eigned not even a
reply."

[Illustration]

Cilley tossed his own sun-bleached thatch and pursed up his mouth in
imitation of Becky. Then, with another rapid change of grimace, he
squinted up his eyes to signify the growing intensity of the
situation, and leaning half-way across the table, shoved the dishes,
pies, and pickles out of his way with his elbows. His deep voice sank
to a husky whisper.

"So the performance went on, and never a glimpse of it did the poor
gentleman see, seated as he was behind our Becky Boozer. So once more
he bends forward and he speaks at her ear, urgent-like--"

Cilley's eyebrows rose and fell with his agitation. So strong was the
grip of the story upon him that it was evident that he fancied himself
at the play, and could see the whole thing before him as plain as day.

"The poor gentleman says again," he took up, "'Madam,' he says, 'I beg
of you--please to be so kind! Nothing of the spectacle can I see!
Please and be so good as to remove your hat!'

"And would you believe it, my lad--no." Ned Cilley shook his head from
side to side, "No, no, you would not." He leaned back, waving his hand
as if to wipe away any lingering doubt in Chris's mind. "Mistress
Rebecca Boozer was that proud--_that proud_"--he dropped his
voice--"that not for the world would she remove her bonnet. Dear me
no! She tossed her head again, feeling all them plumes a-tossin' too,
and sat up straighter than before. An' she a tall woman."

Master Cilley took a red bandanna handkerchief from his coattail
pocket and mopped his face, so excited and heated had he become at his
own telling of the tale. Then once more he leaned forward
confidentially.

"Well, little did she dream, our Becky Boozer. For when she tossed her
head the second time and made no motion to remove her hat, the
gentleman bent toward her, and--no doubt, his words were for her
alone. And this is what he said."

Ned Cilley's blue eyes popped and he cupped his hand by the side of
his mouth so that his words could carry no further than the few inches
dividing the boy and the man.

"He said--and so she told me, it did sound like a roar of thunder,
though no one else did seem aware of it--'So, then, Rebecca Boozer,
_wear_ your hat!' the gentleman said. 'The Devil himself shall have no
power to take it off'n you'!

"And do you know," whispered Cilley in a low rumble, his eyes starting
out of his head as were Chris's own, "'Tis our belief it must have