Amarilly of Clothes-line Alley

Wonderingly Amarilly opened it and took out a folded, engraved sheet of

thick paper. She read eagerly, and two little spots of pink came into

her cheeks.

"Oh, oh!" she cried, looking up with shining eyes, which in another

moment 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, you

couldn't get in to see us married. It's the same as a ticket to a

theatre. And St. John doesn't like it; but if we didn't have them there

would be a mob of curious people who don't know us. I shall give all of

you 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 was

developing 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 reception

here at the house, and I am going to have a lovely white dress made for

you to wear, and you shall have white silk stockings and slippers and

white gloves."

"Oh!" gasped Amarilly, shutting her eyes. "I can't believe it."

The next morning at the studio she announced the wonderful news to

Derry.

"I just received an invitation, myself," he replied. "We will go

together, Amarilly. I'll send you flowers and call for you with a

taxicab."

"Things must stop happening to me," said Amarilly solemnly. "I can't

stand much more."

Derry laughed.

"When things once begin to happen, Amarilly, they never stop. You are to

go from here now every day after luncheon to this address," handing her

a card.

"'Miss Varley,'" Amarilly read. "'1227, Winter Street.' Will she have

work for me, too?"

"Yes; work in schoolbooks. She takes a few private pupils, and I have

engaged her to teach you. I really think you should have instruction in

other branches than English and art and arithmetic."