he said lightly, "but I maun
question your taste a wee. D'ye no think ye had best return this and get
a woman with half her hair gray a little plainer headdress? Seems like
that's far ower gay for me. I'm no' saying that it's no' exactly what
I'd like to hae, but I mauna mak mysel' ridiculous. Ye'd best give this
to somebody young and pretty, say about sixteen. Where did ye come by
it, Freckles? If there's anything been dropping lately, ye hae forgotten
to mention it."

"Do you see anything heavenly about that hat?" queried Freckles, holding
it up.

The morning breeze waved the ribbons gracefully, binding one around
Freckles' sleeve and the other across his chest, where they caught and
clung as if magnetized.

"Yes," said Sarah Duncan. "It's verra plain and simple, but it juist
makes ye feel that it's all of the finest stuff. It's exactly what I'd
call a heavenly hat."

"Sure," said Freckles, "for it's belonging to an Angel!"

Then he told her about the hat and asked her what he should do with it.

"Take it to her, of course!" said Sarah Duncan. "Like it's the only ane
she has and she may need it badly."

Freckles smiled. He had a clear idea about the hat being the only one
the Angel had. However, there was a thing he felt he should do and
wanted to do, but he was not sure.

"You think I might be taking it home?" he said.

"Of course ye must," said Mrs. Duncan. "And without another hour's
delay. It's been here two days noo, and she may want it, and be too busy
or afraid to come."

"But how can I take it?" asked Freckles.

"Gang spinning on your wheel. Ye can do it easy in an hour."

"But in that hour, what if----?"

"Nonsense!" interrupted Sarah Duncan. "Ye've watched that timber-line
until ye're grown fast to it, lad. Give me your boots and club and I'll
gae walk the south end and watch doon the east and west sides until ye
come back."

"Mrs. Duncan! You never would be doing it," cried Freckles.

"Why not?" inquired she.

"But you know you're mortal afraid of snakes and a lot of other things
in the swamp."

"I am afraid of snakes," said Mrs. Duncan, "but likely they've gone into
the swamp this hot weather. I'll juist stay on the trail and watch, and
ye might hurry the least bit. The day's so bright it feels like storm. I
can put the bairns on the woodpile to play until I get back. Ye gang awa
and take the blessed little angel her beautiful hat."

"Are you sure it will be all right?" urged Freckl