The hat was the chief difficulty. On week days she wore none, but of
course St. Mark's demanded a headgear of some kind, and at last Mrs.
Jenkins triumphantly produced one of Tam o' Shanter shape manufactured
from a lamp mat and adorned with some roses bestowed by the leading
lady. The belligerent locks of the little scrub-girl refused to respond
to advances from curling iron or papers, but one of the neighbors whose
hair was a second cousin in hue to Amarilly's amber tresses, loaned some
frizzes, which were sewed to the brim of the new hat. The problem of
hand covering was solved by Mr. Vedder, as a pair of orange-tinted
gloves had been turned in at the box-office by an usher, and had
remained unclaimed. They proved a perfect fit, and were the supreme
triumph of the bizarre costume.

Not even Solomon in all his glory was arrayed in splendor greater than
that displayed by Amarilly when she set forth on Sunday morning for St.
Mark's. Promptness was ever Amarilly's chief characteristic, and she
arrived long in advance of the ushers. This gave her an opportunity to
sample several pews before finally selecting one whose usual occupants,
fortunately, were out of the city.

The vastness and stillness of the edifice, disturbed now and then by
silken rustle and soft-shod foot were bewildering to Amarilly. She
experienced a slight depression until the vibrating tones of the organ
fell softly upon the air. The harmony grew more subdued, ceased, and was
succeeded by another moment of solemn silence. Then a procession of
white-robed choristers came down the aisle, their well-trained voices
ringing out in carolling cadence.