Ever apt in following a lead, Amarilly at once resolved to establish a
regular costuming business. It even occurred to her to hire out the lace
waist, but thoughts of wedding bells prevailed against her impulse to
open this branch of the business.
When the young tenor returned the surplice he informed Amarilly that two
young ladies of his acquaintance were going to give a home entertainment
for charity. Among the impromptu acts would be some tableaux, and the
surplice was needed for a church scene. So the new venture brought in
another dollar that week.
One day Bud came home capless, having crossed a bridge in a high wind.
"I seen an ad," said the thrifty Flamingus, "that the Beehive would give
away baseball caps to-day."
Amarilly immediately set out for the Beehive, an emporium of fashion in
the vicinity of the theatre. It was the noon hour, and there were no
other customers in evidence.
The proprietor and a clerk were engaged in discussing the design for a
window display, and were loath to notice their would-be beneficiary.
Finally the clerk drawled out: "Did you want anything, little girl?"
"I called," explained Amarilly with grandiose manner, "to git one of
them caps you advertised to give away."
"Oh, those were all given out long ago. You should have come earlier,"
he replied with an air of relief, as he turned to resume the
all-absorbing topic with the proprietor.
Amarilly's interest in the window display dispelled any disappointment
she might have had in regard to Bud's head covering.
"Now," said the clerk didactically, "my idea is this. Have a wedding--a
church wedding. I can rig up an altar, and we'll have the bride in a
white, trailing gown; the groom, best man, and ushers in dress suits to
advertise our gents' department, the bridesmaids and relatives in
different colored evening dresses, and in this way we can announce our
big clearing sale of summer goods in the ready-to-wear department. It'll
make a swell window and draw crowds. Women can never get by a wedding."
"That's a dandy idea, Ben," approved the proprietor.
"Oh, I am a winner on ideas," vaunted the clerk chestily.
So was Amarilly. She stepped eagerly up to the window designer.
"Do you keep surpluses?"
"No; don't know what they are," replied the clerk shortly, turning from
her. "We'll get a wreath of orange flowers for the bride, and then we
can have a child carrying the ring, so as to call attention to our
children's department."