brellalike.
With it upon his head little Galusha resembled a walking toadstool--an
unhealthy, late-in-the-season toadstool.

The quartet in the Beebe store watched his departure from the windows.
All were hugely amused, but one, Mr. Pulcifer, was hilarious.

"Haw, haw, haw!" roared Raish. "Look at him! Don't he look like a
bullfrog under a lily pad? Eh? Don't he now? Haw, haw, haw!"

Erastus Beebe joined in the laugh, but he shook his head.

"I've had that cap in stock," he said, "since--well, since George
Cahoon's son used to come down drummin' for that Boston hat store, and
he quit much as eight year ago, anyhow. How did he ever come to pick
THAT cap out, Raish?"

Mr. Pulcifer regarded the questioner with scornful superiority.

"Pick it out!" he repeated. "He never picked it out, I picked it out for
him. You don't know the first principles of sellin', Ras. If you had me
to help around here you wouldn't have so many stickers in your stock."

Beebe, gazing after the retreating figure of Mr. Bangs, sniffed.

"If I had your brass, Raish," he observed, calmly, "I'd sell it to the
junk man and get rich. Well, maybe I won't have so many stickers, as
you call 'em, if that little critter comes here often. What's the matter
with him; soft in the head?"

"Isn't this his hat--the one he wore when he came in here?" queried Mrs.
Jubal Doane, one of the two customers.

Mr. Beebe picked it up. "Guess so," he replied. "Humph! I've seen that
hat often enough, too. Used to belong to Cap'n Jim Phipps, that hat did.
Seen him wear it a hundred times."

Mrs. Becky Blount, the other customer, elevated the tip of a long nose.
"Well," she observed, "if Martha Phipps is lendin' him her pa's hats SO
early, I must say--"

She did not say what it was she must say, but she had said quite enough.

Martha herself said something when her boarder appeared beneath his new
headgear. When he removed it, upon entering the dining room, she took it
from his hand.

"Is THIS the cap you just bought, Mr. Bangs?" she asked.

"Yes," said Galusha, meekly. "Do you like it?"

She regarded the fuzzy yellow thing with a curious expression.

"Do you?" she asked.

The reply was astonishingly prompt and emphatic.

"I loathe it," said Galusha.

She transferred the stare from the cap to its owner's face.

"You do!" she cried. "Then why in the world did you buy it?"

Mr. Bangs squirmed slightly. "He said I ought to," he answered.

"Who said so?"