a
flourish of his whip. "Here's whar ye git the styles fust hand. Hev to
come from New York to Glenfield to git the reel thing, ye see."

"I see!" laughed Hilda, springing lightly from the wagon.

"I'll call for ye in 'bout half an hour;" and with a kindly nod the
farmer drove away down the street.

Hildegarde entered the dingy little shop with some misgivings, "I hope I
shall find _something_ fresh!" she said to herself; "those things in the
window look as if they had been there since the Flood." She quickly made
friends with the brisk little milliner, and they were soon turning over
the meagre store of hats, trimmed and untrimmed.

"This is _real_ tasty!" said the little woman, lifting with honest pride
an alarming structure of green satin, which some straggling cock's
feathers were doing their best to hide.

Hilda shuddered, but said pleasantly, "Rather heavy for summer; don't
you think so? It would be better for a winter hat. What is this?" she
added, drawing from the farthest recesses of the box an untrimmed hat of
rough yellow straw. "I think perhaps this will do, Miss Bean."

"Oh my land, no! you don't want _that_!" cried the little milliner,
aghast. "That's only common doin's, anyhow; and it's been in that box
three years. Them shapes ain't worn now."

"Never mind!" said Hilda, merrily; "it is perfectly fresh, and I like
the shape. Just wait till you see it trimmed, Miss Bean. May I rummage a
little among your drawers? I will not toss the things about."

A piece of dotted mull and a bunch of soft pink roses rewarded her
search; and with these and a bit of rose-colored ribbon she proceeded to
make the rough straw into so dainty and bewitching a thing that Miss
Bean sat fairly petrified with amazement on her little hair-cloth sofa
in the back shop. "Why! why!" she said. "If that ain't the beat of all!
It's the tastiest hat I ever see. You never told me you'd learned the
trade!"

This last was rather reproachfully said; and Hilda, much amused,
hastened to reassure the good woman.

"Indeed, I never learned the trade," she said. "I take to it naturally,
I think; and I have watched my mother, who does it much better than I."

"She must be a first-class trimmer, then!" replied Miss Bean,
emphatically. "Works in one o' them big houses in New York, I reckon,
don't she?"

Hildegarde laughed; but before she could reply, Miss Bean went on to
say: "Wal, you're a stranger to me, but you've got a pooty good
cou