"I—I'm sorry," Russ said, as he saw what had happened.
"Oh, that's all right," the woman answered with a laugh. "You couldn't help it. I have a little boy of my own, and he likes to fly his kite, but he never got it tangled in my hat, that I remember. But it's all right. No harm is done. I can pin my hat on again, but my hair is rather mussed up, I'm afraid."
"You could go into my Aunt Jo's house and fix it," said Russ politely. "She has a looking-glass."
"Has she? That's nice," said the lady with another laugh. "But I have a little one of my own. See!" She opened her purse and showed a tiny, round mirror fastened inside. "If you'll hold that up, so I can see myself in it, I can put my hat on again and it will be all right," she went on.
This Russ did. His kite had fallen to the street, but it was not torn and was all right for putting up again. So he held the woman's mirror, which was in her pocketbook, as well as he could, while she smoothed out her hair and straightened her hat. Then, with a smile and a bow, she said:
"There! Is it all right?"
"It looks nice—just like my mother's," answered Russ, and the woman laughed as she took back her purse.
"Did you lose a pocketbook?" asked Russ.
"No," was the answer. "Why do you ask?"
"'Cause my sister Rose found one, and it had some money in, but nobody ever came to get it."