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."