It was a hat. A dark hat, yet not too dark, elegant, yet not noticeable, with a chaste outline, a temperate, subdued richness of effect that spoke volumes to the initiated. No wonder that Mrs. Briarley’s eyes were glued to it as she held it in her hand. It was a hat that could rise to the occasion of state garments or impart “style” to one’s ordinary garb. It was a hat, in short, that could be Worn with Anything.
Mrs. Briarley turned it round and inspected it with a growing wonder. The white satin lining looked new, and the structure itself showed no sign of wear but two holes through which a hatpin had been thrust.
There were people who gave away things as little used as this. Mrs. Stebbins had spoken of it. If she herself had ever possessed a hat like this,—her thought went in leaps,—if it were not a rummage hat! But what if it were? Would any one know? There were many hats made on the same order. With a slight change in the front trimming—of course you didn’t know who had worn it before, but there was a subtle odour of violet about it that was reassuring.
“How much is this hat?” asked Mrs. Briarley, suddenly, in an odd voice.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said the girl who had spoken before, looking around to catch a glimpse of it. “I sold a hat for fifteen cents just before you came in.”
“This is very good,” said Mrs. Briarley.
“Ask a quarter for it, then. For goodness’ sake, Gladys, don’t you get faint!”
“I’ll take it myself,” said Mrs. Briarley, hastily. “My—my cook might like it.” She put it back in the box and tied the string around it. “The atmosphere in here is dreadful, isn’t it? Can’t I help you open that window? Here’s the money. Good-bye!”
She had done it! She could hardly believe in the miracle. Not only would she have the happy thrill of responding to the appeal with her own precious and individual five dollars, but the very price she had paid for the hat went to the cause also, and she had money left over besides! And she had the hat!