Lily Rose's eyes sparkled for a moment, and their light died out.

"Yes, there's really a way," persisted Amarilly, answering the unspoken

denial. "You said you could squeeze out slippers and stockings, didn't

you?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"Well, there's your new white dress skirt, and for a waist there is my

lovely lace waist that I told you about--the one Miss King gave me."

"Your weddin' waist! No, Amarilly. It's like you to offer, but I

couldn't take it from you."

"No, I'm not giving it to you. Just lending it to you for your wedding.

You couldn't hurt it any wearing it two hours. Then I'll lay it by again

till I'm married. And I'll like wearing it all the more because you wore

it to your wedding. Come over some day and we'll try it on. Then Miss

King is going to give you the bouquet, and for a veil--"

"Oh, the veil! Amarilly, I would love a veil!" Lily Rose cried

wistfully.

"Well, I've got one spoken for. You see, Mrs. Jimmels has been married

so many different ways, I felt sure she must have worn a veil at one of

her weddings, and seeing she had been married so many times, I thought

she couldn't have any special feeling about any one of them, so I asked

her if she wouldn't lend hers to you, and she's glad to have it put to

use again. You'll look just perfectly swell, Lily Rose. And she's going

to give you a pair of white gloves that she had when she was slim-like."

The little renunciator went home feeling amply rewarded by the look of

shining content in the blue eyes of Lily Rose.

* * * * * The next night Colette in accordance with her promise to Amarilly

summoned John to council. It was not easy to bridge the distance which

had been steadily increasing with the months that had rolled by since

the surplice denouement, and Colette, formerly supreme in her sway, was

perceptibly timid in making the advance. After writing and tearing up

several notes she called him up by telephone and asked him in a

consciously casual tone if he could find it convenient to call that

evening with reference to a little matter pertaining to their mutual

charge, the Jenkinses.

The grave voice in which he accepted the invitation was tinged with

pleasure.

When he came Colette, fearful lest he should misinterpret her action in

making this overture, plunged at once into the subject.

"I promised Amarilly I would see you and ask you for something in her

friends' behalf."




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