It was very plain, and very pretty; yet there were no flowers, and the
modest white ribbon lay smoothly about the crown. Miss Lucindy gave a
little cry, as if some one had hurt her.

"O!" she exclaimed, "O Claribel! you sure?" Claribel was sure.

"She's got real good taste," put in Miss West. "Shall I wrop it up?"

"Yes," answered Lucindy, drearily. "We'll take it. But I suppose if she
should change, her mind before she wore it--" she added, with some
slight accession of hope.

"Oh, yes, bring it right back. I'll give her another choice."

But Claribel was not likely to change her mind. On the way home, she
walked sedately, and carried her hat with the utmost care. At her
grandmother's gate, she looked up shyly, and spoke of her own accord,--

"Thank you, ever so much!"

Then she fled up the path, her bundle waving before her. That, at
least, looked like spontaneous joy, and the sight of it soothed Lucindy
into a temporary resignation; yet she was very much disappointed.

The next afternoon, Tiverton saw a strange and wondrous sight. The
Crane boy led Old Buckskin, under an ancient saddle, into Miss
Lucindy's yard, and waited there before her door. The Crane boy had
told all his mates, and they had told their fathers and mothers, so
that a wild excitement flew through the village like stubble fire,