"Yes, Miss King. And are you going to tell him it is found?"
"No, Amarilly; not until to-morrow night, so don't say anything about it to him."
The rector looked up with a welcoming smile when Amarilly was shown into his study.
"I came with a note from her," she said with a glad little intonation in her voice.
John took it eagerly. His face fell at the first few words which told him not to call for her to-morrow night on the way to the wedding, but it brightened amazingly when he read the reason—the adjusting of Lily Rose's bridal veil; it fairly radiated joy when he read:
"I am not going to be disagreeable to—anyone to-morrow. I shall 'let my light shine' on Lily Rose and—every one. If you will keep your carriage to-morrow night, I will send mine away and ride home with you."
CHAPTER XXIV
On the night of the auspicious occasion, Mrs. Jenkins's home presented a scene of festivity. Neighbors had loaned their lamps, and the brakeman had hung out his red lantern in token of welcome and cheer. It was, however, mistaken by some of the guests as a signal of danger, and they were wary of their steps lest they be ditched. Mrs. Hudgers ventured the awful prognostication that "mebby some of them Jenkins brats had gone and got another of them ketchin' diseases."
When they entered the house there was a general exclamation of admiration. The curtain partitions had been removed, and the big room was beautifully decorated with festoons and masses of green interspersed with huge bunches of June roses.
Derry and Flamingus received the guests. Upstairs the Boarder and the brakeman were nervously awaiting the crucial moment. The door into the Annex was closed, for in the sitting-room was the little bride, her pale cheeks delicately tinted from excitement as Colette artistically adjusted the bridal veil, fastening it with real orange blossoms. Amarilly hovered near in an ecstasy which was perforce silent on account of her mouth being full of pins.