fog,
that's all. There's yards and yards of this gauzy stuff draped and puffed
and looped around it, with only a wide purple ribbon showin' here and
there and keepin' the fog in place.

Well, all that is restin' careless in a box, the size of a quarter-mile
runnin' track, with the cover half off. And it's a work of art in itself,
that box,--all Looey Cans pictures, and a thick purple silk cord to tie
it up with. Why, one glimpse of that combination was enough to make me
clap my hand over my roll and back away from the spot!

Just then, though, I notices another gent steppin' up for a squint at the
monstrosity, and I can't help lingerin' to see if he gets the same kind
of a shock. He's sort of a queer party, too,--short, stoop shouldered,
thin faced, wrinkled old chap, with a sandy mustache mixed some with
gray, and a pair of shrewd little eyes peerin' out under bushy brows.
Anybody could spot him as a rutabaga delegate by the high crowned soft
hat and the back number ulster that he's still stickin' to, though the
thermometer is way up in the eighties.

But he don't seem to shy any at the purple lid. He sticks his head out
first this way and then that, like a turtle, and then all of a sudden he
shoots over kind of a quizzin' glance at me. I can't help but give him
the grin. At that his mouth corners wrinkle up and the little gray eyes
begin to twinkle.

"Quite a hat, eh?" he chuckles.

"It's goin' some in the lid line," says I.

"I expect that's a mighty stylish article, though," says he.

"That's the bluff the store people are makin'," says I, "and there's no
law against it."

"What would be your guess on the price of that there, now?" says he,
edging up.

"Ah, let's leave such harrowin' details to the man that has to pay for
it," says I. "No use in our gettin' the chilly spine over what's marked
on the price ticket; that is, unless you're thinking of investin'," and
as I tips him the humorous wink I starts to move off.

But this wa'n't a case where I was to get out so easy. He comes right
after me. "Excuse me, neighbor," says he; "but--but that's exactly what I
was thinking of doing, if it wasn't too infernally expensive."

"What!" says I, gazin' at him; for he ain't the kind of citizen you'd
expect to find indulgin' in such foolishness. "Oh, well, don't mind my
remarks. Go ahead and blow yourself. You want it for the missus, eh?"

"Ye-e-es," he drawls; "for--for my wife. Ah--er--would it be asking too