A sudden thought illumined her face. "I believe I will tell him—"
Amarilly deemed it a fitting time to depart, and she hastened to assure
Lily Rose that it was "all right."
"Miss King will speak to Mr. St. John about marrying you, and she will ask him to wear our surplice. She's going to send you flowers—lilies of the valley and roses. It all would be perfect, Lily Rose, if only you had a white dress!"
Lily Rose smiled sweetly, and told Amarilly she was glad to be married in any dress, and that she should not miss the "reg'ler weddin' fixin's" nearly as much as Amarilly would mind her not having them. When Amarilly set her head and heart on anything, however, it was sure to be accomplished. It was a puzzling problem to equip Lily Rose in the conventional bridal white vestments, for the bride-to-be was very proud and independent and wouldn't hearken to Amarilly's plea to be allowed to contribute toward a new dress.
"We're under obligations to him, you know," argued Amarilly "and I'd like to help him by helping you."
Lily Rose was strong of will despite her sweet smile.
Deep down in her heart Amarilly, throughout all her scheming, knew there was a way, but she chose to ignore it until the insistent small voice spoke louder and louder. With a sigh of renunciation she yielded to the inevitable and again sought Lily Rose.
"I've thought out a way to the white dress," she announced.
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?"