THE LOST HAT.
Grit complied with the request of his passenger, and rowed after Phil's
hat. But there was a strong current, and it was not without
considerable trouble that he at last secured it. But, alas! the new hat,
with its bright ribbon, was well soaked when it was fished out of the
water.
"It's mean," ejaculated Phil, lifting it with an air of disgust. "Just
my luck."
"Are you so unlucky, then?" asked his cousin Marion, with a half smile.
"I should say so. What do you call this?"
"A wet hat."
"How am I ever to wear it? It will drip all over my clothes."
"I think you had better buy a common one in Portville, and leave this
one here to dry."
"How am I going round Portville bareheaded?" inquired Phil crossly.
"Shall I lend you my hat?" asked Marion.
"Wouldn't I look like a fool, going round the streets with a girl's hat
on?"
"Well, you are the best judge of that," answered Marion demurely.
Grit laughed, as the young lady glanced at him with a smile.
"What are you laughing at, you boatman?" snarled Phil.
"I beg your pardon," said Grit good-naturedly; "I know it must be
provoking to have your hat wet. Can I help you in any way? If you will
give me the money, and remain in the boat, I will run up to Davis, the
hatter's, and get you a new hat."
"How can you tell my size?" asked Phil, making no acknowledgment for the
offer.
"Then I will lend you my hat to go up yourself."
Phil's lip curled, as if he considered that there would be contamination
in such a plebeian hat. However, as Marion declared it would be the best
thing to do, he suppressed his disdain, and, without a word of thanks,
put Grit's hat on his head.
"Come with me, Marion," he said.
"No, Phil; I will remain here with Mr. ----," and she turned inquiringly
toward the young boatman.
"Grit," he suggested.
"Mr. Grit," she said, finishing the sentence.
"Just as you like. I admire your taste," said Phil, with a sneer.
As he walked away, Marion turned to the young boatman.
"Is your name really Grit?" she asked.
"No; people call me so."
"I can understand why," she answered with a smile. "You look--gritty."
"If I do, I hope it isn't anything disagreeable," responded our hero.
"Oh, no," said Marion; "quite the contrary. I like to see boys that
won't allow themselves to be imposed upon."
"I don't generally allow myself to be imposed upon."
"What is your real name?"
"Harry Morris."
"I suppose you and Phil know each other very well?"
"We have known each other a long time, but we are not very intimate
friends."
"I don't think Phil has any intimate friends," said Marion thoughtfully.
"He--I don't think he gets on very well with the other boys."
"He wants to boss them," said Grit bluntly.
"Yes; I expect that is it. He's my cousin, you know."
"Is he? I don't think you are much alike."
"Is that remark a compliment to me--or him?" asked Marion, laughing.
"To you, decidedly."
"Well, Phil can be very disagreeable when he sets out to be. I should
not want to be that, you know."
"You couldn't," said Grit, with an admiring glance.
"That's a compliment," said Marion. "But you're mistaken. I can be
disagreeable when I set out to be. I expect Phil finds me so sometimes."
"I wouldn't."
"You know how to flatter as well as to row, Mr. Grit. It's true. I tease
Phil awfully sometimes."
By this time Phil came back with a new hat on his head, holding Grit's
in the tips of his fingers, as if it would contaminate him. He pitched
it into Grit's lap, saying shortly:
"There's your hat."
"Upon my word, Phil, you're polite," said his cousin. "Can't you thank
Mr. Grit?"
"Mr. Grit!" repeated Phil contemptuously. "Of course I thank him."
"You're welcome," answered Grit dryly.
"Here's your fare!" said Phil, taking out two dimes, and offering them
to the young boatman.
"Thank you."
"Phil, you ought to pay something extra for the loan of the hat," said
Marion, "and the delay."
With evident reluctance Phil took a nickel from his vest pocket, and
offered it to Grit.
"No, thank you!" said Grit, drawing back, "I wouldn't be willing to take
anything for that. I've found it very agreeable to wait," and he glanced
significantly at Marion.
"I suppose I am to consider that another compliment," said the young
lady, with a coquettish glance.
"What, has he been complimenting you?" asked Phil jealously.
"Yes, and it was very agreeable, as I got no compliments from you. Good
afternoon, Mr. Grit. I hope you will row us back by and by."
"I hope so, too," said the young boatman, bowing.
"Look here, Marion," said Phil, as they walked away, "you take
altogether too much notice of that fellow."
"Why do I? I am sure he is a very nice boy."
"He is a common working boy!" snapped Phil. "He lives with his mother
in a poor hut upon the bluff, and makes his living by boating."
"I am sure that is to his credit."
"Oh, yes, I suppose it is. So's a ditch-digger engaged in a creditable
employment, but you don't treat him as an equal."
"I should be willing to treat Grit as an equal. He is very good-looking,
don't you think so, Phil?"
"Good-looking! So is a cow good-looking."
"I've seen some cows that were very good-looking," answered Marion, with
a mischievous smile. "I suppose Grit and you are well acquainted."
"Oh, I know him to speak to him," returned Phil loftily. "Of course, I
couldn't be intimate with such a boy."
"I was thinking," said Marion, "it would be nice to invite him round to
the house to play croquet with us."
"Invite Grit Morris?" gasped Phil.
"Yes, why not?"
"A boy like him!"
"Why, wouldn't he behave well?"
"Oh, I suppose he would, but he isn't in our circle."
"Then it's a pity he isn't. He's the most agreeable boy I have met in
Chester."
"You say that only to provoke me."
"No, I don't. I mean it."
"I won't invite him," said Phil doggedly. "I am surprised that you
should think of such a thing."
"Propriety, Miss Marion, propriety!" said the young lady, in a tone of
mock dignity, turning up the whites of her eyes. "That's just the way my
governess used to talk. It's well I've got so experienced a young
gentleman to look after me, and see that I don't stumble into any
impropriety."
Meanwhile, Grit sat in his boat, waiting for a return passenger, and as
he waited he thought of the young lady he had just ferried over.
"I can't see how such a fellow as Phil Courtney can have such a nice
cousin," he said to himself. "She's very pretty, too! She isn't
stuck-up, like him. I hope I shall get the chance of rowing them back."
He waited about ten minutes, when he saw a gentleman and a little boy
approaching the river.
"Are you the ferry-boy?" asked the gentleman.
"Yes, sir."
"I heard there was a boy who would row me across. I want to go to
Chester with my little boy. Can you take us over?"
"Yes, sir; I shall be happy to do so."
"Are you ready to start?"
"Yes, sir, just as soon as you get into the boat."
"Come, Willie," said the gentleman, addressing his little boy, "won't
you like to ride over in the boat?"
"Oh, yes, papa," answered Willie eagerly.
"I hope you are well acquainted with rowing, and careful," said Mr.
Jackson, for this was his name. "I am rather timid about the water, for
I can't swim."
"Yes, sir, I am as much at home on the water as on the land. I've been
rowing every day for the last three years."
The gentleman and his little boy sat down, and Grit bent to his oars.