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."