bracing up my mind for whatever might come, as I toiled up the hill
in a gale of wind. Suddenly my hat flew off and went gayly skipping
away, to the great delight of some black imps, who only grinned and
cheered me on as I trotted after it with wild grabs and wrathful
dodges. I got it at last out of a puddle, and there I was in a nice
mess. The elastic was broken, feather wet, and the poor thing all
mud and dirt. I didn't care much, as it was my old one,--dressed for
my work, you see. But I couldn't go home bareheaded, and I didn't
know a soul in that neighborhood. I turned to step into a grocery
store at the corner, to borrow a brush or buy a sheet of paper to
wear, for I looked like a lunatic with my battered hat and my hair
in a perfect mop. Luckily I spied a woman's fancy shop on the other
corner, and rushed in there to hide myself, for the brats hooted and
people stared. It was a very small shop, and behind the counter sat
a tall, thin, washed-out-looking woman, making a baby's hood. She
looked poor and blue and rather sour, but took pity on me; and while
she sewed the cord, dried the feather, and brushed off the dirt, I
warmed myself and looked about to see what I could buy in return for
her trouble.

"A few children's aprons hung in the little window, with some knit
lace, balls, and old-fashioned garters, two or three dolls, and a
very poor display of small wares. In a show-case, however, on the
table that was the counter, I found some really pretty things, made
of plush, silk, and ribbon, with a good deal of taste. So I said I'd
buy a needle-book, and a gay ball, and a pair of distracting baby's
shoes, made to look like little open-work socks with pink
ankle-ties, so cunning and dainty, I was glad to get them for Cousin
Clara's baby. The woman seemed pleased, though she had a grim way of
talking, and never smiled once. I observed that she handled my hat