When I was twelve I had
a little beaver hat of it, and all the girls in school were wild over
it. Well, as soon as I saw this hat I felt that I simply must have it--
and have it I did. The price was dreadful. I will not put it down here
because I don't want my descendants to know I was guilty of paying so
much for a hat, in war-time, too, when everybody is--or should be--
trying to be economical.
"When I got home and tried on the hat again in my room I was assailed by
qualms. Of course, it was very becoming; but somehow it seemed too
elaborate and fussy for church going and our quiet little doings in the
Glen--too conspicuous, in short. It hadn't seemed so at the milliner's
but here in my little white room it did. And that dreadful price tag!
And the starving Belgians! When mother saw the hat and the tag she just
looked at me. Mother is some expert at looking. Father says she looked
him into love with her years ago in Avonlea school and I can well
believe it--though I have heard a weird tale of her banging him over
the head with a slate at the very beginning of their acquaintance.
Mother was a limb when she was a little girl, I understand, and even up
to the time when Jem went away she was full of ginger. But let me return
to my mutton--that is to say, my new green velvet hat.
"'Do you think, Rilla,' mother said quietly--far too quietly--'that it
was right to spend so much for a hat, especially when the need of the
world is so great?'
"'I paid for it out of my own allowance, mother,' I exclaimed.
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