"I don't see," observed Colette, on learning of the existence and

development of the syndicate, "why the Boarder is in on it. I thought he

was going to have a Lily Rose garden all his own."

"We thought so, too," replied Amarilly. "He's been saving up to get

married, and he's got a raise now, so the day is set for some time in

June; but he told us the night we were first planning to buy the house

that he wanted to be one of the syndicate. You see Lily Rose works--I

mean she overworks--in a factory, and so the Boarder--you know he is

awful gentle-like to her--says that she mustn't keep house or do

anything but real light work after this. He has an interest in the house

now, and he is going to build on a sort of an annex with a sitting-room

and a bedroom and furnish it up fine, and when they are married, they

are going to live there and take their meals with us. And they want Mr.

St. John to marry them, and they want you to come. And Mr. Derry is

coming. He asked to be invited."

For once Colette did not laugh at the chronicles of the Jenkins family.

A very tender look came into her flashing eyes.

"That is very sweet in him--in the Boarder--to feel that way and to be

so tender with Lily Rose. She ought to be very happy with a love and

protection like that awaiting her."

"Yes," assented Amarilly; "it must be very nice to feel like that, and

Mr. Derry says he really believes that it is only with poor folks like

us and the Boarder and Lily Rose that love runs smooth."

"Then," said Colette musingly, "I wish I were poor--like you and the

Boarder and Lily Rose!"

Amarilly secretly divined that this was merely a thought spoken aloud,

so she made no comment. She had pondered a great deal over the attitude

of her two friends towards each other. The only place she ever

encountered them together was at church and to her observing eyes it was

quite apparent that there was a restraint in their bearing. Amarilly

remained so preoccupied with her thoughts that Colette, looking at her

searchingly, became curious as to the cause.

"Amarilly," she commanded, "tell me what you were thinking of just now--

I mean since I spoke last. I shall know by; your eyes if you don't tell

me exactly."

"Mr. Derry says my eyes will always give me away," evaded Amarilly.




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