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."