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." "A surplus," explained Amarilly, scornful of such avowed ignorance, "is the white gown that Episcopal ministers wear." "No; we don't keep them," was the impatient rejoinder. "Well, I hev one," she said, addressing the proprietor this time, "a real minister's, and I'll rent it to you to put on your figger of the minister in your wedding window. He'll hev to wear one." "I am not an Episcopalian," said the proprietor hesitatingly. "What do you think, Ben?" "Well, it hadn't occurred to me to have an Episcopal wedding, but I don't know but what it would work out well, after all. It would make it attract notice more, and women are always daffy over Episcopal weddings. They like classy things. We could put a card in the window, saying all the clergy bought the linen for their surplices here. How," turning to Amarilly, "did you happen to have such an article?" "We do the washin' fer St. Mark's church, and the minister give us one of his surpluses." "The display will be in for six days. What will you rent it for that long?" "I allers git a dollar a night fer it," replied Amarilly. "Too much!" declared the clerk. "I'll give you fifty cents a day." "I'll let it go six days fer four dollars," bargained Amarilly.