"It was fer him—fer Mr. St. John I done it," she began in explanation, and then she proceeded to relate the particulars of her scheme and its accomplishment.
She had but just finished this narrative when suddenly in the line of her vision came the form of the young rector himself. He had been ushered out by the Boarder, who was still actively engaged in "redding up."
"I came to call upon you, for I consider you one of my parishioners now," he said to Amarilly, his face flushing at the unexpected encounter with Colette.
Amarilly breathed a devout prayer of thankfulness that the last surplice had been removed and was now being put to soak by her mother.
Colette's eyes were dancing with the delight of mischief-making as she directed, in soft but mirthful tones:
"Tell Mr. St. John about your choir and concert."
Amarilly's eyes lowered in consternation. She was in great awe of this young man whose square chin was in such extreme contradiction to his softly luminous eyes, and she began to feel less fortified by the reminder of the "cause."
"I'd ruther not," she faltered.
"Then don't, Amarilly," he said gently.
"Mebby that's why I'd orter," she acknowledged, lifting serious eyes to his. "You said that Sunday that we wa'n't to turn out of the way fer hard things."