CHAPTER VIII.
Wherein Freckles Meets a Man of Affairs and Loses Nothing by the Encounter "Weel, I be drawed on!" exclaimed Mrs.Duncan.
Freckles stood before her, holding the Angel's hat.
"I've been thinking this long time that ye or Duncan would see that sunbonnets werena braw enough for a woman of my standing, and ye're a guid laddie to bring me this beautiful hat." She turned it around, examining the weave of the straw and the foliage trimmings, passing her rough fingers over the satin ties delightedly.

As she held it up, admiring it, Freckles' astonished eyes saw a new side of Sarah Duncan.

She was jesting, but under the jest the fact loomed strong that, though poor, overworked, and with none but God-given refinement, there was something in her soul crying after that bit of feminine finery, and it made his heart ache for her.

He resolved that when he reached the city he would send her a hat, if it took fifty dollars to do it.
She lingeringly handed it back to him.
"It's unco guid of ye to think of me," she 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.