David in the room below pondered, strange to say, the subject of dress. There was some pride beneath it all, of course; there always is behind the great problem of dress. It was the rejected bonnet lying in the corner with its blue ribbons limp and its blue flowers crushed that made that subject paramount among so many others he might have chosen for his night’s meditation.
He was going over to close the parlor window, when he saw the thing lying innocent and discarded in the corner. Though it bore an injured look, it yet held enough of its original aristocratic style to cause him to stop and think.
It was all well enough to suggest that Marcia wear a pink sunbonnet. It sounded deliciously picturesque. She looked lovely in pink and a sunbonnet was pretty and sensible on any one; but the morrow was a great day. David would be seen of many and his wife would come under strict scrutiny. Moreover it was possible that Kate might be upon the scene to jeer at her sister in a sunbonnet. In fact, when he considered it he would not like to take his wife to Albany in a sunbonnet. It behoved him to consider. The outrageous words which he had heard Mistress Leavenworth speak to his wife still burned in his brain like needles of torture: revelation of the true character of the woman he had once longed to call his own.
But that bonnet! He stood and examined it. What was a bonnet like? The proper kind of a bonnet for a woman in his wife’s position to wear. He had never noticed a woman’s bonnet before except as he had absent-mindedly observed them in front of him in meeting. Now he brought his mind to bear upon that bonnet. It seemed to be made up of three component parts—a foundation: a girdle apparently to bind together and tie on the head; and a decoration. Straw, silk and some kind of unreal flowers. Was that all? He stooped down and picked the thing up with the tips of his fingers, held it at arms length as though it were contaminating, and examined the inside. Ah! There was another element in its construction, a sort of frill of something thin,—hardly lace,—more like the foam of a cloud. He touched the tulle clumsily with his thumb and finger and then he dropped the bonnet back into the corner again. He thought he understood well enough to know one again. He stood pondering a moment, and looked at his watch.
Yes, it was still early enough to try at least, though of course the shop would be closed. But the village milliner lived behind her little store. It would be easy enough to rouse her, and he had known her all his life. He took his hat as eagerly as he had done when [as] a boy Aunt Clarinda had given him a penny to buy a top and permission to go to the corner and buy it before Aunt Amelia woke up from her nap. He went quietly out of the door, fastening it behind him and walked rapidly down the street.
Yes, the milliner’s shop was closed, but a light in the side windows shining through the veiling hop-vines guided him, and he was presently tapping at Miss Mitchell’s side door. She opened the door cautiously and peeped over her glasses at him, and then a bright smile overspread her face. Who in the whole village did not welcome David whenever he chanced to come? Miss Mitchell was resting from her labors and reading the village paper. She had finished the column of gossip and was quite ready for a visitor.
“Come right in, David,” she said heartily, for she had known him all the years, “it does a body good to see you though your visits are as few and far between as angels’ visits. I’m right glad to see you! Sit down.” But David was too eager about his business.
“I haven’t any time to sit down to-night, Miss Susan,” he said eagerly, “I’ve come to buy a bonnet. Have you got one? I hope it isn’t too late because I want it very early in the morning.”
“A bonnet! Bless me! For yourself?” said Miss Mitchell from mere force of commercial habit. But neither of them saw the joke, so intent upon business were they. “For my wife, Miss Mitchell. You see she is going with me over to Albany to-morrow morning and we start quite early. We are going to see the new railroad train start, you know, and she seems to think she hasn’t a bonnet that’s suitable.”
“Going to see a steam engine start, are you! Well, take care, David, you don’t get too near. They do say they’re terrible dangerous things, and fer my part I can’t see what good they’ll be, fer nobody’ll ever be willin’ to ride behind ’em, but I’d like to see it start well enough. And that sweet little wife of yours thinks she ain’t got a good enough bonnet. Land sakes! What is the matter with her Dunstable straw, and what’s become of that one trimmed with blue lutestrings, and where’s the shirred silk one she wore last Sunday? They’re every one fine bonnets and ought to last her a good many years yet if she cares fer ’em. The mice haven’t got into the house and et them, hev they?”