"Sure thing!" she acknowledged frankly.
"Where did you get it?"
If he had been a young man, Amarilly would have cheerfully reminded him
that it was none of his business, but, a respecter of age, she loftily
informed him that it had been "give to her."
"By whom?" he persisted.
Perceiving her reluctance to answer, he added gently: "I am a bishop of the Episcopal Church, and I cannot endure to see a
surplice in such a place as this."
A bishop! This was worse than a reporter even. St. John would surely
hear of it! But she felt that an explanation was due the calling of her
interlocutor.
She lifted righteous eyes to his.
"My mother works for one of the churches, and the minister, he give us
this to cut up into clo'es fer the chillern, but we didn't cut it up.
I'm agoin' to leave it here till the rent's paid, and we git the money
to take it outen hock."
The bishop's eyes softened, and lost their look of shocked dignity.
"I will advance you the money," he offered. "I would much prefer to do
so than to have it left here. How much money do you need to pay your
rent?"
"We need five dollars," said Amarilly, "to pay the balance of it. But I
wouldn't take it from you. I ain't no beggar. I don't believe, nuther,"
she continued, half to herself, "that Mr. St. John would like it."
"Who is Mr. St. John?" he asked curiously. "I know of no such rector in
this diocese. My child, you have an honest face. Since you won't accept
a gift of money, I will lend, you the amount. I want you to tell me all
about yourself and this surplice."
"Well, mebby he'd want me to," reflected Amarilly.
"Gimme back that surplus," she said to the Jew, who seemed loath to
relinquish his booty.
As she walked up the street with the bishop, she frankly related the
family history and the part Mr. Meredith and the surplice had played
therein.
The bishop had generous instincts, and a desire to reach the needy
directly instead of through the medium of institutions, but he had never
known just how to approach them. His presence in this unknown part of
the city had been unpremeditated, but he welcomed the chance that had
led his steps hither to perform an errand of mercy. He handed Amarilly
five dollars, and wrote down her address. He was most reluctant to
receive the surplice as security, but Amarilly's firm insistence was not
to be overcome. She returned home, rejoicing in the knowledge that she
had the price of their happy home in her pocket. The bishop had given
her his card, which she laid in a china saucer with other bits of
pasteboard she had collected from Derry Phillips, Mr. Vedder, and Pete
Noyes. The saucer adorned a small stand in the dining-room part of the
house.