THE NEW HAT.

Otago Witness, Issue 2804, 11 December 1907, Page 90

THE NEW HAT.

(By Herbert Jamieson.) When the telephone bell rang, Jakins, Richard Brown and Co.'s cashier, chanced to be the sole occupant, of the office. He crossed to the instrument, and took down the receiver. "Hullo! Who's there?'* "It's I, dear. I've just bought a new hat at a sale — such a dream of a liat — and Oh, please don't be angry !" But it was only Jakins gasping. He ■was a shy, timid, unattached young man, who blushed painfully whenever a woman addressed him — even from the other end of a telephone. "I'm afraid— cr — you've made a mistake," he- stammered, with scarlet cheeks. "I can't bear," replied the owner of the unknown voice. "You've made a mistake." "Not at all, dear! It will go perfectly with my new. best dress. Are you there?" "Yes! No!" Suddenly 'the voice lost its dulcet, coaxing tones. "Aren't you Mr Brown?" "No!" "Who are you, then?" "I'm- Mr Brown's cashier." "What are you answering his telephone for, then? Oh, I do call it most disgraceful. Get Mr Brown, at once!" "He's not in." "Not in?" "No, miss!" "Did I hear you say 'mie6'? I hope nobody called 'miss' is in the habit of ringing Mr Brown up. I'm Mrs Brown."' Perspiration stood on the poor young man's brow. "I beg your pardon, Mrs Brown. No, certainly not !" "What do you mean by 'certainly not'? Why should Mr Brown be 'ceitainly not' in?" "I didm't mean that," said Jakins in agonised tones. "I was referring to — oh, will you please ring up again?" "I can't do that. I'm. at a call office. Yes, I'll take another three minutes please. This young man at my husband's office is a perfect fool. Now, can I trust you to give Mr Brown a message?" "Yes!" "Write it down ! I've got a new hat." "'l've got a new hat.'" "Put it in the third person! Your wife " "Pleaso, Mrs Brown. I'm not married." Two minutes later Jakins hung- up the receiver with shaking fingers. He had certainly never cut such a poor figure at the telephone. If Mrs Brown repeated hexexpressed opinion of him to Mr Brown (as seemed highly probable), Richard Brown and Co. might goon be seeking a new cashier. He looked at the message in his hand. It was in shorthand. He wrote it out in longhand, and when Mr Brown came

in he followed his employer into his private room. "Please, sir, your wife has heen telephoning." "My wife? What about?" Jakins consulted his notes. ''She has bought a new hat at Jobson's sale. It will go splendidly with her new dress. &ae wants you to send off a cheque at once to Jobson's in the Holloway road, asking them to despatch the hat by their next delivery, and reminding them of the address. The amount is £2 19s lid, and it's a real bargain." Richard Brown sat down in his chair, momentarily speechless with -surprise and annoyance. He was surprised, of course, that his wife wanted a new hat — all husbands are. He wa6 also surprised that a mere covering for the head, priced at £2 19s lid, should be called a bargain ; he had never spent more than 16s 6d on a hat for himself. And he was extremely annoyed that euch an intimate domestic matter as the purchase of a hat should be the public property of the office. Through sheer nervousness Jakins was smiling. "What are you laughing at?" thundered Richard Brown. "Go and draw the cheque at once!" For the rest of the day Richard Brown and Co.'s clerical staff did not have a particularly happy time of it. It was the matter of tbe hat, of course. Richard brooded on it constantly. No man likes to be made to pay through the nose, as it were, for his wife's purchases. Greta's unusual conduct could only be explained by the fact that last week her mother had been stopping with her. No doubt during that visit the seeds of insurrection, which hadi now borne fruit, had been sown. He remembered that the mother had one evening taken great exception to Greta's last winter's toque, and that they — the women, of course — had discussed the subject ad nauseam. When Richard reached his house at Highgate, Jobson's cart was just moving away from the door. Greta was kneeling on the hall door, unpacking a box with furious haste. As he entered, she unwrapped the last fold of tissue paper and held vp — the liat. So engrosed was she that Richard's entry was unobserved. "Oh, it's a duck!" Then she saw her husband. "Dick, you dear, you darling ! How can I thank you for this lovely surprise?" and, rising from her knees, she threw both her arms around his neck and kissed him several times in succession. Richard made no response. It was bad enough that Greta should have bought the hat without his sanction ; it was far worse that she a/hould thus be hypocritically thanking him. He had never appreciated her kisses less. By this time the hat was on her head, and she was surveying it in the mirror of the hat-stand). "Oh, it suits me to a T, and it's just a perfect fit. How could you possibly have guessed that it would be my style? Ido think it real clever of you. Fancy your going off to Jobson's and choosing it' yourself! What did they say to you in the shop? Oh, here's the receipt! £2 19s lid. Why, I've never had such an expensive hat in my life. I never give more than 255, you know. I do call it good of you." , Fotrunately, she was bending now, restoring the hat to the box, or the sight of Richard's face would have given him away. It was clear now that Greta had not bought the hat ; she could never be carrying on the pretence like this. What in the name of fortune had happened? Who had sent that message, over the telephone? Had Jakins been bribed to invent the whole tale? Whoever had hatched^ this conspiracy? Ah ! Illumination had come. Greta's mother had done this. Unknown to either of them, she must have selected the hat for Greta, -and then, with sublime audacity, had either telephoned herself or got someone to telephone in her daughter's name, requesting him to post off a cheque for it. He had heard and read a lot of the wiles of mothers-in-law, but this Again Greta's arms came clinging about

his neck. * "Oh, Dick, I can't thank you half proAh! why not? Greta's mother might certainly be trusted to keep her infamous secret from Greta. Besides, had he not paid for it? "I'm so glad you're pleased, Greta. 1 don't think the cost of a thing matters when you get the really correct article."

On the same evening, within another suburban home in a place contiguous to Highgate— East Finchley to wit— Phyllis, wife of Leonard Brown, city merchant, sat awaiting with some interest her husband s return from town. Had he carried out her telephone instructions and forwarded the cheque to Jobson's? There was the chance, of course, that he would send Jobson (mentally) to Jericho and decline to put- his hand in his pocket. A bad debt that day of even ss, and such would certainly be his line of conduct. And for that contingency Mrs Brown had prepared. She wa6 unknown at Jobson's, and had not mentioned any address to which the hat was to be despatched, merely stating that a note of same would accompany the remittance. If Jobson's did not receive the money they would naturally, after a decent interval, replace the bat in their shop window, and Phyllis Brown would send her last winter's hat to the local milliner's to be so reshaped and retrimmed that her dearest friend would fail to recognise it. But no, Leonard would not be such a brute as that. Of course, he would have had a good day at business, and come home, smiling. " Well, little woman, you did me nicely to-day.' 1 ''Dear, you don't mind very much?"

"Well, it did- seem a bit steep, but never mind. Only don't do it again!" That was the dream. This was the reality :

Leonard arrived home and said nothing — nothing, we mean, about the hat. Nor did he look anything. To the timehonoured question, "Had he any news?" he made the time-honoured reply, " Nothing ! " There was no hint of anger nor of the slightest restraint. Not a word out of the ordinary passed his lips. It was .most exasperating. The evening wore on. Every cart that went past set her heart beating. This must be Jobeon's two-horse van at last. No, it had gone by. The hour for Jobson's last aelivery crept by. The hat was not coming to-night. Perhaps the cheque had been posted late. To-morrow, which was a Saturday, came and went. No hat ! No reference from. Leonard to any hat!

Had that cashier forgotten to deliver her message? Impossible, after the way she had rubbed it into him. No ; evidently Leonard had deliberately set his face against her having the hat, and was determined not to allude' to it.

The arrival of Sunday morning brought the problem to an acute stage. There was no new, best hat to wear with a new, best drees. And the second-best drees was not worth wearing — at least, to one's >own church.

'* I think, Leonard, I shall go over to Highgate to church this morning. It's a nice walk, and I like the service there." '"Jove! I think I'll come with you."

On the 6troke of 11 they entered together the church at Highgate, and were shown into a pew. As the service commenced a lady and gentleman walked into the pew immediately is front with the lofty air of proprietorship that seatholders assume. And the lady was wearing "the" hat.

There was no mistaking the hat. Its aggressive individuality banged one in the face, so to speak. How had this woman got possession of it?

The service concluded. In passing out, Mrs Leonard Brown bent and read the name on the card of the pew in front. It was Brown.

" Well, Leonard, Low did you like the sermon?" she inquired absently, when they were outside.

"My dear, I've seen nothing the whole time because of that awful hat in front of me." "Oh, didn't you like it?" "Like it? It's an absolute monstrosity."

"You wouldn't care for your wee Wifie in such a thing?"

" Horrors J By the way, Phyllis, aren't you wanting a new -winter hat now? " "Well, if I could get something quite inexpensive." "Go to the West End; this time T You always get better things them I wonder if I couhl get off to-morrow afternoon and go West with you. I tell you what. Ring me up to-morrow morning, and I'll let you know whether I can get away. Oh, by the way, we got our telephone number changed a week ago. It's 1034, Cornhill, now. Some other firm called Brown had a similar number to out old one, and the exchange- girls were always switching us on wrongly." — M. A. P.