"And now for the hats; here they come!" announced her companion, as a languid European assistant appeared with two in either hand.
"Oh, how lovely!" cried Angel, setting down the glass and clasping her hands in rapturous admiration.
These hats, be it known, were the usual stock in trade of a native shop up country, models that no sane woman in England would purchase or be seen in; massive satin or velvet structures, with lumps of faded flowers and tarnished gilt buckles, one more preposterous than another, all equally dusty, tumbled, and expensive, and all intended for full-grown wearers—if such could be beguiled into buying them. Gascoigne took a seat and proceeded to watch his protégée's proceedings with the keenest amusement, and exhibited no desire to cut short her few blissful moments. Angel was absolutely happy, not had been, or was to be, but actually happy in the present moment—and the sight of such a condition is extremely rare.
The mite in short frock treated the shopwoman with all the airs of a grown customer, and was even more difficile and critical than her own mamma. First she tried on one hat, then another; and to see the little top-heavy figure, glass in hand, strutting and backing in front of a great spotty mirror, and contemplating herself from every point of view with the most anxious solemnity, was to all concerned a truly entertaining spectacle. Several torpid assistants had collected at a respectable distance, enjoying the comedy with faint grins as Angel gravely appeared, and disappeared, under various monstrosities. For a time she was sorely divided between a scarlet plush tam-o'-shanter and a green straw with yellow flowers. Finally it was a bright blue satin toque with mother-of-pearl buckles which captured her affections. She put it on, and took it off, then put it on again, whilst Gascoigne and the European attendant watched her attentively.
"I say, Angel, that won't do," he said, breaking the spell at last; "no, nor any single one of the lot. You'd look like an owl in an ivy bush."
"Oh, Philip, not really," she protested, and her eyes grew large with amazement.
"No, none of them are suitable. That thing you've on weighs pounds; you'd want a man to carry it. I'll tell you what, perhaps this young lady here will fit you out with a nice straw hat, and trim it."
"Oh, yes, sir," she assented briskly. "I believe I have what will answer exactly," producing a pile of plain straws. "Try this on, missy."
But it was such a bare, uninteresting-looking article. Two great tears stood in Angel's eyes. These she bravely winked away, and said with a gulp, "Very well, Phil; I suppose you know best."
"I'll make it so smart, missy," said the sympathetic attendant, "with big bows of fresh white ribbon."