The season was now summer. Some time ago John Meredith had gone to the seashore and the King family to their summer home in the mountains, unaware that the fever had spread over so wide an area in the Jenkins domain. The theatre and St. Mark's were closed for the rest of the summer. The little boys found that their positions had been filled during the period of quarantine. None of these catastrophes, however, could be compared to the calamity of the realization that Bud alone of all the patients had not convalesced completely. He was a delicate little fellow, and he grew paler and thinner each day. In desperation Amarilly went to the doctor. "Bud don't pick up," she said bluntly. "I feared he wouldn't," replied the doctor. "Can't you try some other kinds of medicines?" "I can, but I am afraid that there is no medicine that will help him very much." Amarilly turned pale. "Is there anything else that will help him?" she demanded fiercely. "If he could go to the seashore he might brace up. Sea air would work wonders for him." "He shall go," said Amarilly with determination. "I can get a week for him through the Fresh Air Fund," suggested the doctor. He succeeded in getting two weeks, and, that time was extended another fortnight through the benevolence of Mr. Vedder. Bud returned a study in reds and browns. "The sea beats the theayter and the church all to smitherines, Amarilly!" he declared jubilantly. "I kin go to work now." "No!" said Amarilly resolutely. "You air goin' to loaf through this hot weather until church and school open." The family fund once more had a modest start. Mrs. Jenkins obtained a few of her old customers, Bobby got a paper route, Flamingus and Milton were again at work, but Amarilly, Gus, and Cory were without vocations. Soon after the quarantine was lifted Amarilly went forth to deliver the surplice and the waist which had hung familiarly side by side during the weeks of trouble. The housekeeper at the rectory greeted her kindly and was most sympathetic on learning of the protracted confinement. She made Amarilly a present of the surplice. "Mr. Meredith said you were to keep it. He thought your mother might find it useful. It is good linen, you know, and you can cut it up into clothes for the children. He has so many surplices, he won't miss this one." "I'll never cut it up!" thought Amarilly as she reverently received the robe. "I'll keep it in 'membrance of him." "It's orful good in him to give it to us," she said gratefully to the housekeeper. That worthy woman smiled, remembering how the fastidious young rector had shrunk from the thought of wearing a fumigated garment. At the King residence Amarilly saw the caretaker, who gave her a similar message regarding the lace waist. "I'll keep it," thought Amarilly with a shy little blush, "until I'm merried. It'll start my trousseau."