"In heaven's name why not?"
"Because 'tis never done sir. Fie, 'tis a curst barbarian act never committed by the 'ton'!"
"But damme, Tom, what are hats for?"
"To show off one's hand sir, to fan one's self gracefully, to be borne negligently 'neath the arm, to point a remark or lend force to an epigram, to woo and make love with, to offend and insult with, 'tis for a thousand and one things, sir, but never O never to put on one's head—'tis a practice unmodish, reprehensible and altogether damnable!"
"Tom," said the Major, looking a little dazed, "now look'ee, Tom, I'm no town gallant nor ever shall be, to me a hat is a hat, and as such I shall use it——"
"But reflect sir, consider how it will discommode your peruke."
"Tom, well-nigh all my days I have worn a uniform and consequently any other garments feel strange on me—these cursedly so. But since I've bought 'em, I'll wear 'em my own way. And now, since 'tis a fine evening, I'll walk abroad and try to get a little used to 'em."
Saying which the Major clapped on his hat a little defiantly and strode out of the room.
In the wide hall he met Mrs. Agatha and conscious of her glance of surprised approval, felt himself flushing as he acknowledged her curtsey; thereafter on his way out he stepped aside almost stealthily to avoid one of the neat housemaids; even when out in the air he still felt himself a mark for eyes that peeped unseen and hastened his steps accordingly.
And now, as luck would have it, he came upon the Sergeant busied at one of the yew hedges with a pair of shears; checking a momentary impulse to dodge out of sight, the Major advanced and touched him with his gold-mounted cane. The Sergeant turned, stared, opened his mouth, shut it again and came to attention.