Amarilly of Clothes-line Alley

At the conclusion of the sermon the rector with a slight tremor in his

mellifluous voice pronounced the benediction. Amarilly's eyes shone with

a light that Lord Algernon's most eloquent passages could never have

inspired.

The organ again gave forth its rich tones, and a young, fair-haired boy

with the face of a devotee arose and turned toward the congregation, his

face uplifted to the oaken rafters. A flood of sunshine streamed through

the painted window and fell in long slanting rays upon the spiritual

face. The exquisite voice rose and fell in silvery cadence, the soft

notes fluting out through the vast space and reaching straight to

Amarilly's heart which was beating in unison to the music. "Oh," she

thought wistfully, "if Pete Noyes was only like him!"

She responded to the offertory with a penny, which lay solitary and

outlawed on the edge of a contribution plate filled with envelopes and

bank bills. The isolated coin caught the eye of the young rector as he

received the offerings, and his gaze wandered wonderingly over his

fashionable congregation. It finally rested upon the small, eager-eyed

face of his washerwoman's daughter, and a look of angelic sweetness came

into his brown eyes with the thought: "Even the least of these!"

Colette, statuesque and sublime, caught the flash of radiance that

illumined the face of her pastor, and her heart-strings responded with a

little thrill.

There was another fervent prayer in low, pleading tones, after which

followed the recessional, the choir-boys chanting their solemn measures.

Amarilly in passing out saw John, clad in a long, tight-fitting black

garment, 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 vawdyveel

that Pete was tellin' of!"

Then two wonderful, heart-throbbing things happened. John took

Amarilly's saffron-clad hand in his and told her in earnest, convincing

tones how glad he was that she had come, and that he should look for her

every 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 that

infinitesimal space of time there came into his eyes a dazzling flash of

light that was like a revelation to the sharp-eyed little girl, who,

following the direction of his glance, beheld Colette. Then came the

second triumph. Colette, smiling, shook hands with her and praised her

attire.

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

theatre?"