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Updated: June 11, 2025
In those last two weeks, he had pictured himself riding vaingloriously through town on his best horse, with a new Navajo saddle-blanket making a dab of bright color, and a new Stetson hat dimpled picturesquely as to crown and tilted rakishly over one eye, and with his silver-mounted spurs catching the light; around him would ride the Happy Family, also in gala attire and mounted upon the best horses in their several strings.
It was the most astonishing conjugation the startled Professor had ever heard in all his thirty years, and he frantically strove to remove the clinging damsel, at the same time commanding: "Madamoiselle, Madamoiselle, make yourself tranquil! You will cease at once. Mees Woodhull! Mees Stetson, Mees Mees." Now it so happened that Miss Stetson's recitation room adjoined Monsieur Sautelle's.
No, no, you can not invest in Fortunatus, for there is no Fortunatus." "This is your card, isn't it?" inquired Clancy, offering for inspection the card found wider the sweatband of the Stetson. "Why, si! I used that card at the time the Tia Juana matter looked very bright and promising. Now, though, I use the card no more."
On the first Sunday after the wedding Pete came up-stairs to tell his master, William, that Mrs. Stetson wanted to see him in the drawing-room. William went down at once. "Well, Aunt Hannah," he began, reaching out a cordial hand. "Why, what's the matter?" he broke off concernedly, as he caught a clearer view of the little old lady's drawn face and troubled eyes.
He was clad in a tweed lounging suit, and a pair of well-polished, brown leather boots. His headgear alone pertained to the prairie. It was a Stetson hat. He was smoking a cigarette as he came up, but he threw the insidious weed from him as he entered the room. "Morning, John. How are you, Jacky? I needn't ask you if you have heard the news.
He swung lightly out of his saddle near the door, and as he walked into the house it could be seen that he was proportioned in his frame to his height; strength and agility revealed themselves in every move. A rifle slung in a scabbard hung beside the shoulder of the horse, and the man's rig proclaimed the cowboy, though aside from a broad-brimmed Stetson hat his garb was simplicity itself.
Despite her embarrassing situation Alice Marcum could scarce restrain a smile at the officer's sudden obsequious deference. Stetson in hand, he bowed awkwardly. "Excuse me, mom, but, as I was goin' on to say in reference of any remarks I might of passed previous, I found out subsequent I didn't mean what I was sayin', which I misunderstood myself complete.
She would find him and get him and bring him back. In the lobby, while she paused with a truly feminine instinct to tip her hat this way and that before the mirror, and give her hair a tentative pat or two at the back, the grinning face of Lite Avery in his gray Stetson appeared like an apparition before her eyes. She turned quickly. "Why, Lite!" she said, a little startled.
What made it more amusing was that, although Wood had, like every one else, discarded his coat and wore a strange uniform of gray shirt, white riding-breeches, and a cowboy Stetson, with no insignia of rank, not even straps pinned to his shirt, still the men instantly accepted his authority.
"Myra Stetson is lots nicer in some ways." That was Agnes' way. She was forever having a "crush" on some girl or other, getting suddenly over it, and seeking another affinity with bewildering fickleness. Eva Larry had been proclaimed her dearest friend for a longer term than most who had preceded her.
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