Amarilly of Clothes-line Alley

Colette King was not one whom the voice of the people of St. Mark's

would proclaim as the personification of their ideal of a pastor's wife,

yet John Meredith loved her with the love that passeth all

understanding. Perhaps the secret of her charm for him lay in the fact

that she treated him as she did other men--men who did not wear a

surplice. And yet his surplice and all that pertained thereto were

matters of great moment to the rector of St. Mark's. Little traces of

his individuality were evident in the fashioning of this clerical

garment. A pocket for his handkerchief was stitched on the left side.

The flowers, the baptismal font, the altar cloth, and the robes of the

vested choir he insisted should be immaculate in whiteness. White, the

color of the lily, he declared, was the emblem of purity. There were

members of his flock so worldly minded as to whisper insinuatingly that

white was extremely becoming to Colette King. Many washerwomen had

applied for the task of laundering the ecclesiastical linen; many had

been tried and found wanting. So after her interview with Amarilly,

Colette asked the rector of St. Mark's to call at her house "on

important 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, Henry

King, and had ever cheerfully and gladly borne with the caprices of the

little Colette.

He answered the present summons promptly and palpitatingly. It had been

two weeks since he had remonstrated with Colette for the surprisingly

sudden announcement, made in seeming seriousness, that she was going to

study opera with a view to going on the stage. The fact that she had a

light, sweet soprano adapted only to the rendition of drawing-room

ballads did not lessen in his eyes the probability of her carrying out

this resolve.

She had met his reproving expostulations in a spirit of bantering

raillery and replied with a defiance of his opinion that had pierced his

heart with arrow-like swiftness. Since then she had studiously avoided

meeting him, and he was not sure whether he was now recalled to listen

to a reiteration of her intentions or to receive an anodyne for the

bitterness of her remarks at their last interview.

"I sent for you, John," she said demurely and without preamble, "to see

if you have found a satisfactory laundress yet for the surplices."

"Colette!" he exclaimed in rebuking tone, his face reddening at her

question which he supposed to be made in mere mockery.