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," was
Derry'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 the
wall. I can say 'em right every time now."
"Of course you can! And for a reward here's a dollar with which to buy
some black velvet hair-ribbons. Never put any color but black or brown
near 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 uniform
is always provided. Instead of buying you a cap and apron, I prefer to
furnish velvet hair-ribbons. Take it, and get a good quality silk
velvet. And now, good-by for two months. I will let you know when I am
home so that you may begin on your duties."
"Good-by, Mr. Derry," said the little girl artlessly. "And thar's
something 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 came
into his dancing eyes.
"By Jove, Amarilly! I've been wishing some girl who really meant it, who
really cared, would say that to me. You put it very delicately and
sweetly. I'll--yes, I'll do it all the time I'm gone. There's my hand on
it. Good-by, Amarilly."
"Good-by, Mr. Derry."
Amarilly walked home very slowly, trying to think of a way to realize
again 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 his
arm, and he was gazing into her intent eyes with a look of adoration.
"Oh, the Boarder is in love!" gasped Amarilly; her responsive little
heart leaping in sympathetic interest. "That's why he's wore a blue
necktie the last few days. Lord Algernon said that was allers a sure
sign."
She tactfully slipped around a corner, unseen by the entranced couple.
That night, as he was lighting his after-supper pipe, the Boarder
remarked 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 Amarilly
reflectively. "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 white
flower. 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 my
likeness 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 got
it 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 about
Hallie Hudgers lookin' so swell in the surplus, and she wants, as I
should dress up in it and set fer my likeness in it."
"I think it would be fine!" approved Amarilly. "You sure would look
nicer nor Hallie did."
"Well, I wouldn't look like a dead one," admitted the Boarder. "But I
was orful afraid you'd laugh. Then I kin rent it fer an hour to-morrer
ef it ain't got no other dates."
"You can't _rent_ it. You can take it fer an hour, or so long as you
like," she assured him.
"You'll hev to take a quarter anyway, fer luck. Mebby 'twill bring me
luck awinnin' her."
The photograph of the Boarder in saintly attire was pronounced a great
success. Before the presentation he had it set in a frame made of gilt
network 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 original
design. In the precinct adjoining the one in which lived and let live
the Jenkins family, a colored Episcopal church had recently been
established. The rector had but one surplice, and that had been stolen
from the clothes-line, mayhap by one of his dusky flock; thus it was
that Amarilly received a call from the Reverend Virgil Washington, who
had heard of the errant surplice, which he offered to purchase.
Naturally his proposition was met by a firm and unalterable refusal. It
would have been like selling a golden goose to dispose of such a
profitable commodity. He then asked to rent it for a Sunday while he was
having one made. This application, being quite in Amarilly's line of
business, 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 a
passing pang to think of the snowy folds of Mr. St. John's garment
adorning an Ethiopian form.
One day there came to the Jenkins home a most unusual caller. The novel
presence of the "mailman" at their door brought every neighbor to post
of observation. His call was for the purpose of leaving a gayly-colored
postal card addressed to "Miss Amarilly Jenkins." It was from Derry, and
she spent many happy moments in deciphering it. His writing was
microscopic, and he managed to convey a great deal of information in the
allotted small space. He inquired solicitously concerning the surplice,
and bade her be a good girl and not forget the two words he had taught
her. "I have ordered all my meals as though you were with me," he wrote
in conclusion.
Amarilly laid the card away with her wedding waist. Then, with the
Boarder's aid, she indited an answer on a card that depicted the Barlow
Theatre.
The next event for Amarilly was an invitation to attend the wedding of
Mrs. Hubbleston, a buxom, bustling widow for whom Mrs. Jenkins washed.
In delivering the clothes, Amarilly had come to be on very friendly
terms with the big, light-hearted woman, and so she had been asked to
assist in the serving of refreshments on the eventful night.
"I've never been to a wedding," said Amarilly wistfully. "I've been to
most everything else, and I would like to see you wed, but I ain't got
no 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 she
was going home after a visit. She had hardly worn it, but she had
outgrown it, and her ma told me to give it away. I had 'most forgotten
about it. I believe it would just fit you. Let us see."
She produced a white dress that adjusted itself comfortably to
Amarilly's form.
"You look real pretty in white, Amarilly. You shall have this dress for
your own."
On the nuptial night Amarilly, clad in the white gown and with black
velvet hair-ribbons, went forth at an early hour to the house of
festivity.
Mrs. Hubbleston, resplendent in a glittering jetted gown, came into the
kitchen 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 and
the minister."
In a few moments she returned to the kitchen for sympathy.
"I am so disappointed," she sighed, "but then, I might have expected
something would happen. It always does at my weddings."
"What is it?" asked Amarilly, apprehensive lest the wedding might be
declared off.
"I've been married once by a Baptist minister, once by a Methodist, and
the third time by a Congregationalist; last time a Unitarian tied the
knot. So this once I thought I would have an Episcopal, because their
white robe lends tone. And Rev. Mr. Woodthorn has come without his. He
says he never brings it to the house weddings unless specially
requested. He lives clear across the city, and the carriage has gone
away."
"Oh, I have a surplus!" cried Amarilly enthusiastically. "I'll telephone
our grocer. Milt's ahelpin' him to-night, and he can ride over here on
the 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 it
lucky, it's jest been did up clean!"
"My, but that's fortunate! It'll be the making of my wedding. I shall
give 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 arter
your givin' me this fine dress."
"I'll have Mr. Jimmels pay you for it. He can take a dollar out of the
fee for the minister. It will serve him right for not bringing all his
trappings with him."
Amarilly's sense of justice was appeased by this arrangement. She went
into the double parlors to witness the ceremony, which gave her a few
little heart thrills.
"Them words sounds orful nice," she thought approvingly. "The Boarder
and Lily Rose must hev an Episcopal fer to marry them. I wonder if I'll
ever get to Miss King's and Mr. St. John's weddin' or Mr. Derry's; but I
guess he'll never be married. He jokes too much to be thinkin' of sech
things." Then came the thought of her own wedding garment awaiting its
destiny.
"I ain't even hed a beau, yet," she sighed, "but the Boarder says that I
will--that red-headed girls ain't never old maids from ch'ice."
With this sustaining thought, she proceeded to the dining-room. She had
been taught at the Guild how to wait on table, and she proved herself to
be very deft and capable in putting her instructions into effect.
"Here's two dollars," the complacent bride said to Amarilly before
departing. "One is for serving so nicely, and one is for the surplice. I
told them in the kitchen to put you up a basket of things to take home
to the children."
Amarilly thanked her profusely and then went home. She deposited her two
dollars in the family exchequer, and proceeded to distribute the
contents of the basket.
"Now, set around the table here, and take what I give you. Thar ain't
enough of one thing to go hull way round, except fer ma. She's agoin' to
hev some of each. Yes, you be, ma. This here baskit's mine. Here's a
sandwich, 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 as
the rest of you. All right, Bud; take the rest of the ice-cream and some
cake."
"'Tain't fair! I'm a girl, and I'm younger than Bud. I'd orter choose
first," sobbed Cory.
"Shut up, Co! You'll wake Iry, and then he'll hev to hev something, and
if 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, you
can hev cake and jell. That's a good boy, Bud, to give her two tastes of
the cream, and ma'll give you two more. Bobby? Sandwiches and pickle.
Milt? Chicken and salid. Flammy and Gus, pickle and sandwich is all
that's left fer you. The rest of this chicken is agoin' into the
Boarder's dinner pail to-morrer."