He produced his hat from a cupboard in the room, and put it on. It would have been a pity indeed for him to have gone without it. It was a white derby; yes, a white derby. It was the kind of a hat which was known in that city as a "pinochle"; pronounced "pea-knuckle" by all well-informed boys. With the mauve suit and the hand-painted necktie and the whitewashed fence, the white derby set him off to perfection, especially as he wore it a little towards the back of his head, so as to show the loveliest part of the plastered curl of his hair on the forehead. Aunt Amanda could not restrain her admiration.
"You'll do now," she said. "I don't know that I ever seen you look so genteel before."
Toby, in the embarrassment of being considered genteel, put his hands in his trousers pockets.
"Take them hands out of your pockets," said Aunt Amanda sharply, and he took them out in a hurry.
"Now, Freddie," she said, "come here a minute, and I'll set you to rights."
Freddie stood before her knee, not very willingly, and she buttoned his jacket from top to bottom, and put his cap squarely on his head.
"Now you'd better be off," she said.
"Good-bye, Aunt, and I wish you were going too," said Toby, his hand on the door-knob.
"Good-bye, Freddie," said she.
"Good-bye," said Freddie.