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Updated: June 22, 2025
"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 wedding present from you and me? The picture of The Little Scrub-girl."
The transformation in his face was wonderful. "Yes, I am ready, Amarilly," he replied, and something in his voice sounded strange to her. He followed her into the next room where the Boarder, awkward in his Sunday clothes, but regal in his pride in the little, white-veiled figure at his side, was awaiting him.
"You see 'twas at our house when Iry was fust took sick same as the waist you gimme was. They couldn't nuther on 'em be sent hum till they was fumygated. Then Mrs. Winders said as how he, Mr. St. John, said as how 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 the surplice was never delivered to Mr. Meredith?"
"Oh, Amarilly, such system as you have! You are right though; but tell me what it was I meant." "You mean I am to think of something awful that would have been more awful but for something nice that happened. I'll think of the day last summer when we couldn't pay the rent. That was sad until the bishop came along and things got brighter." "Exactly.
Tell me what I can do to help your mother." "If you could git us more washin's," exclaimed Amarilly eagerly, "it would 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 up very fine things like laces carefully?" "She does," replied Amarilly glibly. "She kin do 'em orful keerful, and we dry the colored stuffs in the shade.
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 from her.
Amarilly, recalling the one time in her life when she had had "luncheon," replied casually that she preferred fruit, and suggested a melon. "Good, Amarilly! You are a natural epicure. Fruit, certainly, on a warm day like this. I shall let you select all the courses. What next?" "Lobster," she replied nonchalantly. "Fine! And then?" "Grapefruit salad."
Colette stooped and kissed the freckled little face, to the utter astonishment of those standing near and to the complete felicity of John Meredith, who was a witness of the little scene though he did not hear the conversation. Amarilly walked homeward, her uplifted face radiant with happiness. "The flowers, the lights, oh, it was great!" she thought. "Bud could sing like that if he was learnt.
It was sweet in you to take this little girl home in your brougham and to feel an interest in her improvement." "Not at all!" protested Colette. "My trend at present may appear to be charitable, but Amarilly and I have a common interest a fellow feeling that makes me wondrous kind. We both have longings to appear in public on the stage."
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.
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