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Updated: June 10, 2025
If that were a pleasant task the clerk would not have watched him. What caught and kept that functionary's eye was that, whatever else might be revealed by the stranger's aspect, weariness, sickness, hardship, pain, the confession was written all over him, on his face, on his garb, from his hat's crown to his shoe's sole, Penniless! Penniless!
'Tain't a man, so it isn't. Many's the man that's lost his hat, an ain't lost his life. It's a windy place here, an ole Solomon's hat's a mile too big for him, so it is 'deed an it is." Captain Corbet shook his head more gloomily than ever. "Ow, sure an ye needn't be shakin yer head that way. Sure an haven't ye lost hats av yer own, over an over?" "Never," said the captain. "I never lost a hat."
"Then it come to me that I'd drove that plume to school and drove it to meetin' and drove it to the Fair an'drove it most everywheres on Becky. So I reached out a pole an' ketched it fore it got in amongst the logs an' come to any damage, an' here it is! The hat's passed in its checks, I guess; looks kind as if a wet elephant had stepped on it; but the plume's bout's good as new!
Frivolity of Outward Show Dear old Aunt Jane was making a visit in the early spring at the home of her newly-married niece, and spring clothes was the all-absorbing topic of conversation in the family. "I feel sure this hat's not broad enough in the brim, Aunt Jane," said the worldly niece, who wanted to appear just as bewitching to her young husband as she did in her going-away costume.
You're to whip me." Angus McRae was not used to having the law and the judgment taken out of his own hands. He frowned at the young man beneath heavy grizzled eyebrows drawn sternly together. "An' who are you to tell me how to govern my ain hoose?" he demanded. "My name's Morse Tom Morse, Fort Benton, Montana, when my hat's hangin' up.
I do like having these adventures, don't you?" "Yes," said Michael, and looked down into her face. She was extremely pretty, he thought, in the soft dusk of this Northern evening. Her leghorn hat with its wreath of blue forget-me-nots was most becoming and her brown hair was ruffled a little by the hat's hasty donning. "I needn't keep this old cloak on, need I?" she asked.
He watched her descend the shallow flight, and together they went down the passage to the clear drawing-room, where the faded water-colours looked unreal and innocent and ignorant of tragedy. 'What's the matter? he asked. 'Nothing. She looked into the oval mirror which had so often reflected his mother's placid face. 'My hat's a little crooked, she said. He laughed without mirth.
There, while he waited with her for a descending lift, a silk hat that had just come from a malachite bench, alighted from an ascending one. Immediately the other lift took her. "Who was that?" the hat's owner alertly asked. Mr. Purdy rubbed his perspiring hands. "Mrs. Paliser." Jeroloman wheeled like a rat. He looked at the cage. It had vanished. He looked at the other.
I want to tell you that my hat's off to Sam Yesler. "But that ain't what I rose for. I'm going to name for the United States senate a clean man, one who doesn't wear either the Harley or the Ridgway brand. He's as straight as a string, not a crooked hair in his head, and every manjack of you knows it.
Julia smiled at her vaguely, and added to her farewells a daughterly, "Your hat's all right, Mama, but your veil's sort of caught up over your ear. Fix it before you go out. We'll be back here at five " "Or we'll meet you at Monte's," said Connie. The two girls walked briskly down Eddy Street, conscious of their own charms, and conscious of the world about them.
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