"Wat's his name?"

"St. John, of course. And most people call him a rector, but really your
name suits him best. He does preach--sometimes--to me."

At the end of the week Colette again sent for John--to call "on laundry
business"--her little note read.

"I couldn't wait," she said when he came, "to learn how Mrs. Jenkins
pleased you. My waists were most beautifully laundered. She is certainly
a Madonna of the Tubs."

"You have indeed secured a treasure for me, Colette. The linen is
immaculate, and she shall have the laundering of it regularly."

"I am so glad!" exclaimed Colette fervently. "They need it so much, and
they are so anxious to please. Amarilly was so apprehensive--"

John's face had become radiant.

"It is sweet in you to be interested, Colette, and--"

"I wish you would see her," said Colette, ignoring his commendatory
words and voice. "She's an odd little character. I invited her to
luncheon the other day, and the courses and silver never disturbed her
apparently. She watched me closely, however, and followed my moves as
precisely as a second oarsman. By the way, she called you St. Mark. I
know some people consider you and St. Mark's as synonymous, but I
explained the difference. She tells me absorbingly interesting stories
of theatre life--the life behind the scenes. You see the 'scent of the