarilly, doesn't look for pretty subjects. It's the truththat he seeks. To paint things as they are is what he aims to do. Alittle scrub-girl appeals to the artistic temperament more than a littlewaitress, don't you think? But only you, Amarilly, could look the partof the Little Scrub-Girl as you did. And it would be incongruous--remember the word, please, Amarilly, in-con-gru-ous--to paint her withstylishly dressed hair. You posed so easily, so perfectly, and yourexpression was so precisely the one I wanted, and your patience inkeeping the pose was so wonderful, that I thought you had really caughtthe spirit of the thing, and were anxious to help me achieve my reallygreat picture. "

"I have--I will pose for you as long as you wish, " she cried penitently, "and I will braid my hair on wire, and then it will stand out better. "

"Good! You are a dear, amenable little girl. To-morrow afternoon we willresume. Here, let me loosen your braids. Goodness, what thick strands!"

She stood by the open window, and the trembling, marginal lights of asetting sun sent gleams and glints of gold through her loosened hairwhich fell like a flaming veil about her. 

"Amarilly, " exclaimed Derry rapturously, "I never saw anything quite sobeautiful. Some day I'll paint you, not as a scrub-girl nor as awaitress, but as Sunset. You shall stand at this window with your hairas it is now, and you'll outshine the glory of descending Sol himself. Iwill get a filmy, white dress for you to pose in and present it to youafterward. And as you half turn your head toward the window, you musthave a dreamy, reflective expression! You must think of something sad, something that might have been a tragedy but for some mitigating--butthere, you don't know what I am talking about!"

"Yes, I do, Mr. Derry. I know what you mean, even if I didn't ketch--"

"Catch, Amarilly; not ketch. "

"But my word for to-day is 'afraid, '" she said stubbornly. "I wasn't tohave but one word a day. I'll say 'ketch' until to-morrow. "

"Oh, Amarilly, such system as you have! You are right though; but tellme what it was I meant. " "You mean I am to think of something awful thatwould have been more awful but for something nice that happened. I'llthink of the day last summer when we couldn't pay the rent. That was saduntil the bishop came along and things got brighter. "

"Exactly. You have the temperament, Amarilly, but you should havewritten to your twin brother in such a dilemma. It's late now, or itwill be when you get home. I am going to walk with you. "

"No; I am not afraid. "

"It makes no difference; I am going with you. To think that, intimatefriends as we are, I have never seen your home, your numerous brothers, and the Boarder. I am going to spend the evening with you. "

"Oh, no!" she protested, appalled at the prospect. "You mustn't. "

"Why, Amarilly, how inhospitable you are! I thought you would bepleased. "

"I guess you couldn't stand for it. "

"Stand for what, Amarilly?"

"Why, you see, I am not ashamed of it, but it's so diff'rent from whatyou're used to, and you wouldn't like it, and I'd feel uncomfortablelike with you there. " "Why, Amarilly!" A really pained look came intohis boyish eyes. "I thought we were friends. And you let Miss King andyour minister come--"

"But you see, " argued Amarilly, "it's diff'rent with them. A ministerhas to go everywhere, and he's used to seeing all kinds of houses; andthen Miss King, she's a sort of a--settlement worker. "

"I see, " said Derry. "But, Amarilly, to be a true artist, or a writer, one must see all sorts and conditions of life. But I am not coming forthat. I am coming because I like you and want to meet your family. "

"Well, " agreed Amarilly, resigned, but playing her last trump, "youhaven't had your dinner yet. "

"We had a very late luncheon, if you remember, and I am invited to asupper after the theatre to-night, so I am not dining. "

Amarilly did not respond to his light flow of chatter on the way home. She halted on the threshold of her home, and looked at him with despairin her honest young eyes. 

"Our house hasn't got any insides or any stairs even. Just a ladder. "

"Good! I knew you wouldn't--that you couldn't have a house like anyone'selse. It sounds interesting and artistic. Open your door to me, Amarilly. "

Slowly she opened the door, and drew a sigh of relief. The big room was"tidied" ("redded" having been censored by Derry some time ago) and avery peaceful, homelike atmosphere prevailed. The Boarder, being anamateur carpenter, had made a very long table about which were groupedthe entire family. Her mother was darning socks; the Boarder, readingthe paper preliminary to his evening call on Lily Rose; the boys, busywith books and games; Cory, rocking her doll to sleep. 

Their entrance made quite a little commotion. There was a scattering ofboys from the table until Derry called "Halt" in stentorian tones. "Ifthere's any gap in the circle, I shall go. "

Then he joined the group, and described to the boys a prize-fight sographically that their eyes fastened on him with the gaze of onewitnessing the event itself. He praised Amarilly to the mother, gaveCory a "tin penny" which she at once recognized as a silver quarter, andtalked politics so eloquently with the Boarder that for once he wasloath to leave when the hour of seven-thirty arrived. 

"You've gotter go now, " reminded Cory sternly. "You see, " turning toDerry. "he's gotter go and spend his ev'nin' with Lily Rose. She's hisgal. "

"Oh! Well, why not bring her here to spend the evening?" suggestedDerry. "Then you'll have an excuse for two nice walks and an eveningthrown in. "

"That's a fine, idee!" acknowledged the Boarder with a sheepish grin. 

He at once set out on his quest accompanied by Bobby, whom Derry haddispatched to the corner grocery for a supply of candy and peanuts. 

The Boarder and Lily Rose came in laden with refreshments. The Boarderbore a jug of cider "right on the turn, " he declared, "so it stings yourthroat agoin' down. "

Lily Rose had brought a bag of sugared doughnuts which she had made thatafternoon (a half holiday) in her landlady's kitchen. 

When Mrs. Jenkins learned from Amarilly that Derry and she had hadnothing to eat since half past one, she brought forth a pan of beans anda pumpkin pie, and they had a genuine New England supper. The Boarderrecited thrilling tales of railroad wrecks. Derry listened to a solo byBud, whose wild-honeyed voice was entrancing to the young artist. Altogether they were a jolly little party, Lily Rose saying little, butlooking and listening with animated eyes. Mrs. Jenkins declaredafterwards that it was the time of her life. 

"Amarilly, " said Derry, as he was taking leave, "I wouldn't have missedthis evening for any other engagement I might have made. "

"That's because it was something new to you, " said Amarilly sagely. "Youwouldn't like it for keeps. "

CHAPTER XIX

When Cory secured a place as dish-wiper at a new boarding-house near, and Gus realized that he and Iry alone were dependent upon the othersfor their keep, shame seared his young soul. He had vainly tried tosecure steady employment, but had succeeded only in getting occasionalodd jobs. He had a distinct leaning towards an agricultural life andcoveted the care of cows. 

"The grocer has sold his'n, " he lugubriously lamented; "thar ain't noone else as wants a caretaker for their critters around here. "

After a long rumination on the discouraging problem of his future, hesought his confessor, the corner grocer. 

"I'm too big to peddle papers or be runnin' about with telergrafs, " hedeclared. "I'd orter be goin' into business on my own account. I ain'tgoin' ter be allers workin' fer other folks. "

"Well, you'll have to wait a while before you can work for yourself, "counselled his confidant. "You are young yet. "

"This is a hurry-up age, " was the sagacious assertion, "and ef you airagoin' to git any-whar, you've got ter go by wire instead of by mail, and you can't start too soon. "

"You can't start nothing without capital, " argued the grocerconservatively. 

"Oh, " admitted the young financier, "a little capital mebby. I've got adollar I've saved up from odd jobs. "

"What line was you thinking of taking up?"

"I'm going into the dairy business. Thar's money in milk and butter, andit's nice, clean work. "

"The dairy business on one dollar! How many cows and wagons and horseswas you figuring on buying with your dollar?"

"Don't git funny, " warned Gus impatiently. "Some day I'll hev a farm ofmy own and a city office, but I'll begin on one cow in our back lot andpeddle milk to the neighbors. "

"That wouldn't be a bad beginning, but I reckon you'll find the startwill cost you more than a dollar. You can't get a cow at that figure. "

"Then I'll start with a calf. "

"Well, I guess calves cost more than a dollar. "

"Say, you've got that dollar on the brain, I guess, " retorted the ladwith the easy familiarity that betokened long acquaintance with thelounging barrels and boxes of the corner grocery. "I bet it'll build ashed in our back yard. Thar's the lumber out of our shed that bloweddown, and the Boarder can build purty near anything. "

"But how are you going to buy a cow?" persisted his inquisitor. 

"I ain't got that fer yet, " admitted the young dairyman. 

"Your dollar'll buy more than the nails for your cow-house. You can putthe balance into feed, " said the grocer, with an eye to his own trade. 

He wanted to add that it wouldn't cost much to feed an imaginarycritter, but he was a little fearful of the temper back of the lad'shair, which was the same hue as Amarilly's. 

"That's a good idea. Well, the shed starts to-morrow, and of course youwon't say nothin' about it. "

"Trust me for not talking in this neighborhood. It ain't safe even tothink. First you know your thoughts are being megaphoned down thestreet. "

Gus consulted the Boarder who instantly and obligingly began theerection of a building in the farthest corner of the Jenkins's domain. This structure was a source of mystery and excitement to the neighbors. 

"What on airth do you suppose them Jenkinses air aputtin' up now? Mebbyit's a wash-house for the surpluses, " speculated Mrs. Huce. 

"It can't be they air agoin' to keep a hoss!" ejaculated Mrs. Wint. 

"You never kin tell nuthin' about them Jenkinses. They're so sort ofsecretin' like, " lamented Mrs. Hudgers. 

The Jenkins family were fully as ignorant as were their neighbors of thenature of the contemplated occupant of the new edifice commonly referredto as the "cow-house, " The Boarder put up a very substantial shed with afour-paned window and a door that locked though not very securely. Thegrocer had on hand a small quantity of green paint which he donated tothe cause of the coming cow. 

"Thar ain't enough to more'n paint two sides of it, " criticized Gus, "soI'll paint the front and west sides. "

"Thar's a can of yaller paint out in the woodshed, " informed Mrs. Jenkins. "You can paint the other two sides with that. "

Then the Boarder made a suggestion:

"If I was you, I'd paint a strip of yaller and then one of green. That'll even it up and make it fancy-like. "

Amarilly protested against this combination of colors so repellent toartistic eyes, but the family all agreed that it "would be perficklyswell, " so she withdrew her opposition and confided her grievance toDerry's sympathizing, shuddering ears. 

Gus proceeded to bicolor the shed in stripes which gave the new buildinga bedizened and bilious effect that delighted Colette, who revelled inthe annals of her protegés. 

Each member of the Jenkins family had a plan for utilising this finedomicile, as there seemed to be a general feeling of skepticismregarding the ability of Gus to produce a cow in the flesh. Thissentiment, however, was not openly expressed, as the lad was found to bedecidedly sensitive and touchy on the subject. 

"Mebby a cow'll jest walk right into the back yard and make herself tohum in the new shed, " prognosticated Mrs. Jenkins optimistically. "It'ssuch a beautiful place. I'll bet there is cows as would ef they knowedabout it. "

"I perpose, " suggested Flamingus patronizingly, "that we start a cowfund and all chip in and help Gus out. "

"Sure thing!" declared the generous Amarilly. "He can have all mysavings. We ought to all help Gus get a start. "

"I'm in, " cried Bobby. 

"You kin hev all you want from me, Gus, " offered Bud. 

Firmly and disdainfully Gus rejected all these offers and suggestions. 

"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'magoin' 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 arterall. "

This use of the new building had been the fondest dream of Mrs. 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 alreadyappropriated 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. ForBud she possibly had a more tender, maternal feeling on account of hisbeing so delicate. She paid homage to the good points of Flamingus, buthe was too cut and dried, "bromidic, " she classified him, for Derry hadcarefully explained the etymology of the word. Milt was honest, butselfish and "near. " Bobby was disposed to be fresh, but Gus was justsuch a boy as Amarilly herself would have been, reincarnated. He waspractical, industrious, thrifty, and shrewd, and yet possessed of theimagination and optimism of his sister. She called him aside one day fora private consultation. 

"Say, Gus, your scheme's all right. Go ahead and get your cow. I'll letyou have my savings, and the other boys needn't know. You can pay mewhen you get ready to. "

"That's bully in you, Amarilly, but I'm agoin' to see this thing throughalone and start in without no help front no one, " firmly refused Gus, and his sturdy little sister could but admire him for his independence. 

He locked up his new possession very carefully, putting the key in hispocket every morning before going to the business precincts to pick up ajob. The children, however, were not dispossessed by this precaution, finding ingress and egress through the window. Gus most opportunelysecured a week's job driving a delivery-wagon, and he instantly investedhis wages in the provisioning of the cow quarters. 

"The feed'll git stale by the time the cow comes, " objected Milt. 

"Mebby it's fer bait to ketch a critter with, " offered Bobby. 

After all, it was the miracle predicted by Mrs. Jenkins that came topass and delivered the cow. Early one morning, when Gus went as usualwith fond pride to view his sole asset, he found installed therein ayoung, corpulent cow, bland and Texas-horned, busily engaged inpartaking of the proceeds of Gus's last week's wages. She turnedinquiring, meditative eyes toward the delighted lad, who promptly lockedthe door and rushed into the house to inform the family of the newarrival. 

"She's lost or strayed, but not stolen, " said Amarilly. 

"Bobby, you put an ad in that paper you deliver at once, " commanded Mrs. Jenkins. "Some poor people air feelin' bad over the loss of their cow. "

It was considered only fair that the cow should pay for her meal. Shewas overstocked with milk, and graciously and gratefully yielded toGus's efforts to relieve her of her load. The children were each given ataste of the warm milk, and then the little dairyman started right infor business. The milkman had not yet made his morning rounds, and theneighbors were so anxious to cross-examine Gus that they were more thanwilling to patronize him. Excitement prevailed when it was learned thatthe Jenkins family had a cow, and the lad's ingenuity in dodgingquestions was severely taxed. He avoided direct replies, but finallyadmitted that it was "one they was keepin' fer some folks. "

A week went by, with no claim filed for the animal that had come somysteriously and seemed so perfectly at home. Gus established apermanent milk route in the immediate neighborhood, and with his abilityonce more to "bring in" came the restoration of his self-respect. 

"It's funny we don't git no answer to that ad, " mused Mrs. Jenkinsperplexedly. "How many times did you run it, Bobby?"

For a moment silence, deep, profound, and charged with expectancyprevailed. Then like a bomb came Bobby's reply:

"I ain't put it in at all. "

Everybody was vociferous in condemnation, but Bobby, unabashed, held hisground, and logically defended his action. 

"I got the news-agent to look in the 'losts' every night, and thar wantnothin' about no cow. 'Twas up to them as lost it to advertise insteadof us. If they didn't want her bad enough to run an ad, they couldn'thev missed her very much. "

"That's so, " agreed the Boarder, convinced by Bobby's able argument. 

"Most likely she doesn't belong to any one, " was Amarilly's theory. "Shejust came to stay a while, and then she'll go away again. "

"She won't git no chanst to 'scape, unless she kin go out the way thechillern does, " laughed Mrs. Jenkins. 

One day the Boarder brought home some information that seemed to throwlight on the subject. 

"One of the railroad hands told me that a big train of cattle wassidetracked up this way somewhar the same night the cow come here. Thewhole keerload got loose, but they ketched them all, or thought theydid. Mebby they didn't miss this ere one, or else they couldn't wait tolook her up. Their train pulled out as soon as they rounded up thebunch. "

"I guess the cow-house looked to her like it was a freight car, "observed Milt, "and she thought she hed got back where she belonged. "

The cow, meanwhile, quietly chewed her cud, and continued to endearherself to the hearts of all the Jenkins family save Cory. Every timeBobby spoke her name he called to her, "Co, boss! Co, boss, " just as Gusdid when he greeted the cow. 

As for the little dairyman himself, he gave his charge the best of care. He took her for a little outing every day to a near-by lot where shecould graze, being careful to keep a stout rope attached to her, although they walked to and from the recreation ground side by side. Derry painted a little picture of the pair as he saw them returning froma jaunt. Gus's arm was lovingly thrown around the neck of the gentlecreature, and her Texas horns were adorned with a wreath of brown-eyedSusans woven by Cory. 

It remained for Mrs. Jenkins to christen the creature. 

"'Cowslip, '" she declared triumphantly, "'cause she just slipped in. "

CHAPTER XX

Amarilly's pace in learning English from Derry during the followingwinter was only excelled by her proficiency in mathematics. "Figgerin'"the Boarder declared to be his long suit, and his young pupil workedevery example in Flamingus's arithmetic, and employed her leisuremoments in solving imaginary problems. Then came an evening when she puther knowledge to practical use and application. She had been workingabsorbedly with pencil and paper for some time when she looked up fromher sheet of figures with a flushed race and a Q. E. D. Written in eachshining eye. 

"Say!" she announced to the family who were gathered about the longtable. 

Instantly they were all attention, for they always looked to Amarillyfor something startling in the way of bulletins. 

"I've been setting down and adding up what we all bring in each week. Ma's washings, the Boarder's board, my studio work, Flamingus' andMilt's wages, Gus's cow, Bud's singing, Co's dish-washing, and Bobby'spapers. What do you suppose it all amounts to?"

She allowed a few seconds of tragic silence to ensue before she gave theelectrifying total. 

"Land sakes! Who'd 'a thought it!" exclaimed 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 asyndicate. "

"What's that, a show?" demanded Flamingus. 

"No; I heard the artists down to the studio talking about it, and Mr. Derry explained it. He said when a lot of folks put their cash on handtogether in one pile, they can buy something big and do more than as ifthey spent it separate. "

"Well, I ain't a goin' to put my money in with Co's, " said Miltsarcastically. "Wouldn't be much profit for me in that. "

"You don't catch on, " replied Amarilly. "If you should put in onedollar, and Co should put in ten cents, at the end of a certain time, you'd draw out ten dollars and Co would only draw out one. See?"

"I do, " said the practical Gus. 

"Well, now let's put our money into something and all own it together, each one's share according to what we put in. Let's buy this house!"

They all stared in amazement. 

"Buy a house! You are sure crazy, Amarilly!" exclaimed Milt. 

"We could buy it cheap, " continued Amarilly unabashed. "I heard thegrocer saying yesterday that property around here was at a low figurenow. We could put our savings together and make a payment down, andinstead of paying rent let it go on the balance each month. Before weknew it we'd own the house, and the deed could be made out to show howmuch of it each one owned. "

"I choose the pantry!" cried Cory. 

"I guess if you could buy a window-pane with what you've got, you'd dowell, " observed Milt in a withering tone. 

"That's a splendid idee, Amarilly!" declared the Boarderenthusiastically. "I don't know what better investment you could make. "

"It would be fine, " sighed Mrs. Jenkins, "to own your own place and feelthat no one could turn you out. "

"You've got a great head, Amarilly, " complimented Gus. 

"We could borrow on the house if we ever got hard up, or the feverstruck us again, " said Flamingus. 

"Well, " proposed Amarilly, the ever-ready, "let's get right at it. I'llset down our names, and when I call the roll, tell me how much you'vesaved and will put in the house. "

There was a general rush for bank-books, for ever since the precedingfall, the six oldest children had paid their board, clothed themselves, and saved the balance of their earnings. 

From her washings, the revenue from the board of the children andBoarder, Mrs. Jenkins had paid the rent and the household expenses. Bythrifty management she had also acquired a bank account herself. 

"Ma!" called Amarilly expectantly. 

There had been much urging on the part of

Deny in his zeal for language reform to induce his young pupil to say"mother, " but in this sole instance Amarilly had refused to take hiswill for law. 

"She's always been 'ma' to me, and she always will be, " declaredAmarilly emphatically. "If I were to call her anything else I'd feel asif I had lost her--as if she didn't belong to me. "

Ma triumphantly announced: "Forty-seven dollars and fifty-one cents. "

"A fine starter, " commended Amarilly, "Flamingus?"

"Forty dollars, " he announced with pride. 

"Milt?" Amarilly called his name in faint voice. He was the only tight-tendencied member of the household, and she feared he might decline togive. But Milt was envious and emulative. 

"Forty-two dollars and sixty-nine cents, " he declared in a voicerendered triumphant by the fact of his having beaten Flam. 

Amarilly drew a sigh of relief. 

"It's going to add up fine, now. Guess I'll take my own account next. Ihaven't got as much as you boys, though. " "Shouldn't think you wouldhave, " said Gus sympathizingly. "You don't earn so much, and yet you payma as much, and don't take out nuthin' fer your noon meal. And you giveCo things. "

"I've earned quite a bit, " replied Amarilly cheerfully. "Besides whatMr. Derry gives me, there's what I've had from odd jobs like letting theartists paint my hair, and taking care of Mrs. Wick's baby afternoonswhen she goes to card parties. I've got thirty dollars to put in. Gus?"

"Thirty-five dollars, " he replied in a pleased tone. 

"Bud?"

They all looked expectantly. Bud received ten dollars each Sunday now, and he had been singing at concerts, organ recitals, and entertainmentsall winter. On account of these latter engagements, he had been obligedto expend a considerable amount in clothes suitable to the occasion. When Bud donned his "evening clothes, " which consisted of black silkhose, patent leather pumps, black velvet suit with Irish crochet collarand cuffs, purchased under the direction of Mr. Derry, Amarilly alwaysfelt uncomfortable. 

"Don't seem fair to Bobby when they're so near twins, " she thought. 

One day, however, she overheard Bud sweetly offer to buy his near half asimilar outfit. Amarilly listened eagerly for Bobby's answer whichbrought a sigh of relief. 

"I wouldn't wear one of them rigs on a bet, " he had scoffingly answered. 

"One hundred and twenty-five dollars, " Bud now replied modestly. 

"Gee! you take the cake!" said Bobby. 

Amarilly was sorry that she had to call Bobby's name next. But Bobby hada surprise in store for them all. 

"Forty-eight dollars!" he cried gleefully, giving Flam, Milt and Gusexultant glances, "Beat the hull of ye, except Bud!"

"How in the world did you ever do it on paper routes?" asked Amarillywonderingly. 

Bobby winked at his mother. 

"Shall we tell our secret?" he asked. "You tell, Ma. "

"You see, " she explained, "when the clo'es are bilin' arter you hev allgone to work and to school, I've made twenty little pies and when Bobbygot out of school, he'd come hum and git 'em and take 'em up to the HighSchool. The girls bought 'em at five cents apiece. The stuff to make 'emcost about two cents a pie. "

"And Bobby got all the profit!" expostulated Milt indignantly. 

"Bobby paid me by taking the clo'es offen the line and bringin' them inevery night, and fetchin' the water, " she replied chidingly. "We wasgoin' to keep it a secret till he got enough to buy a pony. "

"But I'd ruther buy a house, " said Bobby. 

"I ain't got enough to come in no snidikit, " sobbed Co. "I ain't savedmuch. "

"That's because you spend all you earn on candy, " rebuked Milt. 

"I ain't nuther. I bought me some rubbers and Iry some playthings. "

"How much have you got, Co?" asked Amarilly gently. 

"Two dollars and ninety-seven cents, " she said, weeping profusely. 

"I think that's pretty good for a little girl, " said Amarilly. "All youstrapping boys ought to chip in out of your cash on hand what isn't inthe bank and give her some so she could be in on it. Here is fifty centsfrom me, Co. "

"I'll give you fifty, Co, " said her mother. 

"Me, too, " said Flamingus. 

The other boys followed with equal contributions, Bud generouslydonating a five-dollar bill he had received that day for a solo at amusicale given by Miss Lyte. 

"Here's fifty cents from me, " said the Boarder, who had remained verythoughtful during this transaction. 

"Eleven dollars and forty-seven cents for Co, " announced Amarilly. 

The little girl's eyes shone through her tears. 

"Seems too bad that Iry is the only one left out, " said Mrs. Jenkins. 

"When he gits old enough to work, he can come in, " said Milt. "Add herup, Amarilly. "

"Three hundred and sixty-nine dollars and sixty-seven cents!" almostscreamed Amarilly. 

"Gee!" chorused the boys. 

"Purty near buy the old shack, " said Flamingus. 

"Our landlord, " said Amarilly sagaciously, "is a shark, and he'll try toget the best of us. I am going to get Mr. Vedder to do the business forus, and he'll get the deed in all our names. "

"Put in Iry's too, " pleaded Mrs. Jenkins solicitous for her Benjamin. 

"I'll put it to vote, " said parliamentary Amarilly. "Who's for Iry?"

"Me, me, me, " came from all, though Milt's response was reluctant. 

"I will see Mr. Vedder to-morrow, so we can begin to let the rent applyright off, " said Amarilly. 

"We'll take more pride in keeping it fixed up now, " remarked Flamingus. "I'll mend the windowpanes and the door hinges. "

"And I'll build some stairs and put up a partition or two, " promised theBoarder. 

"I'll paint it, " said Gus, proud of his former work in this direction. Amarilly secretly resolved to select the color. 

"I'll make curtains and rag rugs and sofa pillows, " she observed. 

"And I'll buy some cheers and a hangin' lamp, " said Mrs. Jenkins. "Don'tall this talk make you want to housekeep?" she asked with a knowingglance in the Boarder's direction. 

He shook his head thoughtfully, but when the boys and Cory had gone tobed, he unfolded a proposition that he had been evolving during theirfinancial discussion, and which now found overwhelming favor andenthusiasm with his hearers. 

The next day Amarilly called upon Mr. Vedder at the theatre. 

"He's got more sound business to him than Mr. Derry or Mr. St. John, "she shrewdly decided. 

"When she told him her plan and showed him her figures, he most heartilyapproved. 

"The house, of course, isn't worth anything, " he said, "but land downthat way is a good investment. Who is your, landlord?"

She gave him the name and address. 

"I am glad you came to me, Amarilly, instead of to your newer friends. "

"Oh, you know more about it than they do, " she replied, "and besides, some way I wouldn't feel as if I were bothering you. "

"Not a bit of bother, Amarilly, and I hope you will always feel thatway. "

The ticket-seller was prompt, thorough, and shrewd in the matter. He hada friend in the real estate business, who appraised the property forhim, and he proved most diplomatic in his dealing with the surprisedlandlord, who fortunately chanced to be in dire need of some ready cash. In an incredibly short space of time the bargain was closed. 

The Jenkins family including the Boarder and Iry left the house onenoon, each bearing a red bank-book. To the onlookers in theneighborhood, this Armada was all-impressive. 

"Looks like a run on the bank, " said the Boarder facetiously, as theyall trooped up the steps to the big stone building. 

The payment was made, and the deeds drawn in the names of all thefamily, but to the list was also added the name of the Boarder. 

CHAPTER XXI

"I don't see, " observed Colette, on learning of the existence anddevelopment of the syndicate, "why the Boarder is in on it. I thought hewas going to have a Lily Rose garden all his own. "

"We thought so, too, " replied Amarilly. "He's been saving up to getmarried, and he's got a raise now, so the day is set for some time inJune; but he told us the night we were first planning to buy the housethat he wanted to be one of the syndicate. You see Lily Rose works--Imean she overworks--in a factory, and so the Boarder--you know he isawful gentle-like to her--says that she mustn't keep house or doanything but real light work after this. He has an interest in the housenow, and he is going to build on a sort of an annex with a sitting-roomand a bedroom and furnish it up fine, and when they are married, theyare going to live there and take their meals with us. And they want Mr. St. John to marry them, and they want you to come. And Mr. Derry iscoming. He asked to be invited. "

For once Colette did not laugh at the chronicles of the Jenkins family. A very tender look came into her flashing eyes. 

"That is very sweet in him--in the Boarder--to feel that way and to beso tender with Lily Rose. She ought to be very happy with a love andprotection like that awaiting her. "

"Yes, " assented Amarilly; "it must be very nice to feel like that, andMr. Derry says he really believes that it is only with poor folks likeus and the Boarder and Lily Rose that love runs smooth. "

"Then, " said Colette musingly, "I wish I were poor--like you and theBoarder and Lily Rose!"

Amarilly secretly divined that this was merely a thought spoken aloud, so she made no comment. She had pondered a great deal over the attitudeof her two friends towards each other. The only place she everencountered them together was at church and to her observing eyes it wasquite apparent that there was a restraint in their bearing. Amarillyremained so preoccupied with her thoughts that Colette, looking at hersearchingly, became curious as to the cause. 

"Amarilly, " she commanded, "tell me what you were thinking of just now--I mean since I spoke last. I shall know by; your eyes if you don't tellme exactly. "

"Mr. Derry says my eyes will always give me away, " evaded Amarilly. 

"Of course they will. You can never be a flirt, Amarilly. "

"I don't want to, " she replied indignantly. 

Colette laughed. 

"Well, tell me what you were thinking about?"

"I was wondering if Mr. St. John wasn't trying any more to find thatthing you lost in the surplice pocket. "

"Oh, Amarilly, has Mr. Phillips censored that word, too? I was in hopeshe would never hear you say 'surplus, ' so he could not correct you. "

"I told him you didn't want me to speak correctly, " said Amarilly alittle resentfully. 

"You did!" cried Colette, looking rather abashed. "And what did he say?"

"He said it was selfish in you to think more of your amusement than ofmy improvement. "

Colette colored and was silent a moment. 

"He's right, Amarilly, " she said impulsively. "I _am_ selfish toeveryone. All I have ever cared for is to be entertained and made tolaugh. I have been as selfish to St. John as I have to you and--I'lltell you a secret, Amarilly, because I know that I can trust you. I'vegone just a little bit too far with St. John. I told him he needn't evercome to see me again until he found what was in the pocket of thesurplice, and he took me at my word. "

"He did all he could to find it, " said Amarilly, immediately on thedefence for the rector. 

"I know he did, but you see before this I've always had everything I'veasked for, even impossible things, and I didn't want to have him failme. I have been selfish and exacting with him, and I think he realizesit now. "

"Well, when you're in the wrong, all you've got to do is to say so. "

"That isn't easy, Amarilly. "

"But it's right. "

"Oh, Amarilly, you're like a man with your right and your wrong!"

"But you would make yourself happy, too, if you told him you knew itwasn't up to him any more to find that. "

"I'd rather be unhappy and stick to what I said. I must have my own way, Amarilly. "

"Well, " said Amarilly, abandoning an apparently hopeless subject, "Icame to ask you to do me--us--the Boarder and Lily Rose, I mean, afavor. "

"What is it, Amarilly?"

"Why, as I said, they want Mr. St. John to marry them, and they'reafraid he won't want to because he--well--because he isn't their kind, you know, and he has such a fashionable church. "

"And you don't know St. John better than that?"

"Why, yes; of course _I_ do, but they don't know him at all, you know. And the Boarder is real shy, anyhow. And so I told him I'd ask you toask him. "

"Why don't you ask him?"

"I think it would please him so to have you ask. He likes to have youtake interest in others. "

"Amarilly, you are a regular little Sherlock! Well, yes, I will, "promised Colette, secretly glad of this opportunity for friendlyconverse with John once more, "but if the--Annex has to be built first, there's no hurry. "

"Yes, there is. The Boarder wants everything settled now, so they can belooking forward to it. "

"Very well, Amarilly. I'll see him to-morrow night. Will that do?"

"Oh, yes; thank you, Miss King. "

"Tell me more about the wedding plans. Are you to be bridesmaid?"

"She isn't going to have one. It won't be a stylish wedding, you know. Just quiet--like one of our neighborhood evenings. Only when I told Mr. Derry about it, he said he should come up that afternoon and trim thehouse up with greens, and that he should come to see them married. "

"And I shall furnish the flowers and the bride's bouquet. Let me see, Ithink lilies of the valley and pink roses would suit Lily Rose, don'tyou?"

"They will be beautiful, " said Amarilly, beaming. "And we are going tohave a real swell meal. I have learned to make salads and ices, and thenwe'll have coffee and sandwiches and bride's cake beside. "

"Some one has to give the bride away, you know, Amarilly, in Episcopalweddings. "

"I know it. But poor Lily Rose has no one that belongs to her. Herrelations are all dead. That's another reason why the Boarder is so niceto her. So ma is going to give her away. We're going to ask theneighbors and you and Mr. Derry and Mr. Cotter, of course. He's thebrakeman friend of the Boarder. "

"And are the Boarder and Lily Rose going away?"

"Yes; the Boarder can get a pass to Niagara Falls. They are going tostay there a week. Lily Rose has never been on the cars. And they aregoing to ride to the train in a hack. "

"Why, it's going to be quite an affair, " said Colette enthusiastically. "We'll throw an old shoe and some rice after them. And will she bemarried in white?"

Amarilly's face fell. 

"I am afraid she can't afford a wedding dress. She's got to get atravelling suit and hat and gloves and shoes, and with other things itwill take all she has saved. She'd like a white dress and a veil and gether picture taken in it to hang up by the side of the Boarder's in thesurplice. And that makes me think, we want you to ask Mr. St. John if hewill wear our surplice instead of bringing one of his. We'll do it upnice before the wedding. "

"Oh, that prophetic surplice!" groaned Colette. "It's yesterday, to-dayand forever; I wish something would happen to it, Amarilly. I hate thatsurplice!"

"I'm sorry, Miss King, but we all love it. And you see it means a gooddeal to Lily Rose; because she has looked at its photograph so long. "

"Very well, Amarilly. I yield. St. John shall wear his surplice oncemore, and when he does--"

A sudden thought illumined her face. "I believe I will tell him--"

Amarilly deemed it a fitting time to depart, and she hastened to assureLily Rose that it was "all right. "

"Miss King will speak to Mr. St. John about marrying you, and she willask him to wear our surplice. She's going to send you flowers--lilies ofthe valley and roses. It all would be perfect, Lily Rose, if only youhad a white dress!"

Lily Rose smiled sweetly, and told Amarilly she was glad to be marriedin any dress, and that she should not miss the "reg'ler weddin' fixin's"nearly as much as Amarilly would mind her not having them. When Amarillyset her head and heart on anything, however, it was sure to beaccomplished. It was a puzzling problem to equip Lily Rose in theconventional bridal white vestments, for the bride-to-be was very proudand independent and wouldn't hearken to Amarilly's plea to be allowed tocontribute toward a new dress. 

"We're under obligations to _him_, you know, " argued Amarilly "and I'dlike to help him by helping you. "

Lily Rose was strong of will despite her sweet smile. 

Deep down in her heart Amarilly, throughout all her scheming, knew therewas a way, but she chose to ignore it until the insistent small voicespoke louder and louder. With a sigh of renunciation she yielded to theinevitable and again sought Lily Rose. 

"I've thought out a way to the white dress, " she announced. 

Lily Rose's eyes sparkled for a moment, and their light died out. 

"Yes, there's really a way, " persisted Amarilly, answering the unspokendenial. "You said you could squeeze out slippers and stockings, didn'tyou?"

"Yes, " she admitted. 

"Well, there's your new white dress skirt, and for a waist there is mylovely lace waist that I told you about--the one Miss King gave me. "

"Your weddin' waist! No, Amarilly. It's like you to offer, but Icouldn't take it from you. "

"No, I'm not giving it to you. Just lending it to you for your wedding. You couldn't hurt it any wearing it two hours. Then I'll lay it by againtill I'm married. And I'll like wearing it all the more because you woreit to your wedding. Come over some day and we'll try it on. Then MissKing is going to give you the bouquet, and for a veil--"

"Oh, the veil! Amarilly, I would love a veil!" Lily Rose criedwistfully. 

"Well, I've got one spoken for. You see, Mrs. Jimmels has been marriedso many different ways, I felt sure she must have worn a veil at one ofher weddings, and seeing she had been married so many times, I thoughtshe couldn't have any special feeling about any one of them, so I askedher if she wouldn't lend hers to you, and she's glad to have it put touse again. You'll look just perfectly swell, Lily Rose. And she's goingto give you a pair of white gloves that she had when she was slim-like. "

The little renunciator went home feeling amply rewarded by the look ofshining content in the blue eyes of Lily Rose. 

 * * * * *

The next night Colette in accordance with her promise to Amarillysummoned John to council. It was not easy to bridge the distance whichhad been steadily increasing with the months that had rolled by sincethe surplice dénouement, and Colette, formerly supreme in her sway, wasperceptibly timid in making the advance. After writing and tearing upseveral notes she called him up by telephone and asked him in aconsciously casual tone if he could find it convenient to call thatevening with reference to a little matter pertaining to their mutualcharge, the Jenkinses. 

The grave voice in which he accepted the invitation was tinged withpleasure. 

When he came Colette, fearful lest he should misinterpret her action inmaking this overture, plunged at once into the subject. 

"I promised Amarilly I would see you and ask you for something in herfriends' behalf. "

"Then it is to Amarilly I am indebted for this call, " he remarkedwhimsically. 

"It's about the Boarder, " she continued, gaining ease at the softeningof his brown eyes. "You know he is to be married to Lily Rose, the girlwe saw at the organ recital where Bud made his debut. "

"I inferred as much at the time. When are they to be married?"

"In June. Just as soon as the Annex can be added to the Jenkins'supright. They are to build on two new rooms or rather the Boarder willdo so and he will furnish them for his new abiding-place. But becauseshe is 'delicate like' and overworked she is to become a Boarderessinstead of a housekeeper, and they will 'eat' with the Jenkins family, thus increasing the prosperity of the latter. Amarilly says the Boarderis 'awful gentle of Lily Rose and wants to take good care of her. '"

The expression that moved the frostiest of his flock came into the stilldepths of his eyes and brought the wild rose to Colette's cheeks. 

"They are going to make quite an affair of the wedding, " she continued, speaking hurriedly and a little breathlessly. "You and I and Mr. Phillips are to be guests. There is to be a hack to take the bride andgroom to the train and a trip to Niagara Falls, because Lily Rose hasnever been on the cars. They are to have salad and ice-cream andsandwiches and coffee. Mr. Phillips is to act as florist and I shallfurnish the decorations and the bride's bouquet. I'd love to throw in abridal gown and veil, but Lily Rose, it seems, is proud and won't acceptthem. "

"I can find it quite in my heart to admire the reluctance of Lily Roseto accept them. "

"And so can I, " replied Colette, the rare sweetness coming into hereyes. "Underneath all my jests about this wedding, it is all very sweetand touching to me--the Boarder's consideration for her, thepreparations for the wedding which appear so elaborate to them. And thenthe wedding itself seems to mean so much to them. It's so different fromthe weddings in our class which often mean so little. "

"Colette, I know--I have always known in spite of your endeavor to haveme believe otherwise--anything really true and genuine appeals to you. I--"

"But I haven't told you yet, " she said, seized with an unaccountableshyness, "what your part is to be. The Boarder, Lily Rose, and naturallyall the Jenkinses, want you to perform the ceremony. The Boarder, beingshy and retiring, forbore to ask you, and Amarilly for some reasondesired me to ask you if you would officiate, and I assured her youwould gladly do so. "

"I should have felt hurt, " replied John with a happy smile, "if they hadasked anyone else to marry them. And you will be there, Colette?"

"Certainly, " she declared. "I wouldn't miss it for anything. "

"And--you will go with me, Colette?"

She colored, and her eyes drooped beneath his fixed gaze. 

"Yes, " she said, "I will go with you. "

"Thank you, Colette, " he answered gently, realizing what a surrenderthis was, and deeming it wise not to follow up his victory immediately. 

And at his reticence Colette was conscious of a shade of disappointment. She began to feel an uncomfortable atmosphere in the silence thatensued, so she broke it, speaking hastily and confusedly. 

"Oh, John, there is something else they want of you. The request is madeby unanimous desire that you wear their surplice--that awful surplice!"

A shadow not unlike a frown fell athwart John's brow, and he made noimmediate reply. 

The introduction of the unfortunate topic made them both self-conscious, and for the first time Colette acknowledged to herself that she had beenin the wrong in the matter of the surplice. John, misinterpreting herconstraint, and fearing that the reference to the garment had revivedall her old resentment, arose to depart. 

"I will wear it if they wish, " he said stiffly. 

"I, too, wish you would wear it, " she said in a voice scarcely audible. 

He looked at her in surprise, hope returning. 

"To please them, " she added, coloring. 

"Colette!" There was a pleading in his voice that told her all shelonged to know. "Colette, don't you think I have been patient? Won't yoube friends again?"

"I will, " she said, "after--the Boarder's and Lily Rose's wedding!"

CHAPTER XXII

Work on the Boarder's Annex was begun with frantic zeal, each and everymember of the Jenkins family lending a helping hand. The Boarder, asboss carpenter, worked after switching hours until it grew dark; thenthe children took turns, in holding a lantern for him. The savings ofthe Boarder being taxed by the trip to "Niagry" and the furnishing ofthe apartment, great economy had to be exercised in the erecting of theAnnex. He strictly adhered to his determination not to touch the "rainyday fund. "

Amarilly pleaded for a bay window, but the Boarder felt thisornamentation to be quite beyond his means, so they finally compromisedon a small and simple porch on which Lily Rose could sit of a summernight while the Boarder smoked by her side. Mrs. Jenkins, moved tomemories long dormant of the home of her youth, suggested blinds insteadof window-shades, but the Boarder after much figuring proved adamantinein resistance to this temptation. 

Lily Rose was the only one who made no suggestions. Anything the Boardermight construct in the way of a nesting place was beautiful in her eyes. 

"She'd be too sorter modist-like to tell me if she was sot on anyperticler thing about the new place, " he confided wistfully to Amarilly, "You're so sharp I wish you'd kinder hint around and find out what shewants. Jest put out some feelers. "

Amarilly diplomatically proceeded to put out "feelers, " and after muchmaneuvering joyously imparted to the Boarder the information that LilyRose loved to look at the one solitary tree that adorned the Jenkinslot, because to her it meant "the country. "

"So that's the way she loves to look out, " informed Amarilly, "and, yousee there isn't any window on that side of your rooms. "

"There shall be one, " declared the Boarder firmly. 

"Couldn't you make it a bay?" again coaxed Amarilly, "It's on the sidethe sun comes in most, and the doctor said Lily Rose should get all thesunlight she could. If she could sit in that bay window sunny days nextwinter it would be better than medicine for her. "

The Boarder sighed. 

"Don't tempt me, Amarilly. There ain't a cent more I kin squeeze out. "

"I'll think out a way, " thought Amarilly confidently. 

She took the matter to Colette, who instantly and satisfactorily solvedthe problem, and Amarilly returned radiant. 

"She says you've saved too much out for furniture, and to build the baywindow from the furniture fund. "

The Boarder shook his head. 

"I thought of that, but thar ain't a thing I can take out of that. I gotthe figgers on the price of everything from the House Furnishers'Establishment. "

"But you see, Miss King says no one ever comes to a wedding withoutbringing a present. That it wouldn't be et--, --dear me! I have forgottenwhat the word is. And she says not to buy any furniture till all thepresents come, and then I can settle the rooms for you while you andLily Rose are away. Lots of the things you are expecting to buy will begiven you. "

"It's risky, " said the Boarder dubiously. "We'll most likely git castersand bibles and tidies. That's what I've allers seen to weddin's. "

"Well, I see I have got to put a flea in your ear, but don't tell LilyRose. Let it be a surprise to her. Miss King is going to give you ahandsome base-burner coal stove. So you can take that off your list. "

The Boarder looked pleased and yet distressed. 

"She shouldn't go fer to do that!" he protested. 

"Well, she wants to give you a nice present because you've been nice tous, and she thinks Lily Rose is sweet, and she says she believes inmaking sensible presents. She asked Mr. Meredith what to get, and hetold her to get the stove so you see it's all right if he says so. Shethought you wouldn't need a stove till next winter, but I told her youwanted the rooms furnished complete now. "

"Then, " said the Boarder beamingly, "the bay winder shall be cut outter-morrer. "

"Don't cut it _out_!" said Amarilly alarmed. 

"I don't mean in a slang way, " he said, laughing. "I mean cut out with asaw. "

When Lily Rose was brought over one starlight night in budding May tosee the beautiful aperture that would eventually become a bay window andface the solitary tree, two dewy drops of joy came into her eyes. Beforethem all she raised her pale, little face for a kiss which the Boarderbestowed with the solemn air of one pronouncing a benediction, for LilyRose was chary of outward and visible expressions of affection, and hewas deeply moved by this voluntary offering. 

The Annex grew rapidly, but its uprising was not accomplished withoutsome hazard and adventure. There was an exciting day when Cory fellthrough the scaffolding where she had been climbing. She suffered amoment of unconsciousness and a bump on her head. 

"An inch nigher her brain, and it would have killed her!" exclaimed themother in tragic tones. 

"An inch of miss is as good as a mile, " said the Boarderphilosophically. 

There was also a thrilling moment when Iry thrust his head through therailings of the new porch. Satisfied with his outlook, he would fainhave withdrawn, but was prevented by an unaccountable swelling of hispate. Flamingus, coming to the rescue and working seemingly on thetheory that his skull might be compressible, tried to pull him backward, but the frantic shrieks of Iry caused this plan of ejection to beabandoned. 

"The rest of him is smaller than his head, " observed Amarillypractically, as she arrived upon the scene and took a comprehensive viewof the case, "Push him through, Flam, and I'll go around on the otherside and get him. "

Iry, safely landed in Amarilly's arms, laughed his delight, and thinkingit a sort of game, was about to repeat his stunt of "in and out. "

"It's time something was done to you, " said Amarilly determinedly, "before you get killed in this place. I am going to spank you, Iry, andCo, too. I am going to spank you both fierce. And you are to keep awayfrom the new part. "

In spite of wailing protests, Amarilly administered a spanking to thetwo younger children that worked effectually against further repetitionof their hazardous performances. But Bobby tobogganed down the roofduring its shingling and sprained his ankle, which necessitated the useof crutches. 

"He can break his neck if he wants to, " remarked Amarilly, when besoughtby Co to punish him too. 

Mrs. Jenkins lost a finger-nail by an injudicious use of the hammer. Budsat down in the paint pot, and had to go to bed while his clothes werecleaned. In fact Lily Rose was the only one of the whole family circleto suffer no injury, but the Boarder guided her so tenderly over everypart and plank of the Annex that there was no chance for mishap. 

When the lathing and plastering were completed, the little bride-electbegan to tremble with timidity and happiness at the consciousness of thenearness of her approaching transfer to the Home. 

The plan of the Boarder had been to leave the walls rough and unfinishedtill their settling process should be accomplished, but Amarilly, absorbed heart and soul in this first experience of making a nestingplace, pleaded for paper--"quiet, pretty paper with soft colors, " sheimplored, Derry's teachings now beginning to bear fruit in Amarilly'sdevelopment of the artistic. 

"Amarilly, we can't hev everything to onct, " he rebuked solemnly. "Thepaper'll crack as sure as fate, if you put it on now. "

"Let it crack!" defied Amarilly. "Then you can put on more. You're awaynearly all day, and the rest of us are at work, but if Lily Rose has tosit here all day and look at these white walls that look just like sourbread that hasn't riz"--Derry had not yet discovered this word inAmarilly's vocabulary--"she'll go mad. "

"Amarilly, " sighed the Boarder, "you'll hev me in the poorhouse yit!"

"Oh, dear!" sighed Amarilly. "I'll have to let you into another secret. Mr. Meredith is going to give you and Lily Rose a handsome centre-tableand an easy-chair. There won't be any surprises left for you by the timethe wedding is over, but you're so set, I have to keep giving thingsaway to you. "

"That makes me think, " remarked the Boarder. "I was going to ask youwhat I'd orter give the preacher fer marryin' Lily Rose and me. Thefireman of Number Six told me he give two dollars when he was spliced, but you see Mr. Meredith is so swell, I'd orter give more. "

Amarilly gazed reflectively into space while she grappled with thisproposition. 

"Do you know, " she said presently, with the rare insight that was herbirthright, "I don't think Mr. Meredith would like money--not from you--for Lily Rose. You see he's a sort of a friend, and you'd better givehim a present because money, unless it was a whole lot, wouldn't meananything to him. "

"That's so, " admitted the Boarder, "but what kin I give him?"

Amarilly had another moment of thought. 

"Make him a bookrack. Mr. Derry will draw you the design, and you cancarve it out. You can do it noons after you eat your luncheon, then youwon't lose any time building the house. "

"That's jest what I'll do. So with the fee saved and the cheer and tableout, I kin paper the rooms. You find out what kind Lily Rose wants andhelp her pick it out. "

"She'll choose blue, " lamented Amarilly, "and that fades quick. "

Lily Rose was easily persuaded to let Derry be consulted. He promptlyvolunteered to tint the walls, having studied interior decorations atone time in his career. He wrought a marvellous effect in soft grays andbrowns with bordering graceful vines. 

Lily Rose by taking advantage of a bargain sale on suits saved enoughfrom her trousseau to curtain the windows in dainty blue and whitemuslin. 

Derry then diverted the appropriation for an ingrain carpet to anexpenditure for shellac and paint with which he showed Amarilly how todo the floors. Some cheap but pretty rugs were selected in place of thecarpet. 

At last the Annex was ready for painting. Lily Rose wistfully statedthat she had always longed to live in a white house, so despite the factthat the Jenkins house proper was a sombre red, the new part was paintedwhite. 

"'Twill liven the place up, " Amarilly consoled herself, while Colettebreathed a sigh of relief that the Annex was not to be entirelyconventional. 

At Amarilly's suggestion, the woodwork was also painted white. 

"Hard to keep clean, " warned Amarilly, divided in her trend ofpracticality and her loyalty to St. John's favorite color. White won. 

The moment the paint was dry and the Annex announced "done, " the Boardertook Lily Rose to view their prospective domicile. They wereunaccompanied by any of the family, but it took the combined efforts ofMrs. Jenkins, Amarilly, and Flamingus, whose recent change in voice andelongation of trousers gave him an air of authority, to prevent astampede by the younger members. 

Lily Rose returned wet-eyed, sweetly smiling, and tremulous of voice, but the Boarder stood erect, proud in his possessions. 

Colette vetoed the plan for Amarilly to settle in the absence of thegroom and bride. 

"If you have it all furnished beforehand, " she argued, "there will bejust so much more room to entertain in on the night of the wedding. "

And then Lily Rose confessed that "she'd love to be 'to hum' in her ownplace. "

"But they won't be furnished, " argued Amarilly. 

"Oh, yes, they will, " assured Colette. "It's etiquette--" she paused tonote Amarilly writing the word down in a little book she carried--"forpeople to send their presents before they come, and you can settle asfast as they come in. "

The wedding gifts all arrived the day before the wedding. The base-burner, though not needed for some months, was set up, because theBoarder said he would not feel at home until he could put his feet onhis own hearth. John Meredith sent an oaken library table and aneasy-chair. Derry's offering was in the shape of a beautiful pictureand a vase for the table. 

The best man, who fortunately had appealed to Amarilly for guidance, gave a couch. The Jenkins family, assessed in proportion to theirrespective incomes, provided a bedroom set. Lily Rose's landlady sent awillow rocker; the girl friends at the factory a gilt clock; therailroad hands, six silver spoons and an equal number of forks. LilyRose's Sunday-school teacher presented a lamp. A heterogeneousassortment of articles came from the neighbors. 

These presents were all arranged in the new rooms by Lily Rose, and theelegance of the new apartment was overwhelming in effect to thehousehold. 

"It looks most too fine to feel to hum in, " gasped the Boarder. "Itmakes me feel strange!"

"It won't look strange to you, " assured the bride-elect, looking shylyinto his adoring eyes, "when you come home and find me sitting here inmy blue dress waiting for you, will it?"

"No!" agreed the Boarder with a quick intake of breath, "'Twill be homeand heaven, Lily Rose. "

CHAPTER XXIII

Shyly and perversely Lily Rose had postponed the trying on of herborrowed wedding waist until the day preceding the great event. 

"There won't be time to fit it, " pleaded Amarilly. 

And Lily Rose had smiled a faraway smile and said her veil would coverit anyway. But finally Amarilly's pleas prevailed and the belovedgarment was brought forth. 

Amarilly took it reverently from its wrappings and held it up to view. After many exclamations of wonder and admiration, Lily Rose, who hadremoved her dress, essayed to try it on. 

"Why, Amarilly, " she said, struggling to get her arm into the sleeve, "there's something the matter! It's sewed together, or something. "

Amarilly hastened to investigate. 

"Oh!" she gasped, after thrusting her hand within, "to think it shouldbe in here, for I am sure this is what Miss King has been looking for solong. Wait until I go and ask ma about it. "

She hurried to the kitchen precinct of the house. 

"Oh, Ma, do you know how this came in Miss King's lace waist? The onethat was here through the fever?"

"Why, didn't you ever take that home?"

"Yes, " informed Amarilly, "but she made me a present of it, and I put itaway to keep till I was--grown up. And I want to lend it to Lily Rose tobe married in. And when she went to try it on, she found this in thesleeve. "

Mrs. Jenkins paused in the sudsing of a garment. 

"Let me see!" she said, surveying the object with reminiscent scrutiny. "Oh, yes, I remember now. I found it on the floor the day she was here, afore the waist was ready for her. I thought she had dropped it, and soI pinned it in the sleeve of her dress, and was goin to tell Gus to giveit to her, but he didn't take the waist hum, and then so much happened, it went clean out of my mind. "

"I'll go right over to her house with it now, " said Amarilly. 

Lily Rose, adorned in the filmy, white waist, entered the kitchen. 

"See, Amarilly, " she said delightedly. "It's a beautiful fit!"

But Amarilly had something on her mind of more moment even than LilyRose's wedding garments. 

"I am glad it fits, " she said hurriedly, scarcely vouchsafing a glancetoward Lily Rose as she caught up her hat, and hastened as fast as thestreet-cars would take her to Colette. Orders had been given for theadmittance of Amarilly at any hour and to any room her young patronessmight chance to be occupying. This morning she was in her boudoir. 

"Oh, Miss King!" cried Amarilly, her face aglow. "I guess I have foundit!"

Colette's heart began to flutter and the wavering beat became a steadythrob when Amarilly handed her the long lost article. 

"Oh, Amarilly, you darling! Yes, yes, this is it! And it evidently hasnot been touched. Where did you find it? Who had it?" Amarilly relatedthe story of its discovery. 

"Then, but for your generosity, Amarilly, this would have been in thewaist for years, so I am going to reward you. You shall make Lily Rose awedding present of the waist, and when you are married, I shall give youa real, white wedding gown of white satin with a bridal train!"

"Oh, Miss King! I must get married then, even if I have to do it in aleap year!"

"Of course you will marry. I shall pick out the bridegroom myself. Ifeel like doing almost anything for you, Amarilly. "

"Do you, truly?" asked Amarilly. "Then I wish you would--"

"Tell me, dear!" urged Colette. "I'll do anything for you to-day. "

"Be nice to Mr. St. John!" whispered the little peacemaker. 

"Amarilly! I will, indeed--nicer than you can imagine, or he either. Andtell me, is Lily Rose still happy--very happy?"

"Yes, " replied Amarilly. "So happy, and so scared-like, and she's goingto dress at our house and could you come early and fix on the veil? Wedon't just know how it goes. "

[Illustration: "Be nice to Mr. St. John!" whispered the littlepeacemaker. ]

"Of course I will. And now will you take a little note to St. John forme on your way home?"

"Yes, Miss King. And are you going to tell him it is found?"

"No, Amarilly; not until to-morrow night, so don't say anything about itto him. "

The rector looked up with a welcoming smile when Amarilly was shown intohis study. 

"I came with a note from her, " she said with a glad little intonation inher voice. 

John took it eagerly. His face fell at the first few words which toldhim not to call for her to-morrow night on the way to the wedding, butit brightened amazingly when he read the reason--the adjusting of LilyRose's bridal veil; it fairly radiated joy when he read:

"I am not going to be disagreeable to--anyone to-morrow. I shall 'let mylight shine' on Lily Rose and--every one. If you will keep your carriageto-morrow night, I will send mine away and ride home with you. "

CHAPTER XXIV

On the night of the auspicious occasion, Mrs. Jenkins's home presented ascene of festivity. Neighbors had loaned their lamps, and the brakemanhad hung out his red lantern in token of welcome and cheer. It was, however, mistaken by some of the guests as a signal of danger, and theywere wary of their steps lest they be ditched. Mrs. Hudgers ventured theawful prognostication that "mebby some of them Jenkins brats had goneand got another of them ketchin' diseases. "

When they entered the house there was a general exclamation ofadmiration. The curtain partitions had been removed, and the big roomwas beautifully decorated with festoons and masses of green interspersedwith huge bunches of June roses. 

Derry and Flamingus received the guests. Upstairs the Boarder and thebrakeman were nervously awaiting the crucial moment. The door into theAnnex was closed, for in the sitting-room was the little bride, her palecheeks delicately tinted from excitement as Colette artisticallyadjusted the bridal veil, fastening it with real orange blossoms. Amarilly hovered near in an ecstasy which was perforce silent on accountof her mouth being full of pins. 

"There's Mr. St. John's carriage, " she managed to murmur as she peeredfrom the window. 

Colette dropped her paper of pins, went hastily into the adjoiningbedroom and slipped out again before John Meredith was ushered in wherethe surplice immaculately laundered, was waiting to be donned by itsoriginal owner. 

After slipping it on, John's hand from force of habit sought the pocketand there encountered something. He drew it forth wonderingly. It was asmall, silver-monogrammed envelope sealed and addressed to him inColette's handwriting. He read the note once, twice, thrice. Then therewas a knock at the door that led into the Annex sitting-room. He openedit to admit Amarilly. 

"Are you ready?" she asked. "You're to go in with them. They--"

She paused and stared at him. The transformation in his face waswonderful. 

"Yes, I am ready, Amarilly, " he replied, and something in his voicesounded strange to her. 

He followed her into the next room where the Boarder, awkward in hisSunday clothes, but regal in his pride in the little, white-veiledfigure at his side, was awaiting him. 

John walked out into the Jenkins's part of the house with them, whileAmarilly slipped home by way of the Annex bedroom. 

The entrance was certainly effective to the neighbors. 

"Ain't she a lily though!" "Look at that long veil onct!" "Jest like 'apicter!" "What a swell waist" "That big bo'quet!" "I niver seed sechflowers afore. " "That surplus makes it look like picters!"

All these comments were sweet music in Amarilly's ear. Only one personhad regrets. Mrs. Hudgers was visibly disappointed. 

"I thought they'd hev candles a-burnin', " she confided to Mrs. Huce. 

"Don't you know no better than that?" scoffed Mrs. Huce with a superiorair. "Them things is only used by Irish folks. "

Derry's dancing eyes looked to Colette for appreciation of thisstatement, but her eyes and attention were entirely for John. 

The ceremony began. John's impressive voice, with its new pervading noteof exultant gladness, reached them all, tempering even Derry's light-hearted mirth. It gave courage to the little bride whose drooping headrose like a flower, and a light shone in her eyes as she made theresponses sweetly and clearly. It found echo in the Boarder, whosestooping shoulders unconsciously straightened and his voice grew clearand strong as he promised to have and to hold. It found a place inColette's heart which sent illumining lights into her starry eyes. 

When the solemn ceremony ended, and the Boarder and Lilly Rose werepronounced man and wife, the guests flocked forward to offercongratulations. Then they were bidden to adjourn to the Annex that theymight view the bride's domain, while Mrs. Jenkins assisted by manyhelping hands set the long tables, a small one being reserved for theBoarder, the bride, Mr. Cotter, and Mrs. Jenkins and Iry. 

"I thought they could eat more natural, " whispered the consideratelittle Amarilly to Colette, "if there weren't no strangers with them. "

Colette, John, and Derry were also honored with a separate table. Mrs. Hudgers and Amarilly "dished up and poured" in the woodshed, while theboys acted as waiters, having been thoroughly trained by Amarilly forthe occasion. 

"Do you know, " laughed Derry, "I was so surprised and relieved to findthat the Boarder had a cognomen like other people. It never occurred tome before that he must of course have a name. "

Colette smiled politely but perfunctorily. She was living too deeplyto-night to appreciate wit. John, too, was strangely silent, his eyesresting often and adoringly upon Colette. Shrewdly Derry divined thesituation and relieved it by rattling on with a surface banter thatdemanded no response. 

"These refreshments, " he observed, "are certainly the handiwork of mylittle maid. They have a flavor all her own. I am proud of Amarilly'sEnglish, too. "

"I wonder, " said Colette, "if you are doing quite right, Mr. Phillips, in improving Amarilly to such an extent? I am afraid she will growbeyond her family. "

"No; even you, pardon me, Miss King, don't know Amarilly as I do. Shecouldn't get beyond them in her heart, although she may in otherdirections. Her heart is in the right place, and it will bridge anydistance that may lie between them. "

John looked up attentively and approvingly. 

"Amarilly has too much aptitude for learning not to be encouraged, and Ishall do more for her before long. We have pursued a select course ofreading this winter. She has read aloud while I painted. We beganstumblingly with Alice in Wonderland and are now groping throughmythology. "

After refreshments had been served, Lily Rose went to her bedroom to donher travelling gown, and when the happy couple had driven away amid ashower of rice and shouts from the neighbors, John's carriage drew up. 

"John, " asked Colette, after a happy little moment in his arms, "did youread my note and did you see what the date was?"

"Colette, surely it was the dearest love-letter a man ever received. IfI could have had it all these dreary months!"

"Do you wonder that I feared its falling into strange hands?"

"Tell me its history, Colette. How you recovered it, and why you thoughtit was in the surplice in the first place?"

"I wrote it the day after you asked me--you know--"

There was another happy disappearance and silence before she resumed:

"I was sentimental enough to want to deliver it in an unusual way. Itook it to Mrs. Jenkins's house the day your surplice was to be returnedto you, and I slipped it inside the pocket. I wanted you to find itthere on Sunday morning. I didn't know what to think when you looked atme so oddly that Sunday--yes, I know now that you were wondering at mysilence. And when we came home in the fall and I learned from Amarillythat strangers might be reading and laughing at my ardent love-letter, which must have passed through many and alien hands, I was so horrifiedI couldn't act rational or natural. I was--yes, I will 'fess up, John, --I was unreasonable, as you said and--No, John! wait until I finishbefore you--"

"You want to know how and where it was found? It seems at the same timeyour surplice was laundered, a lace waist of mine was at their house. Ididn't care for a 'fumigated waist' so, like you, I made Amarilly apresent perforce. She laid it away in its wrappings to keep until herwedding day. Out of the goodness of her generous little heart she loanedit to Lily Rose and yesterday, when they were trying it on, Amarillyfound my note in the sleeve. Mrs. Jenkins was appealed to and rememberedthat when the things were ready to be sent home, she found the note onthe floor, and supposing it had fallen from the waist slipped it insideand forgot all about it. I decided that it should be delivered in themanner originally planned. "

"But, Colette, " he asked wistfully, a few moments later, "if you hadnever found it would you have kept me always in suspense and never havegiven me an answer? I began to hope, that night I called, that you wererelenting. "

"I was, John. Amarilly had been telling me of the Boarder's love forLily Rose, and it made me lonely for you, and I determined in any eventto give you your answer--this answer--to-night. And so I did, and--Ithink that is all, John. "

"Not all, Colette. "

CHAPTER XXV

The dairy business continued to prove profitable to Gus, the cowremaining contented, loving and giving. One night, however, there camethe inevitable reaction, and the gentle creature in the cow-shed feltthe same stifling she had rebelled against on the night of the stampedewhen she had made her wild dash for liberty. Moved by theserecollections, the sedate, orderly cow became imbued with a feeling ofunrest, and demolishing the frail door was once more at large. In afrenzy of freedom she dashed about the yard. Her progress was somewhatimpeded by contact with the surplice which, pinned to the clothes-line, was flapping in the breezes. Maddened by this obstruction which hung, veil-like, over her bovine lineaments, she gave a twist of her Texashorns, a tug, and the surplice was released, but from the line only; ittwined itself like a white wraith about the horns. 

Then the sportive animal frisked over the low back fence and across thehill, occasionally stepping on a released end of the surplice andangrily tearing her way through the garment. She made her road to therailroad track. That sight, awakening bitter memories of a packedcattle-car, caused her to slacken her Mazeppa-like speed. While shepaused, the night express backed onto the side track to await the comingof the eastbound train. The cow, still in meditation, was silhouetted inthe light of a harvest moon. 

"This 'ere, " a home-bound cattleman was saying to a friend on theplatform, "is nigh onto whar we dropped a cow. I swar if thar ain't thatblasted cow now, what? Know her from hoof to horn, though what kind of aChristmas tree she's got on fer a bunnit, gits me! Ki, yi! Ki, yi!"

At the sound of the shrill, weird cry, the animal stood at bay. Againcame the well-known strident halloo. A maelstrom of memories wasawakened by the call. Instinctively obeying the old summons she startedtoward the train, when from over the hill behind her she heard anothercommand. 

"Co, boss! Co, boss!"

The childish anxious treble rose in an imploring wail. 

The cow paused irresolute, hesitating between the lure of the old lifeon the plains and the recent domestic existence. 

"Co, boss!"

There was a note of entreaty, of affection, in the cry. 

After all, domesticity was her birthright. With an answering low ofencouragement the black cow turned and trotted amiably back to meet thelittle dairyman. 

"Well, I'll be jiggered, " said the cattleman, as the train pulled out. "I'd a swore it was old Jetblack. Maybe 'twas. She was only a milkeranyway, and I guess she's found a home somewhere. "

Gus with arm lovingly about the cow's neck walked home. 

"Bossy, " he said in gently reproaching tones, "how could you give mesuch a skeer? I thought I'd lost you, and I'd hev sure missed you--you, yerself--more'n I would the money your milk brings us. "

Then for the first time, the lad's eyes noted the decorated horns. 

"What in thunder--"

He began to unwind the ribbons of white cloth, the stringed remnants ofthe surplice. 

"Gracious Peter! It's the surplus! What will Amarilly say--and LilyRose? It's only fit fer carpet rags now. Well, if this ain't the end ofthe surplus after all it has went through! I wonder what bossy wanted ofit? Thought jest cause she was a cow, she must be a cow ketcher, Isuppose. "

Great was the joy of the Jenkinses at the restoration of the cow, butthere was grievous lament from Amarilly for the fate of the preciousgarment. 

"It was our friend--our friend in need!" she mourned. 

"I'm so glad we hev a picter of it, " said Lily Rose, gazing fondly atthe photograph of the Boarder in the saintly robes. 

"I'll go and tell Miss King, " said Amarilly the next morning. "She saidshe felt that the surplice would come to some tragic end. "

"It was a fitting fate for so mysterious a garment, " commented Colette. "You couldn't expect any ordinary, common-place ending for the surplice. After officiating at funerals, weddings, shop-windows, theatres, pawnshops, and bishops' dwellings, it could never have simply worn out, or died of old age. "

"I don't see, " meditated Amarilly, "what possessed the cow. She's beenso gentle always, and then to fly to pieces that way, and riddle thesurplice to bits! It was lucky there was nothing else on the line. "

"It's very simple, " said Colette. "I suppose she wanted to go to thetrain. Maybe she expected to meet a friend. And as nearly everyone elsehad worn the surplice on special occasions, she thought she could do thesame; only, you see, never having been to church she didn't quite knowhow to put it on, and I suppose got mad at it because it didn't fit herand gave vent to her anger by trampling on it. "

Amarilly's doleful little face showed no appreciation of this conceit. 

"Don't look so glum, Amarilly. I have something to show you that willplease you. "

She opened a desk and took a thick, white square envelope from it, andhanded it to the little girl. 

Wonderingly Amarilly opened it and took out a folded, engraved sheet ofthick paper. She read eagerly, and two little spots of pink came intoher cheeks. 

"Oh, oh!" she cried, looking up with shining eyes, which in anothermoment glistened through tears. 

"Why, Amarilly, aren't you glad that I am going to be--"

"Mrs. St. John?" smiled Amarilly. "I think it's beautiful. And, "anxiously, "you will surely be good to--him?"

"Yes, " replied Colette softly "I will be good--very good--to St. John. Don't fear, Amarilly. "

A card had fallen from the envelope. Amarilly picked it up and read:

"To be presented at the church. "

"What's that?" she asked curiously. 

"You have to show that at the church door. If you didn't have it, youcouldn't get in to see us married. It's the same as a ticket to atheatre. And St. John doesn't like it; but if we didn't have them therewould be a mob of curious people who don't know us. I shall give all ofyou tickets to come to the church, the Boarder and Lily Rose, too. "

"Oh, " cried Amarilly, "that will be lovely, and we shall all come. "

"Of course you will all come. Your friend, the bishop, is to marry us, and Bud is going to sing a solo. The choirmaster told me his voice wasdeveloping wonderfully. "

"I must go home and tell them all about it, " said Amarilly excitedly. 

"Wait! There's more to hear. I am going to invite you to the receptionhere at the house, and I am going to have a lovely white dress made foryou to wear, and you shall have white silk stockings and slippers andwhite gloves. "

"Oh!" gasped Amarilly, shutting her eyes. "I can't believe it. "

The next morning at the studio she announced the wonderful news toDerry. 

"I just received an invitation, myself, " he replied. "We will gotogether, Amarilly. I'll send you flowers and call for you with ataxicab. "

"Things must stop happening to me, " said Amarilly solemnly. "I can'tstand much more. "

Derry laughed. 

"When things once begin to happen, Amarilly, they never stop. You are togo from here now every day after luncheon to this address, " handing hera card. 

"'Miss Varley, '" Amarilly read. "'1227, Winter Street. ' Will she havework for me, too?"

"Yes; work in schoolbooks. She takes a few private pupils, and I haveengaged her to teach you. I really think you should have instruction inother branches than English and art and arithmetic. "

Amarilly turned pale but said nothing for a moment. Then she held outher hand. 

"I will study hard--to pay you, " she said simply. 

"And can you stand another piece of exciting news, Amarilly? Sunset, which I have dawdled over for so long, drew first prize. "

"Oh, Mr. Derry, that is best of all!"

"And do you know what I am going to give Mrs. St. John for a weddingpresent from you and me? The picture of The Little Scrub-girl. "

CHAPTER XXVI

Another spring found the members of the Jenkins Syndicate still bankingregularly and flourishing in their various walks in life. The Boarderhad received a "raise"; Lily Rose was spending her leisure time infashioning tiny garments which she told Cory were for a doll baby; Irywas wearing his first trousers cut over from a pair discarded by Bud;and Amarilly was acquiring book lore with an ease and rapidity whichdelighted Miss Varley and Derry. Through the medium of Mr. Vedder theattention of the manager of a high class vaudeville had been drawn toBud, and he was now singing every night with a salary that made theneighbors declare that "them Jenkinses was getting to be reg'lerRockyfellers. "

Amarilly coming home one Monday evening found the family grouped aboutthe long table listening with bulging eyes and hectic cheeks to theBoarder, who had before him a sheet of figures. Amarilly was at oncealert, although somewhat resentful of this encroachment upon herparticular province. 

"Oh, come and hear, Amarilly!" "Amarilly, we've bought a farm!""Amarilly, we air agoin' to live in the country!"

"Let me explain, " said the Boarder, usually slow and easy going, but nowalert and enthusiastic of mien and speech. "We've got a chance, Amarilly, to sell this place and make quite a profit. That new factorythat's agoin' up acrost the alley has sent real estate scootin'. Withwhat we git fer it, we kin make a big payment on a farm. I took a rundown yesterday to look at one we kin git cheap, cause the folks on ithez gotter go west fer the man's health. What we hev all saved up sencewe bought the place will keep us agoin' till we git in our fust summercrops. "

"Tell her about the house, " prompted Mrs. Jenkins, her quick, maternaleye noting the bewilderment and disapproval in her daughter's expressiveeyes. 

"It's all green meaders and orcherds and lanes, " said the Boarder withthe volubility of one repeating an oft-told and well-loved tale, whilethe young Jenkinses with the rapt, intense gaze of moving picturebeholders sat in pleased expectancy, "and the house sets on a littlerise of ground. It's a white house with a big chimbley and two stoops, and thar's a big barn with two white hosses in it, and a cow and ananimal in the paster lot. A big pen of pigs, fifty hens in the henhouse, and a few sheep. Thar's a piece of woods and the river. "

"I'm a little fearful of the river on Iry's account, " said Mrs. Jenkins, "but we kin spank him up good as soon as we git thar, and then he'llunderstand he's to keep away. "

"We kin git a good dog to keep track of Iry and the cattle, " said theBoarder, and then he paused expectantly to listen to Amarilly'sapprobation. But she was strangely silent. 

"It will be a fust class investment, " he continued sagely. 

"Why will it? We don't know anything about farming, " objected Amarilly. "We'll have to hire someone to run it. "

"I was brought up on a farm, " replied the Boarder. "Thar ain't a thing Idon't know about farm work. "

"I was raised on a farm, too, " said Mrs. Jenkins. "I can make goodbutter and I know all about raisin' chickens. I'll get some youngturkeys and have them ready to sell for Thanksgiving, and I'll set outstrawberries and celery plants. "

"I kin larn, and I'll work hard and do just what he tells me to, " saidFlamingus, motioning toward the Boarder. 

"I kin have my dairy all right, all right, " said Gus joyfully. "I'llhave a hull herd of cattle soon. "

"I shall go in heavy on hens, " said Milt importantly. "The grocer giveme a book about raising them. There's money in hens. "

"I choose to take keer of the sheep, " cried Bobby. 

"I'll help ma do the work in the house and the garden, " volunteeredCory. 

"And I'm strong enough to work outdoors now, " said Lily Rose. "I shallhelp with the garden and with the housework. "

"We'll all pitch in and work, " said Flamingus authoritatively, "andwe're all partners and we won't hire no help. It will be clear profit. "

"Ain't it lovely, Amarilly?" asked the mother, apprehensive lest thelittle leader might blackball the project. 

"We're all doing so well here, why change? Why not let well enoughalone?" she asked. 

There was a general and surprised protest at this statement. It wassomething new for Amarilly to be a kill-joy. 

"Do you like to live in this alley when we kin hev all outdoors and gita chanst to be somebody?" demanded Flamingus, who was rapidly usurpinghis sister's place as head of the house. 

"And think of the money we'll make!" reminded Milton. 

"And the milk and butter and cream and good things to eat without buyingthem!" exclaimed Gus. 

"And huntin' f'r eggs and swimmin' in the river and skatin' and gettin'hickory nuts and all the apples you kin eat, " persuaded Bobby, who hadevidently been listening to the Boarder's fancies of farm life. 

"Thar's a school close by, and all the chillern kin go, " said the motheranxiously. "Mebby you kin git to teach it after a while, Amarilly. "

"Oh, Amarilly!" cried Lily Rose ecstatically, "to think of all thetrees, and all the sky, and all the green grass and all the birds--oh, Amarilly!"

Words failed Lily Rose, but she sighed a far-seeing blissful sigh ofexquisite happiness at her horoscope. The Boarder looked at her, hisheart eloquent in his eyes, but he said nothing. 

"Amarilly, " cried Cory, "we kin hev real flowers fer nuthin' and piesand ice-cream, and we kin cuddle little chicks like ma told me, and makedaisy chains, and hev picnics in the woods. Oh--"

Words also proved inadequate to Co's anticipations. 

"Amawilly, we kin play wiv little lambs, " lisped Iry. 

"Bud, you haven't made your speech, yet, " said Amarilly, wistfully, realizing that the majority was against her. 

"Bud won't go till fall, " said Mrs. Jenkins. 

"Till fall!" cried Amarilly faintly. "Why, when are we going?"

"Next week, " answered the Boarder jubilantly. "The folks want to leaveright away, and we must get busy plantin'. I went to Vedder's friend, the real estate man, this mornin' as soon as I got back, and he saysit's a real bargain. "

"But why isn't Bud going?"

"This morning, " informed Mrs. Jenkins proudly, "Bud had an offer. Assoon as the theatre shuts down, Mr. Vedder is going to take Bud to a bigresort and manage him for the season. He'll git lots of money. Iwouldn't let Bud go off with no one else, but Mr. Vedder is so nice, andhe says when Bud goes to the country in the fall he kin come into thecity Saturday nights on the Interurban and sing in the choir Sundays andcome back Monday. He kin stay with him, Mr. Vedder says. And the countryair and the fresh milk and eggs, will make a diff'rent boy of him. It'swhat the doctor says he'd orter hev. "

"Then, we'll go, of course, " declared Amarilly resolutely. 

"And, Amarilly, " said the Boarder gravely, "your ma ain't said why shewanted to go, but think of the diff'rence it will make in her life. Tobe sure, she will have to work hard, but with you, Lily Rose, and Co tohelp her, it won't be so hard, and it'll be higher class work thanslushing around in tubs and water, and she'll hev good feedin' and goodair, and we'll all feel like we was folks and our own bosses. "

"Ma, I was selfish!" cried Amarilly remorsefully. "I'll work like ahired man!"

Amarilly thereupon bravely assumed a cheerful mien and looked over theBoarder's figures, listening with apparently great enthusiasm to theplans and projects. But when she was upstairs in her own little bed andeach and every other Jenkins was wrapt in happy slumber, she turned herface to the wall, and wept long, silently, and miserably. Far-awayfields and pastures did not look alluring to this little daughter of thecity who put bricks and mortar and lighted streets above trees andmeadows, for Amarilly was entirely metropolitan; sky-scrapers were herbirthright, and she loved every inch of her city. 

"But it's best for them, " she acknowledged. 

A little pang came with the realization that they who had been sodependent upon her guardianship for guidance were entirely competent toact without her. 

"It's Flam. He's growed up!" she sobbed, correctness of speech slippingfrom her in her grief. "And he don't know near so much as I do, onlyhe's a man--or going to be--so what he says goes. "

And with this bitter but inevitable recognition of the things that are, Amarilly sobbed herself to sleep. 

CHAPTER XXVII

The next morning Amarilly served Derry's breakfast in heavy-heartedsilence, replying in low-voiced monosyllables to his gay, conversationaladvances. She performed her household duties about the studio listlesslythough with conscientious thoroughness. When it came time to prepareluncheon, Derry called her into the studio. 

"Come here to the light, where I can see you best, Amarilly. "

Reluctantly she came. 

He turned his searching, artist's eyes upon her unsparingly, noting theviolet shadows under the white-lidded eyes, and the hard, almost tragiclines in the drooping of her mobile mouth. She bore his gazeunflinchingly, with indrawn breath and clenched hands. 

"What is it, Amarilly?" he asked gently. "You will tell me, _nichtwahr_?"

These two last words were in deference to her new study of German. 

At the genuine sympathy in his voice, Amarilly's composure gave way andthere was a rush of tears. 

He led her to a divan and sat beside her. 

"Yes, of course you will tell me, Amarilly. I knew there was anemotional side to my practical, little maid, and I noticed at breakfastthat there was something wrong. "

"Yes, " she replied, with an effort, wiping away the rising tears, "Iwill tell you, but no one else. If I told Mr. Vedder, he would notunderstand; he would say I must do what was sensible. If I told Mr. St. John, he would be shocked, and tell me that duty was hard, and that waswhy it must be done, --to strengthen. Mrs. St. John would laugh, and say:'Oh, what a foolish Amarilly!'"

"And what will I say, Amarilly?" he asked interestedly. 

"You! Oh, you will understand what I feel, and you will be sorry. "

"Then spin away, Amarilly. You'll have my sympathy and help ineverything that makes you feel bad, whether it's right or wrong. "

"Oh, Mr. Derry, we are all going away--way off to the country--to liveon a farm!"

"Amarilly, you little city brat! You'd be a misfit on a farm. Tell mewhat has sent the Jenkins family into the open. "

Faithfully Amarilly enumerated the pros and cons of the agriculturalventure. When she had concluded her narrative, Derry, to her surpriseand sorrow, looked positively jubilant. 

"And you don't want to live in the country, eh, Amarilly?"

"No, Mr. Derry, " she protested. "I don't. I have never been there, but Iknow the woods and the fields and--all that--must be beautiful--inpatches--but I couldn't bear it all the time--not to see all the brightand white lights at night and the hurry, and the people, and thetheatres. No! I'd rather be the poorest little speck here than to ownand live on the biggest farm in the world. "

He laughed delightedly. 

"Oh, Amarilly, you little gamin! You have the right idea, though. Wedon't want anything, however perfect it may be, all the time. We want itjust 'in patches'--as you say. You'll love the country with your wholeheart and soul when you come to see it if you know that you can leaveit. But this is a big change in your affairs, and we must talk it over. We'll go to Carter's again for luncheon. Take off your apron and cap. You won't have to fix your hair this time. It's even more beautiful thanit was then. Your frock, if it is cheap and plain, is artistic in cutand color. "

Amarilly felt cheered in spite of herself at his exuberant manner, butburst into tears when on leaving the studio he casually remarked:

"So this is almost the last of your work here! I can never hope to getsuch another housekeeper as you. I shall have to eat out again. "

At sight of her grief he took hold of her arm almost roughly. 

"Amarilly, you little goose, do you suppose I am going to let you beexiled to a farm and lapse into the vernacular of the Boarder? Now, buckup and trust to the judgment and affection of your twin brother. "

Amarilly, wondering but hopeful, "bucked up, " and they walked in silenceto Carter's, where Derry ordered a private dining-room and luncheon. Then:

"Now, listen my child, and you shall hear, not of the midnight ride ofPaul Revere, but of the sad story of the life of your twin brother. Myparents died when I was too young to grieve for them. They are only afaint memory. I had a cold-blooded, sensible guardian who put me into aboys' school, from which I went to college, and then for a year inParis. He didn't let me know the amount of my inheritance. ConsequentlyI really worked and worked hard at the only thing I cared for and formedno extravagant tastes. Neither was I courted and flattered by parasites. 

"On my return from Paris, a year before I met you, I came into mymother's fortune, and recently I have received the one left me by myfather. Having been brought up to live a comparatively simple life, inthe belief that I would be dependent on my own exertions, I have moremoney than I know what to do with as yet. I have no one, not even afifth cousin, to be interested in. I have any number of acquaintances, but no really intimate friends, so I have no one to help me spend andenjoy my money. 

"There was something about you, Amarilly, that appealed to me that firstday you came up to the studio. It couldn't have been your looks, foraside from your hair, your expressive eyes, and your hands; you arequite ordinary looking; but something about you amused me, theninterested me, and, now fascinates me. I have thought about it a gooddeal, and have come to the conclusion that it is your direct naturalnessand earnestness. I have really come to feel as if you were a sort of ayounger sister of mine. I have done a very little for you in the way ofeducation, and I have intended to do more. The reason I have been slowabout it was--for reasons. I have discussed your future with theMerediths a great many times. 

"What I wished to do was to put you in the best girls' school I couldfind and when you were finished there, to send you abroad, and give youthe same advantages that a sister of mine would have. But as I say, Ihesitated. It didn't seem exactly wise to separate you from your family, surround you with different environments and then have you come hometo--the alley. I know your loyal little heart would never waver in itsaffection for them, but such a decided change would not be wise. 

"Now, you see, this farm business simplifies things wonderfully. Withthe thrift and industry of your brothers and the Boarder I can easilysee the farm is going to be a prosperous undertaking, and by the timeyou are finished--say five years--for Miss Varley tells me you are quiteup with the girls of your age in your studies, they will have asubstantial country home which you will enjoy immensely between times. You will find that a country home, however humble, is not sordid like anobscure home in the city. So next week, Amarilly, or as soon as Mrs. Meredith can fit you out properly, you will be packed off to an ultra-smart school. There will be one term this year, but I think you shouldremain through the summer vacation and have private tutoring. "

The waiter entered with the first course. When he had again gone out, Amarilly looked up at Derry, her eyes full of a yearning that touchedhim. 

"It would be lovely, Mr. Derry. Too lovely to happen, you know. "

"There, Amarilly, " he said with a combination of frown and smile, "thereit is again--your contradiction of eyes and mouth--the one of a gazelle;the other, of a mule. I'll answer your objections before you make them, for it is determined that you are to go. "

The look he had ascribed to Amarilly's mouth came into the forwardthrust of his chin. 

"First, you think you are too proud and independent to accept. From yourviewpoint it seems a good deal to do. From mine, proved by my bankaccount, it is an absurdly small thing to do, but if you are trulygrateful for what you are pleased to think I have done for you, you willlet me do this, because you feel sorry for me that I am so alone in theworld. And St. John, himself, would tell you it was your duty to makethe most of your talents and opportunities. You can also do a littlecharity work in keeping me straight, for you see, Amarilly, I am goingto Paris for two years to study, and I will have an incentive to workand not play too hard if I know I have a little sister over here inschool who would be sorry if her brother went wrong and didn't get to bea great artist. So for your sake, and for my sake--"

"But there's ma's sake, " she said wistfully. "The Boarder says woman'swork on the farm is hard. "

"There's the Boarderess and Co--"

"Lily Rose is not strong and doesn't know much about farm work, and Co'sonly a kid. "

"Well, I hadn't finished. You have an interest in the farm as one of thesyndicate, and you have some money saved. "

"Yes, " admitted Amarilly bewildered, not following his train of thought. 

"Well, you won't need that now, and it can go towards a woman to help, --a hired girl in country vernacular--during the busy seasons. And you cango home summers. Every week you are to write me a long letter and tellme about yourself and them. "

Amarilly was gazing into space, and in silence he watched the odd, little signs of conflict. It was the same sort of a struggle, onlyharder and more prolonged, that she had passed through two years beforeat the theatre when her untutored conscience bade her relinquish herseat. Suddenly her countenance became illumined. 

"I am going to do it, Mr. Derry! I am going to let you send me toschool, and abroad and wherever you think best. "

THE END