THE BLUE HAT.
Nancy came softly into my study and stood at the side of the desk, where I was busy with some work on account of which I had stayed away from the office that morning.
"Do you like it?" she said.
I felt a momentary anxiety as I looked up. I had made a bad mistake only a little time before, having waxed enthusiastic over what I took to be a new blouse when it was a question of hair-dressing, the blouse having been worn by my wife, so she solemnly averred, "every evening for the last two months."
But this time no mistake was possible. You don't go about the house at eleven o'clock on a cold Spring morning fancifully arrayed in a pale blue hat with white feathery things sticking out all round it, unless there is a particular reason for so doing.
"I think it's a delightful hat," I said, "and suits you splendidly. But I thought you never wore blue?"
"I don't," said Nancy; "that's what makes me rather doubtful. I didn't really mean to buy it at all. I went in to Marguerite's—you know, that heavenly shop at the corner of the square"—I nodded; of course I knew Marguerite's—"to ask the price of a jade-green jumper they had in the window—oh, my dear, a perfect angel of a jumper!—and they showed me this. That red-haired assistant almost made me buy it; said she had never seen me in a hat that suited me so well; and really it wasn't so very dear. But I was a little doubtful. However—"
"She was quite right," I said very decidedly. "Did you get the what-you-may-call-it—the other thing?"
Nancy's face expressed poignant anguish.
"Twelve guineas," she said. "I simply couldn't run to it. Of course I was heart-broken. Still, it wasn't as if I really needed anything just now. It would have been ridiculous extravagance. But it really was an angel."
She turned to go, stopping a moment on the way out to have another look at herself in the little round mirror over the mantel-piece.
"I'm not quite happy about it," I heard her murmur as she went out.
The next morning I found a letter waiting for me at the office which brought me news of a totally unexpected windfall of some fifty odd pounds. It was a sunny morning, too, with a distinct feeling of Spring in the air.
I felt like being extravagant, and my mind flew at once to Nancy and her jade-green—what was the name of the thing?—that she had wanted so badly.
I left the office early, and on my way home managed to summon up sufficient courage to carry me through the discreetly curtained doors of Madame Marguerite's recherché establishment, devoutly hoping that the nervous sinking which I felt about my heart was not reflected in my outer demeanour.
The red-haired girl, in spite of a curiously detached and supercilious air, as who should say, "Take it or leave it; it concerns me not in the least," which at first rather alarmed me, was really quite kind and helpful.
"Something in jade-green that Moddom admired? A hat perhaps?"
No, I knew it was not a hat. I murmured something about twelve guineas. This seemed to be enlightening.
Ah, yes, a jumper probably. They had had a jade-green jumper at that price, she believed. If I would sit down for a moment she would send someone to see if it were still unsold.
I felt very anxious while I waited, but the emissary presently returned with the garment over her arm.
Yes, that was undoubtedly the one. She remembered how much Moddom had admired it. It had suited Moddom so well too.
While it was being packed up, for I decided to take it with me, a small boy arrived with several hat-boxes, which he put down on the floor.
Red-hair proceeded to unpack them, carefully, almost reverently, extracting the hats from the folds of surrounding tissue-paper and placing them one by one in various cupboards and drawers. Presently she drew forth from one of the boxes—I felt sure I was not mistaken—that very blue hat which I had admired only the day before upon the head of my wife.
I gave an involuntary exclamation. Red-hair looked at me.
"Surely," I said, feeling inwardly rather proud at recognising it again—"surely that hat is exactly like one that my wife bought yesterday."
Red-hair was hurt. "It is the same hat," she said coldly. "We never make two models alike."
I tried to mollify her. "I can't understand her sending it back," I said. "I think it's an extremely pretty hat, and it suits her so well. But perhaps there was some alteration necessary. It may not have quite fitted or something?"
Red-head dived gracefully into the box and drew forth a note from the tissue-paper billows.
A faint flicker expressive of I knew not what hidden emotion seemed to pass for one moment over her aristocratic features as she read it. But it vanished instantaneously, and she turned to me with her previous air of haughty and imperturbable aloofness.
"Moddom is not keeping the hat," she said.
I felt somehow a little snubbed, and said no more, and, my parcel appearing at this moment, I paid and departed.
Nancy's joy over the jumper more than came up to my expectations. When she had calmed down a little I bethought myself of the matter of the hat.
"Oh, yes," said Nancy in reply to my question, "I sent it back after all. It won't matter in the least now that you have bought this."
"But why didn't you keep it?" I said.
"Well, I really felt I didn't like it so very much," said Nancy, "and, as you didn't seem quite to like it either—"
"My dear girl," I protested, "I told you I thought it was charming."
"Well, anyway you said that blue didn't suit me," persisted my wife. "You did, George."
There was a moment's pause. It was no use saying anything. Suddenly Nancy jumped up and clutched me by the arm.
"George," she said anxiously, "you didn't, you didn't say anything about that hat to the girl in the shop, did you?"
"I believe I mentioned that I thought it was extremely pretty, and that I was sorry you weren't keeping it," I replied airily. "But why?" For my wife's face had suddenly assumed an expression of horrified dismay.
"I shall never be able to go into that shop again," she wailed, "never. I wrote them a note saying that I was not keeping the hat because my husband very much disliked it, and that I didn't care ever to wear anything of which he didn't approve."
What is really very unfair about the whole thing is that I know that Nancy thinks me entirely to blame. Indeed she told me so. When I ventured to point out that she had not been quite truthful in the matter she was at first genuinely and honestly amazed, and subsequently so indignant that I was fain ultimately to apologise.
In looking back upon the episode I am filled with admiration for the red-haired girl. I consider that she showed extraordinary self-restraint in what must have been a peculiarly tempting situation.
R.F.
Raw Hand (at sea for first time and observing steamer's red and green lights). "'ERE'S SOME LIGHTS ON THE STARBOARD SIDE, SIR."
Officer. "WELL, WHAT IS IT?"
R.H. "LOOKS TO ME LIKE A CHEMIST'S SHOP, SIR."