Amarilly of Clothes-line Alley

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.