and walk the hoss over Cook's Brook
bridge, for I always suspicion it's goin' to break down under me, an' I
shouldn't want to be dropped into that fast runnin' water this cold day.
It'll be froze stiff by this time next week. Hadn't you better get out
and lead"--

The rest of the sentence was very possibly not vital, but at any rate
it was never completed, for in the middle of the bridge a fierce gale
of wind took Miss Miranda's Paisley shawl and blew it over her head. The
long heavy ends whirled in opposite directions and wrapped themselves
tightly about her wavering bonnet. Rebecca had the whip and the reins,
and in trying to rescue her struggling aunt could not steady her own
hat, which was suddenly torn from her head and tossed against the bridge
rail, where it trembled and flapped for an instant.

"My hat! Oh! Aunt Miranda, my hateful hat!" cried Rebecca, never
remembering at the instant how often she had prayed that the "fretful
porcupine" might some time vanish in this violent manner, since it
refused to die a natural death.

She had already stopped the horse, so, giving her aunt's shawl one last
desperate twitch, she slipped out between the wagon wheels, and darted
in the direction of the hated object, the loss of which had dignified it
with a temporary value and importance.

The stiff brown turban rose in the air, then dropped and flew along the
bridge; Rebecca pursued; it danced along and stuck between two of the
railings; Rebecca flew after it, her long braids floating in the wind.

"Come back! Come back! Don't leave me alone with the team. I won't have
it! Come back, and leave your hat!"

Miranda had at length extricated herself from the submerging shawl, but
she was so blinded by the wind, and so confused that she did not measure
the financial loss involved in her commands.

Rebecca heard, but her spirit being in arms, she made one more mad
scramble for the vagrant hat, which now seemed possessed with an evil
spirit, for it flew back and forth, and bounded here and there, like
a living thing, finally distinguishing itself by blowing between the
horse's front and hind legs, Rebecca trying to circumvent it by going
around the wagon, and meeting it on the other side.

It was no use; as she darted from behind the wheels the wind gave the
hat an extra whirl, and scurrying in the opposite direction it soared
above the bridge rail and disappeared into the rapid water below.

"Get in again!" cried Miranda