Sube scowled. "Who'd you give it to?" he asked peevishly, with an insane idea of getting it back.
"To some women who were soliciting for the destitute Belgians," she answered. "You ought to be very glad to help such a worthy cause."
"What were their names?"
"I'm sure I don't know. They were representatives of the Red Cross Society who had come all the way down from Rochester."
And Sube went out of the house wronged and brooding, and threw himself down on the grass near the kitchen door, where Gizzard joined him a short time later.
"Now, what do you know about that, Giz?" growled Sube, as Gizzard jumped up and caught a limb of the apple tree and started to skin the cat. "They went and gave away my Wild West hat."
Although the cat was only partially skinned, Gizzard delayed the operation long enough to remark that it was no great loss anyway.
"I guess you don't know the hat I mean," returned Sube warmly. "I mean the hat that Buffalo Bill wore in the Indian fight, and got a bullet-hole through!"
Gizzard dropped to the ground. "If you mean that ol' felt hat you found on the Fair Grounds the day after the circus," he said without mercy, "I know that one."
The authenticity of this hat had long been disputed; and even now, after it was gone, Gizzard was unwilling to concede to it any of the virtues with which Sube's imagination had clothed it. And in addition to this, Gizzard had grievances of his own. The solicitors had by no means passed him by.