Hats of various shapes and degrees hung upon the rack. There was the broad-brimmed straw in which Judge Jenks appeared the country squire; there was the little cloth cap in which he rode the waves a gallant mariner; there was the soft felt which suited rough-and-ready moods; there was the second-best beaver; and there was the best beaver, known to Billy and his sisters as the “Pet and Pride.”
The choice to-day fell on the “Pet and Pride.”
“Good luck!” thought Billy. “I can get anything out of him when he’s petting that hat.”
“Well, my son,” said papa, holding the hat in one hand and passing the other caressingly around and around the crown, until the fur lay in silkiest smoothness.
But Billy waited until the hat was on, and papa surveyed the result in the mirror. It gave him an elegant judicial aspect, and was vastly becoming beyond a doubt.
“Now’s my time,” thought Billy.
“Father,” said he, “I’d like to have a little talk with you—a little discussion on a certain subject.”
“What is it?” said papa. “The Greenback movement? Or have you been catching Communism from Pat? What is it, Billy? Have you got the questions of the day settled for us? Which shall it be: hard or soft money, free-trade or the tariff?”
“I’m not just up on those matters, sir,” said Billy. “It’s a different subject.”
“Well,” said papa, giving the “Pet and Pride” a parting glance, ere he walked to the door, “well, Billy, what is it?”