"I liked it so much, I liked him so much, I'd ruther not talk about it."

Colette stooped and kissed the freckled little face, to the utter
astonishment of those standing near and to the complete felicity of John
Meredith, who was a witness of the little scene though he did not hear
the conversation.

Amarilly walked homeward, her uplifted face radiant with happiness.

"The flowers, the lights, oh, it was great!" she thought. "Bud could
sing like that if he was learnt. He couldn't look like that surplused
boy, though. He sorter made me think of Little Eva in the play they give
down to Milt's school. I wish Bud's hair was yaller and curly instead of
black and straight!"

Amarilly's reminiscences next carried her to the look she had seen in
the rector's eyes when he beheld Colette coming out of the church.

"It was the look Lord Algernon tried to give Lady Cecul," she thought,
"only he couldn't do it, 'cause it wasn't in Him to give. And it
couldn't never be in him the same as 't is in Mr. St. John and Miss
King. It ain't in her yet to see what was in his eyes. Some day when she
gits more feelin's, mebby 't will be, though."

When Amarilly had faithfully pictured the service to the household,
Bud's anaemic face grew eager.

"Take me with yer, Amarilly, next time, won't yer?" he pleaded.