She took the garments home, not mentioning to anyone the gift of the waist, however, for that was to be her secret--her first secret. She hid this nest-egg of her trousseau in an old trunk which she fastened securely. On the next day she was summoned to help clean the theatre, which had been rented for one night by the St. Andrew's vested choir, whose members were to give a sacred concert. A rehearsal for this entertainment was being held when Amarilly arrived. "These surplices are all too long or too short for me," complained the young tenor, who had recently been engaged for the solo parts. Amarilly surveyed him critically. "He's jest about Mr. St. John's size," she mused, "only he ain't so fine a shape." With the thought came an inspiration that brought a quickly waged battle. It seemed sacrilegious, although she didn't express it by that word, to permit another to wear a garment so sacred to the memory of Mr. Meredith, but poverty, that kill-sentiment, had fully developed the practical side of Amarilly. She made answer to her stabs of conscience by action instead of words, going straight to her friend, the ticket-seller. "That feller," she said, indicating the tenor, "ain't satisfied with the fit of his surplus. I've got one jest his size. It's done up spick and span clean, and I'll rent it to him fer the show. He kin hev it fer the ev'nin' fer a dollar. Would you ask him fer me?" "Certainly, Amarilly," he agreed. He came back to her, smiling. "He'll take it, but he seems to think your charge rather high--more than that of most costumers, he said." "This ain't no common surplus," defended Amarilly loftily. "It was wore by the rector of St. Mark's, and he give it to me. It's of finer stuff than the choir surpluses, and it hez got a cross worked onto it, and a pocket in it, too." "Of course such inducements should increase the value," confirmed Mr. Vedder gravely, and he proceeded to hold another colloquy with the twinkling-eyed tenor. Amarilly went home for the surplice and received therefor the sum of one dollar, which swelled the Jenkins's purse perceptibly. And here began the mundane career of the minister's surplice. CHAPTER VIII 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."