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Updated: June 2, 2025
"If you come to Boston, I hope I shall see Mrs. Rogers." "She will be happy to have you call," said Mr Rogers. He touched his hat-brim, and made a bow forward rather than in Mrs. Lapham's direction. She mounted the planking that led into the shelter of the bare brick walls, and her husband slowly followed.
Evidently she was still shocked and grieved. Weary tipped his head to one side so that be might look up at her from under his hat-brim. "I'll get yuh another gopher; six, if yuh say so," he soothed, "The woods is full of 'em." The angry, brown eyes of Miss Satterly swept the barren hills contemptuously. She would not even look at him. "Pray do not inconvenience yourself, Mr. Davidson.
The latter's cheery face failed to greet him, however, within its portals, and a craftily worded inquiry merely elicited the information that he was no longer connected with that institution. "What do you make of it, Mame?" he asked anxiously of his wife when he reached home. His step was more shambling than ever, and his hands, clutching his hat-brim, trembled more than her gnarled, palsied ones.
Instead the glittering eyes under the hat-brim looked steadily into his with an expression that only one man in a hundred could have interpreted. That one man, however, stood by the watering trough, his hand on the neck of a drinking horse Cleve Whitmore who watched Courtrey without blinking. For a moment Kenset stood so, his hand extended, waiting.
Shall I lend you some?" "No! mine's bigger than all yours put together." She flashed a look at him from under her tilted hat-brim: "What on earth's the matter with you? You look so solemn. I don't believe you wanted to bring me home, after all." Quin didn't know what was the matter with him. Heretofore he had fallen in love as a pebble falls into a pond.
Fletcher sat down just where her hat-brim was no screen, pulled off his gloves, and leisurely composed himself for a comfortable lounge. "What is your opinion of Rochester?" he asked, presently. "Not a very high one." "Then you think Jane was a fool to love and try to make a saint of him, I suppose?"
But, bless you, Mottle-face, having viewed it all under the slant of his hat-brim, merely settles his mottled chin deeper in his shawls, flicks the off ear of the near leader with a delicate turn of the wrists, and turning his owl-like eye upon Barnabas, remarks that "It's a werry fine night!" But hereupon the fussy gentleman, leaning over, taps Mottle-face upon the shoulder.
"What did you make of it, Tom?" "Nothing at all, Joe." "That's a coincidence, too," the guard mused, "for I made the same of it myself." Jerry, left alone in the mist and darkness, dismounted meanwhile, not only to ease his spent horse, but to wipe the mud from his face, and shake the wet out of his hat-brim, which might be capable of holding about half a gallon.
The poor boy looked up deprecatingly from under his limp and drooping hat-brim. All the crowd stood in silence, watching them. After a moment of this keen scrutiny, the deputy turned to the constable with an interrogative wave of the hand. "This hyar's the boy what war put through the winder-pane ter thieve from Blenkins," said Jim Dow. "Thar's consider'ble fac's agin him."
Rosenbaum betook himself to a quiet corner of the office, which served also as a reading-room, and soon was apparently absorbed in a number of Eastern papers, both English and German, though a keen observer would have noted that the papers were occasionally lowered sufficiently to give the eyes again concealed beneath the hat-brim an opportunity for reconnoitering the situation.
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