The ENCHANTED HAT
 
 
 
 ENCIW1TED 
 
 HAT 
 
 HAROLD 
 
 Author of The Man on the 
 
 Box, Hearts and Masks 
 
 Half a Rogue, Etc. 
 
 With Illustrations by WillGrefe 
 
 Decorations lp Franklin Booth 
 
 INDIANAPOLIS 
 THE BOBBSMERRJLL COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
 >
 
 COPYRIGHT 1908 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 
 
 SEPTEMBER
 
 Marjorie and Walter Trumbull 
 
 2021320
 
 The ENCHANTED HAT
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 IT was half-after six when I entered 
 Martin's from the Broadway side. 
 I chose a table by the north wall and sat 
 down on the cushioned seat. I ordered 
 dinner, and the ample proportions of it 
 completely hoodwinked the waiter as 
 to the condition of my cardiac afflic 
 tion: being, as I was, desperately and 
 hopelessly and miserably in love. Old 
 owls say that a man can not eat when 
 he is in love. He can if he is mad at the 
 way the object of his affections has 
 treated him; and I was mad. To be 
 i
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 sure, I can not recall what my order 
 was, but the amount of the waiter's 
 check is still vivid to my recollection. 
 
 I glanced about. The cafe was 
 crowded, as it usually is at this hour. 
 Here and there I caught glimpses of 
 celebrities and familiar faces: journal 
 ists, musicians, authors, artists and act 
 ors. This is the time they drop in to 
 be pointed out to strangers from out of 
 town. It's a capital advertisement. To 
 night, however, none of these interested 
 me in the slightest degree; rather, their 
 animated countenances angered me. 
 How could they laugh and look happy! 
 
 At my left sat a young man about my 
 own age. He was also in evening dress. 
 At my right a benevolent old gentle- 
 2
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 man, whose eye-glasses balanced neatly 
 upon the end of his nose, was deeply in 
 terested in The Law Journal and a pint 
 of mineral water. A little beyond my 
 table was an exiled Frenchman, and the 
 irritating odor of absinthe drifted at 
 times across my nostrils. 
 
 With my coffee I ordered a glass of 
 Dantzic, and watched the flakes of 
 beaten gold waver and settle; and pres 
 ently I devoted myself entirely to my 
 own particularly miserable thoughts. 
 . . . To be in love and in debt! To 
 be with the gods one moment and 
 hunted by a bill-collector the next! To 
 have the girl you love snub and dismiss 
 you for no more lucid reason than that 
 you did not attend the dance at the 
 
 3
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 Country Club when you promised you 
 would! It did not matter that you had 
 a case on that night from which de 
 pended a large slice of your bread and 
 butter; no, that did not matter. Nei 
 ther did the fact that you had mixed 
 the dates. You had promised to go, and 
 you hadn't gone or notified the girl that 
 you wouldn't go. Your apologetic tele 
 gram she had torn into halves and re 
 turned the following morning, together 
 with a curt note to the effect that she 
 could not value the friendship of a man 
 who made and broke a promise so 
 easily. It was all over. It was a dashed 
 hard world. How the deuce do you 
 win a girl, anyhow? 
 
 Suppose, besides, that you possessed
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 a rich uncle who said that on the day of 
 your wedding he would make over to 
 you fifty thousand in Government three 
 per cents. Hard, wasn't it? Suppose 
 that you were earning about two thou 
 sand a year, and that the struggle to 
 keep up smart appearances was a keen 
 one. Wouldn't you have been eager to 
 marry, especially the girl you loved? 
 A man can not buy flowers twice a 
 week, dine before and take supper after 
 the theater twice a week, belong (and 
 pay dues and house-accounts) to a 
 country club, a town club and keep re 
 spectable bachelor apartments on two 
 thousand . . . and save anything. 
 And suppose the girl was indepen 
 dently rich. Heigh-ho! 
 
 5
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 I find that a man needs more money 
 in love than he does in debt. This is 
 not to say that I was ever very hard 
 pressed; but I hated to pay ten dollars 
 "on account" when the total was only 
 twenty. You understand me, don't you? 
 If you don't, somebody who reads this 
 will. Of course, the girl knew nothing 
 about these things. A young man al 
 ways falls into the fault of magnifying 
 his earning capacity to the girl he loves. 
 You see, I hadn't told her yet that I 
 loved her, though I was studying up 
 somebody on Moral and Physical 
 Courage for that purpose. 
 
 And now it was all over! 
 
 I did not care so much about my 
 uncle's gold-bonds, but I did think a 
 6
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 powerful lot of the girl. Why, when I 
 recall the annoyances I've put up with 
 from that kid brother of hers I . . . 
 Pshaw, what's the use? 
 
 His mother called him "Toddy-One- 
 Boy," in memory of a book she had 
 read long years ago. He was six years 
 old, and I never think of him without 
 that jingle coming to mind: 
 
 "Little Willie choked his sister, 
 She was dead before they missed her. 
 Willie's always up to tricks. 
 Ain't he cute, he's only six I" 
 
 He had the face of a Bouguereau 
 cherub, and mild blue eyes such as we 
 are told inhabit the countenances of ari- 
 gels. He was the most innocent-look 
 ing chap you ever set eyes on. His 
 7
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 mother called him an angel; I should 
 hate to tell you what the neighbors 
 called him. He lacked none of that 
 subtle humor so familiar in child-life. 
 Heavens! the deeds I could (if I 
 dared) enumerate. They turned him 
 loose among the comic supplements one 
 Sunday, and after that it was all over. 
 Hadn't he emptied his grandma's 
 medicine capsules and substituted cot 
 ton? And hadn't dear old grandma 
 come down-stairs three days later, say 
 ing that she felt much improved? 
 Hadn't he beaten out the brains of his 
 toy bank and bought up the peanut man 
 on the corner? Yes, indeed! And 
 hadn't he taken my few letters from his 
 sister's desk and played postman up and 
 8
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 down the street? His papa thought it 
 all a huge joke till one of the neighbors 
 brought back a dunning dressmaker's 
 bill that had lain on the said neighbor's 
 porch. It was altogether a different 
 matter then. Toddy-One-Boy crawled 
 under the bed that night, and only his 
 mother's tears saved him from a hiding. 
 All these things I thought over as I 
 sat at my table. She knew that I would 
 have gone had it been possible. Wom 
 en and logic are only cousins german. 
 Six months ago I hadn't been in love 
 with any one but myself, and now the 
 Virgil of love's dream was leading me 
 like a new Dante through his Inferno, 
 and was pointing out the foster-brother 
 of Sisyphus (if he had a foster- 
 
 9
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 brother), pushing the stone of my 
 lady's favor up the steeps of Forlorn 
 Hope. Well, I would go up to the 
 club, and if I didn't get home till 
 mor-r-ning, who was there to care? 
 
 The Frenchman had gone, and the 
 benevolent old gentleman. The crowd 
 was thinning out. The young man at 
 my left rose, and I rose also. We both 
 stared thoughtfully at the hat-rack. 
 There hung two hats : an opera-hat and 
 a dilapidated old stovepipe. The young 
 fellow reached up and, quite naturally, 
 selected the opera-hat. He glanced into 
 it, and immediately a wrinkle of an 
 noyance darkened his brow. He held 
 the hat toward me. 
 
 "Is this yours?" he asked. 
 10
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 I looked at the label. 
 
 "No." The wrinkle of annoyance 
 sprang from his brow to mine. My 
 opera-hat had cost me eight dollars. 
 
 The young fellow laughed rather 
 lamely. "Do you live in New York?" 
 he asked. 
 
 I nodded. 
 
 "So do I," he continued; "and yet it 
 is evident that both of us have been 
 neatly caught." He thought for a mo 
 ment, then brightened. "I'll tell you 
 what; let's match for the good one." 
 
 I gazed indignantly at the rusty 
 stovepipe. "Done!" said I. 
 
 I lost; I knew that I should; and the 
 young fellow walked off with the good 
 hat. Then, with the relic in my hand, a 
 II
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 waiter and myself began a systematic 
 search. My hat was nowhere to be 
 found. How the deuce was I to get up 
 town to the club? I couldn't wear the 
 old plug; I wasn't rich enough for such 
 an eccentricity. I had nothing but a 
 silk hat at the apartment, and I hated it 
 because it was always in the way when 
 I entered carriages and elevators. 
 
 Angrily, I strode up to the cashier's 
 desk and explained the situation, leav 
 ing my address and the number of my 
 apartment; my name wasn't necessary. 
 
 Troubles never come singly. Here I 
 had lost my girl and my hat, to say 
 nothing of my temper of the three the 
 most certain to be found again. I 
 passed out of the cafe, bareheaded and 
 12
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 hot-headed. I hailed a cab and climbed 
 in. I had finally determined to return 
 to my rooms and study. I simply could 
 not afford to be seen with that stove 
 pipe hat either on my head or under 
 my arm. Had I been green from col 
 lege it is probable that I should have 
 worn it proudly and defiantly. But I 
 had left college behind these six years. 
 Hang these old duffers who are so 
 absent-minded! For I was confident 
 that the benevolent old gentleman was 
 the cause of all this confusion. Inside 
 the cab I tried on the thing, just to get 
 a picture in my mind of the old gentle 
 man going it up Broadway with my 
 opera-hat on his head. The hat sagged 
 over my ears ; and I laughed. The pic- 
 
 13
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 ture I had conjured up was too much 
 for my anger, which vanished sud 
 denly. And once I had laughed I felt 
 a trifle more agreeable toward the 
 world. So long as a man can see the 
 funny side of things he has no active 
 desire to leave life behind; and laugh 
 ter does more to lighten his sorrows 
 than sympathy, which only aggravates 
 them. 
 
 After all, the old gentleman would 
 feel the change more sharply than I. 
 This was, in all probability, the only 
 hat he had. I turned it over and scru 
 tinized it. It was a genteel old beaver, 
 with an air of respectability that was 
 quite convincing. There was nothing 
 smug about it, either. It suggested 
 
 4
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 amiability in the man who had recently 
 possessed it. It suggested also a mild 
 contempt for public opinion, which is 
 always a sign of superior mentality and 
 advanced years. I began to draw a 
 mental portrait of the old man. He 
 was a family lawyer, doubtless, who 
 lived in the past and hugged his ret 
 rospections. When we are young there 
 is never any vanishing point to our day 
 dreams. Well, well! On the morrow 
 he would have a new hat, of approved 
 shape and pattern; unless, indeed, he 
 possessed others like this which had 
 fallen into my keeping. Perhaps he 
 would soon discover his mistake, return 
 to the cafe and untangle the snarl. I 
 sincerely hoped he would. As I re-
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 marked, my hat had cost me eight dol 
 lars. 
 
 I soon arrived at my apartments, and 
 got into a smoking- jacket. I rather 
 delight in lolling around in a dress- 
 shirt; it looks so like the pictures we see 
 in the fashionable novels. I picked up 
 Blackstone and turned to his "promis 
 sory notes." I had two or three out 
 myself. It was nine o'clock when the 
 hall-boy's bell rang, and I placed my 
 ear to the tube. A gentleman wished to 
 see me in regard to a lost hat. 
 
 "Send him up, James; send him 
 up!" I bawled down the tube. Visions 
 of the club returned, and I tossed 
 Blackstone into a corner. 
 
 Presently there came a tap on the 
 16
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT, 
 
 door, and I flung it wide. But my visi 
 tor was not the benevolent old gentle 
 man. He was the Frenchman whose 
 absinthe had offended me. He glanced 
 at the slip of paper in his hand. 
 
 "I have zee honaire to address zee 
 ah gentleman in numbaire six?" 
 
 "I live here." 
 
 "Delight'! We have meexed zee 
 hats, I have zee r-r-regret. Ees thees 
 your hat?" He held out, for my inspec 
 tion, an opera-hat. "I am so absent- 
 mind' what you call deestrait?" af 
 fably. 
 
 I took the hat, which at first glance 
 I thought to be mine, and went over to 
 the rack, taking down the old stove 
 pipe. 
 
 17
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "This is yours, then?" I said, smil 
 ing. 
 
 "Thousand thanks, m'sieu! Eet ees 
 certain mine. I have zee honaire to beg 
 pardon for zee confusion. My compli 
 ments! Goodnight!" 
 
 Without giving the hat a single 
 glance, he clapped it on his head, 
 bowed and disappeared, leaving me his 
 card. He hadn't been gone two minutes 
 when I discovered that the hat he had 
 exchanged for the stovepipe was not 
 mine. It came from the same firm, but 
 the initials proved it without doubt to 
 belong to the young fellow I had met 
 at the table. I said some uncompli 
 mentary things. Where the deuce <was 
 my hat? Evidently the benevolent old 
 18
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 gentleman hadn't discovered his mis 
 take yet. 
 
 Ting-a-ling! It was the boy's bell 
 again. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Another man after a hat. What's 
 goin' on?" 
 
 "Send him upl" I yelled. It came 
 over me that the Frenchman had made 
 a second mistake. 
 
 I was not disappointed this time in 
 my visitor. It was the benevolent old 
 gentleman. Evidently he had not lo 
 cated his hat either, and might not for 
 some time to come. I began to believe 
 that I had carelessly given it to the 
 Frenchman. He seemed to be terribly 
 excited. 
 
 19
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "You are the gentleman who occu 
 pies number six?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. This is my apartment. 
 You have come in regard to a hat?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. My name is Chittenden. 
 Our hats got mixed up at Martin's this 
 evening; my fault, as usual. I am al 
 ways doing something absurd, my 
 memory is so bad. When I discovered 
 my mistake I was calling on the family 
 of a client with whom I had spent most 
 of the afternoon. I missed some valu 
 able papers, legal documents. I be 
 lieved as usual that I had forgotten to 
 take them with me. They were no 
 where to be found at the house. My 
 client has a very mischievous son, and 
 it seems that he stuffed the papers be- 
 20
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT; 
 
 hind the inside band of my hat. With 
 them there was a letter. I have had two 
 very great scares. A great deal of trou 
 ble would ensue if the papers were lost. 
 I just telephoned that I had located the 
 hat." He laughed pleasantly. 
 
 Good heavens! here was a howdy-do. 
 
 "My dear Mr. Chittenden, there has 
 been a great confusion," I faltered. "I 
 had your hat, but but you have come 
 too late." 
 
 "Too late?" he roared, or I should 
 say, to be exact, shouted. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "What have you done with it?" 
 
 "Not five minutes ago I gave it to a 
 Frenchman, who seemed to recognize 
 it as his. It was the Frenchman, if you 
 21
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 will remember, who sat near your table 
 in the cafe." 
 
 "And this hat isn't yours, then?" 
 helplessly. 
 
 "This" was a flat-brimmed hat of the 
 Paris boulevards, the father of all 
 stovepipe hats, dear to the French 
 man's heart. 
 
 "Candidly, now," said I with a bit 
 of excusable impatience, "do I look 
 like a man who would wear a hat like 
 that?" 
 
 He surveyed me miserably through 
 his eye-glasses. 
 
 "No, I can't say that you do. But 
 what in the world am I to do?" He 
 mopped his brow in the ecstasy of an 
 guish. "The hat must be found. The 
 22
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 legal papers could be replaced, but 
 . . . You see, sir, that boy put a pri 
 vate letter of his sister's in the band of 
 that hat, and it must be recovered at all 
 hazards." 
 
 "I am very sorry, sir." 
 
 "But what shall I do?" 
 
 "I do not see what can be done save 
 for you to leave word at the cafe. The 
 Frenchman is doubtless a frequenter, 
 and may easily be found. If you had 
 come a few moments sooner ..." 
 
 With a gurgle of dismay he fled, 
 leaving me with a half-finished sen 
 tence hanging on my lips and the 
 Frenchman's chapeau hanging on my 
 fingers. And my hat; where was my 
 hat? (I may as well add here, in 
 
 23
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 parenthesis, that the disrppearance of 
 my eight-dollar hat still remains a 
 mystery. I have had to buy a new one.) 
 
 So the boy had put a letter of his 
 sister's in the band of the hat, I mused. 
 How like her kid brother! It seemed 
 that more or less families had Toddy- 
 One-Boys to look after. Pshaw! what 
 a muddle because a man couldn't keep 
 his thoughts from wool-gathering! 
 
 Well, here I had two hats, neither of 
 which was mine. I could, at a pinch, 
 wear the opera-hat, as it was the exact 
 size of the one I had lost. But what 
 was to be done with the Frenchman's? 
 . . . Fool that I was! I rushed over 
 to the table. The Frenchman had left 
 his card, and I had forgotten all about 
 
 24
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 it. And I hadn't asked the benevolent 
 old gentleman where he lived. The 
 Frenchman's card read : "M. de Beau- 
 sire, No. Washington Place." I de 
 cided to go myself to the address, state 
 the matter to Monsieur de Beausire, 
 and rescue the letter. I knew all about 
 these Toddy-One-Boys, and I might be 
 doing some girl a signal service. 
 
 I looked at my watch. It was closing 
 on to ten. So I reluctantly got into my 
 coat again, drew on a top-coat, and put 
 on the hat that fitted me. Probably the 
 girl had been writing some fortunate 
 fellow a love-letter. No gentleman will 
 ever overlook a chance to do a favor 
 for a young girl in distress. I had 
 scarcely drawn my stick from the um- 
 
 25
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 brella-jar when the bell rang once 
 again. 
 
 "Hello!" I called down the tube. 
 Why couldn't they let me be? 
 
 "Lady wants to see you, sir." 
 
 "A lady!" 
 
 "Yes, sir. A real lady; 1-a-d-y. She 
 says she's come to see the gentleman in 
 number six about a plug-hat. What's 
 the graft, anyway?" 
 
 "A plug-hat!" 
 
 "Yes, sir; a plug-hat. She seems a 
 bit anxious. Shall I send her up? She's 
 a peach." 
 
 "Yes, send her up," I answered 
 feebly enough. 
 
 And now there was a woman in the 
 case! I wiped the perspiration from 
 26
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 my brow and wondered what I should 
 say to her. A woman. . . . By Jove! 
 the sister of the mischievous boy! Old 
 Chittenden must have told her where 
 he had gone, and as he hasn't shown up, 
 she's worried. It must be a tremen 
 dously important letter to cause all this 
 hubbub. So I laid aside my hat and 
 waited, tugging and gnawing at my 
 mustache. . . . Had the Girl acted 
 reasonably I shouldn't have gone to 
 Martin's that night. 
 
 How easy it is for a woman to hurt 
 the man she knows is in love with her! 
 And the Girl had hurt me more than I 
 was willing to confess even to myself. 
 She had implied that I had carelessly 
 broken an engagement. 
 27
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 Soon there came a gentle tapping. 
 Certainly the young woman had abun 
 dant pluck. I approached the door 
 quickly, and flung it open. 
 
 The Girl herself stood on the thresh 
 old, and we stared at each other with 
 bewildered eyes ! 
 
 28
 
 II 
 
 She was the most exquisite creature 
 in all the wide world; and here she 
 was, within reach of my hungry arms ! 
 
 "You?" she cried, stepping back, one 
 hand at her throat and the other against 
 the jamb of the door. 
 
 Dumb as ever was Lot's wife (after 
 the turning-point in her career), I 
 stood and stared and admired. A wom 
 an would instantly have noticed the 
 beauty of her sables, but I was a man to 
 whom such details were inconsequent. 
 
 "I did not expect . . . that is, only 
 
 the number of the apartment was 
 
 given," she stammered. "I ... " 
 
 Then her slender figure straightened, 
 
 29
 
 and with an effort she subdued the 
 fright and dismay which had evidently 
 seized her. "Have you Mr. Chitten- 
 den's hat?" 
 
 "Mr. Chittenden's hat?" I repeated, 
 with a tingling in my throat similar to 
 that when you hit your elbow smartly 
 on a sharp corner. "Mr. Chittenden's 
 hat?" 
 
 "Yes; he is so thoughtless that I 
 dared not trust him to search for it 
 alone. Have you got it?" 
 
 Heavens! how my heart beat at the 
 sight of this beautiful being, as she 
 stood there, palpitating between shame 
 and anxiety! She <was beautiful; and I 
 knew instantly that I loved her better 
 than anything else on earth. 
 
 30
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "Mr. Chittenden's hat?" I continued, 
 as lucidly as a trained parrot and in 
 tones not wholly dissimilar. 
 
 "Can't you say anything more than 
 that?" impatiently. 
 
 How much more easily a woman re 
 covers her poise than a man, especially 
 when that man gives himself over as 
 tamely as I did! 
 
 "Was it your letter he was seeking?" 
 I cried, all eagerness and excitement 
 as this one sane thought entered my 
 head. 
 
 "Did he tell you that there was a let 
 ter in it?" scornfully. 
 
 "Yes," guiltily. Heaven only 
 knows why I should have had any sense 
 of guilt.
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "Give it to me at once," impera 
 tively. 
 
 "The hat or the letter?" Truly, I did 
 not know what I was about. Only one 
 thing was plain to my confused mind, 
 and that was the knowledge that I 
 wanted to put my arms around her and 
 carry her far, far away from Toddy- 
 One-Boy. 
 
 "Are you mad, to anger me in this 
 fashion?" she said, balling her little 
 gloved hands wrathfully. Had there 
 been real lightning in her eyes I'd have 
 been dead this long while. "Do you 
 dare believe that I knew you lived in 
 this apartment?" 
 
 "I ... haven't the hat." 
 
 "You dared to search it?" drawing 
 
 32
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 herself up to a supreme height, which 
 was something less than five-feet-two. 
 
 I became angry, and somehow found 
 myself. 
 
 "I never pry into other people's af 
 fairs. You are the last person I ex 
 pected to see this night." 
 
 "Will you answer a single question? 
 I promise not to intrude further upon 
 your time, which, doubtless, is very 
 valuable. Have you either the hat or 
 the letter?" 
 
 "Neither. I knew nothing about any 
 letter till Mr. Chittenden came. But 
 he came too late." 
 
 "Too late?" in an agonized whis 
 per. 
 
 "Yes, too late. I had, unfortunately, 
 
 33
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 given his hat to another gentleman who 
 made a trifling mistake in thinking it 
 to be his own." Suddenly my manners 
 returned to me. "Will you come in?" 
 
 "Come in? No! You have given the 
 hat to another man? A trifling mis 
 take! He calls it a trifling mistake!" 
 addressing the heavens, obscured 
 though they were by the thickness of 
 several ceilings. "Oh, what shall I 
 do?" She began to wring her hands, 
 and when a woman does that what 
 earthly hope is there for the man who 
 looks on? 
 
 "Don't do that!" I implored. "I'll 
 find the hat." At a word from her, for 
 all she had trampled on me, I would 
 gladly have gone to Honolulu in search 
 
 34
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 of a hat-pin. "The gentleman left me 
 his card. With your permission I will 
 go at once in search of him." 
 
 "I have a cab outside. Give me the 
 address." 
 
 "I refuse to permit you to go alone." 
 
 "You have absolutely nothing to say 
 in regard to where I shall or shall not 
 go." - 
 
 "In this one instance. I shall with 
 hold the address." 
 
 How her eyes blazed! 
 
 "Oh, it is easily to be seen that you 
 do not trust me." I was utterly dis 
 couraged. 
 
 "I did not imply that," with the least 
 bit of softening. "Certainly I would 
 trust you. But ..." 
 35
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "Well?" as laughingly as I could. 
 
 "I must be the one to take out that 
 letter," decidedly. 
 
 "I offer to bring you the hat un 
 touched," I replied. 
 
 "I insist on going." 
 
 "Very well; we shall go together; 
 under no other circumstances. This is 
 a common courtesy that I would show 
 to a perfect stranger." 
 
 I put on my derby, took up the 
 Frenchman's card and tile, and bowed 
 her gravely into the main hallway. We 
 did not speak on the way down to the 
 street. We entered the cab in silence, 
 and went rumbling off southwest. 
 When the monotony became positively 
 unbearable I spoke. 
 
 36
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "I regret to force myself upon you." 
 
 No reply. 
 
 "It must be a very important letter." 
 
 "To no one but myself," with ex 
 treme frigidity. 
 
 "His father ought to wring his 
 neck," thinking of Toddy-One-Boy. 
 
 "Sir, he is my brother!" 
 
 "I beg your pardon." It seemed that 
 I wasn't getting on very well. 
 
 We bumped across the Broadway 
 tracks. Once or twice our shoulders 
 touched, and the thrill I experienced 
 was as painful as it was rapturous. 
 What was in a letter that she should go 
 to this extreme to recall it? A heat- 
 flash of jealousy went over me. She had 
 written to some other fellow; for there 
 
 37
 
 always is some other fellow, hang him! 
 . . . And then a grand idea came into 
 my erstwhile stupid head. Here she 
 was, alone with me in a cab. It was the 
 opportunity of a lifetime. I could force 
 her to listen to my explanation. 
 
 "I received your note," I began. "It 
 was cruel and without justice." 
 
 Her chin went up a degree. 
 
 "The worst criminal is not con 
 demned without a hearing, and I have 
 had none." 
 
 No perceptible movement. 
 
 "We are none of us infallible in 
 keeping appointments. We are liable 
 to make mistakes occasionally. Had I 
 known that Tuesday night was the 
 night of the dance I'd have crossed to 
 
 38
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 Jersey in a rowboat but what I'd have 
 kept my engagement." 
 
 The chin remained precipitously in 
 clined. 
 
 "I am poor, and the case involved 
 some of my bread and butter. The work 
 was done at ten, and even then I did not 
 discover that I had in any way affront 
 ed you. I had it down in my note-book 
 as Wednesday night." 
 
 The lips above the chin curled 
 slightly. 
 
 "You see," I went on, striving to 
 keep my voice even-toned, "my uncle 
 is rich, but I ask no odds of him. I 
 live entirely upon what I earn at law. 
 It's the only way I can maintain my 
 individuality, my self-respect and in- 
 
 39
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 dependence. My uncle has often ex 
 pressed his desire to make me a hand 
 some allowance, but what would be the 
 use of all that . . . now?" bit 
 terly. 
 
 The chin moved a little. It was too 
 dark to see what this movement ex 
 pressed. 
 
 "It seems that I am only a very un 
 fortunate fellow." 
 
 "You had given me your promise." 
 
 "I know it." 
 
 "Not that I cared," with cat-like 
 cruelty; "but I lost the last train out 
 while waiting for you. Not even a note 
 to warn me! Not the slightest chance 
 to find an escort! When a man gives his 
 promise to a lady it does not seem pos- 
 40
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 sible that he could forget it ... if 
 he cared to keep it." 
 
 "I tell you honestly that I mixed the 
 dates." How weak my excuses seemed, 
 now that they had passed my lips ! 
 
 "You are sure that you mixed noth 
 ing else?" ironically. (She afterward 
 apologized for this.) "It appears that 
 it would have been better to come 
 alone." 
 
 "I regret I did not give you the ad 
 dress." 
 
 "It is not too late." 
 
 "I never retreat from any position I 
 have taken." 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 Then both our chins assumed an 
 acute angle and remained thus. When
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 a woman is angry she is about as reason 
 able as a frightened horse ; when a man 
 is angry he longs to hit something or 
 smoke a cigar. Imagine my predica 
 ment! 
 
 When the cab reached Washington 
 Place and came to a stand I spoke 
 again. 
 
 "Shall I take the hat in, or will you?" 
 I asked. 
 
 "We shall go together." 
 
 Ah, if only I had had the courage to 
 say: "I would it were for ever!" But 
 I feared that it wouldn't take. 
 
 I rang the bell, and presently a maid 
 opened the door. 
 
 "Is Monsieur de Beausire in?" I 
 asked. 
 
 42
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "No, sir, he is not," the maid an 
 swered civilly. 
 
 "Do you know where he may be 
 found?" 
 
 "If you have a bill you may leave it," 
 frostily and with sudden suspicion. 
 
 There was a smothered sound from 
 behind me, and I flushed angrily. 
 
 "I am not a bill-collector." 
 
 "Oh; it's the second day of the 
 month, you know. I thought perhaps 
 you were." 
 
 "He has in his possession a hat which 
 does not belong to him." 
 
 "Good gracious, he hasn't been steal 
 ing? I don't believe" making as 
 though to shut the door. 
 
 This was too much, and I laughed. 
 43
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "No, my girl ; he hasn't been stealing. 
 But, being absent-minded, he has taken 
 another man's hat, and I am bringing 
 his home in hopes of getting the one he 
 took by mistake." 
 
 "Oh!" And the maid laughed 
 shrilly. 
 
 I held out the hat. 
 
 "My land! that's his hat, sure 
 enough. I was wondering what made 
 him look so funny when he went out." 
 
 "Where has he gone?" came sharply 
 over my shoulder. 
 
 "If you will wait," said the maid 
 good-naturedly, "I will inquire." 
 
 We waited. So far as I was con 
 cerned, I hoped he was miles away, 
 and that we might go on riding for 
 
 44
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 hours and hours. The maid returned 
 soon. 
 
 "He has gone to meet the French 
 consul at Mouquin's." 
 
 "Which one?" I asked. "There are 
 two, one down- and one up-town." 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know. You can 
 leave the hat and your card." 
 
 "Thank you; \ve shall retain the hat. 
 If we find monsieur he will need it." 
 
 "I'm sorry," said the maid sympa 
 thetically. "He's the worst man you 
 ever saw for forgetting things. Some 
 times he goes right by the house and 
 has to walk back." 
 
 "I'm sorry to have bothered you," 
 said I ; and the only girl in the world 
 and myself reentered the cab. 
 
 45
 
 "This is terrible!" she murmured as 
 we drove off. 
 
 "It might be worse," I replied, think 
 ing of the probable long ride with her: 
 perhaps the last I should ever take! 
 
 "How could it be!" 
 
 I had nothing to offer, and subsided 
 for a space. 
 
 "If we should not find him!" 
 
 "I'll sit on his front steps all night 
 . . . Forgive me if I sound flippant; 
 but I mean it." Snow was in the air, 
 and I considered it a great sacrifice on 
 my part to sit on a cold stone in the 
 small morning hours. It looks flippant 
 in print, too, but I honestly meant it. 
 "I am sorry. You are in great trouble 
 of some sort, I know; and there's noth-
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 ing in the world I would not do to save 
 you from this trouble. Let me take you 
 home and continue the search alone. 
 I'll find him if I have to search the 
 whole town." 
 
 "We shall continue the search to 
 gether," wearily. 
 
 What had she written to this other 
 fellow? Did she love some one else and 
 was she afraid that I might learn who 
 it was? My heart became as lead in my 
 bosom. I simply could not lose this 
 charming creature. And now, how was 
 I ever to win her? 
 
 It was not far up-town to the restau 
 rant, and we made good time. 
 
 "Would you know him if you saw 
 him?" she asked as we left the cab. 
 
 47
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "Not the least doubt of it," confi 
 dently. 
 
 She sighed, and together we entered 
 the restaurant. It was full of theater 
 going people, music and the hum of 
 voices. We must have created a small 
 sensation, wandering from table to 
 table, from room to room, the girl with 
 a look of dread and weariness on her 
 face, and I with the Frenchman's hat 
 grasped firmly in my hand and my 
 brows scowling. If I hadn't been in 
 love it would have been a fine comedy. 
 Once I surprised her looking toward 
 the corner table near the orchestra. 
 How many joyous Sunday dinners we 
 had had there! Heigh-ho! 
 
 "Is that he?" she whispered, clutch-
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 ing my arm of a sudden, her gaze di 
 rected to a near-by table. 
 
 I looked and shook my head. 
 
 "No ; my Frenchman has a mustache 
 and a goatee." 
 
 Her hand dropped listlessly. I con 
 fess to the thought that it must have 
 been very trying for her. What a 
 plucky girl she was! She held me in 
 contempt, and yet she clung to me, pa 
 tiently and unmurmuring. And I had 
 lost her! 
 
 "We may have to go down-town. 
 . . . No! as I live, there he is now!" 
 joyfully. 
 
 "Where?" There was half a sob in 
 her throat. 
 
 "The table by the short flight of stairs 
 49
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 . . . the man just lighting the ciga 
 rette. I'll go alone." 
 
 "But I can not stand here alone in 
 the middle of the floor. ..." 
 
 I called a waiter. "Give this lady a 
 chair for a moment;" and I dropped a 
 coin in his palm. He bowed, and beck 
 oned for her to follow. . . . Women 
 are always writing fool things, and then 
 moving Heaven and earth to recall 
 them. 
 
 "Monsieur de Beausire?" I said in 
 quiringly. 
 
 Beausire glanced up. 
 
 "Oh, eet ees . . . I forget zee 
 name?" 
 
 I told him. 
 
 "I am delight' !" he cried joyfully, as 
 50
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 if he had known me all my life. "Zee 
 chair; be seat' ..." 
 
 "Thank you, but it's about the hats." 
 
 "Hats?" 
 
 "Yes. It seems that the hat I gave 
 you belongs to. another man. In your 
 haste you did not notice the mistake. 
 This is your hat," producing the shin 
 ing tile. 
 
 "Mon Dieu!" he gasped, seizing the 
 hat; "eet ees mine! See! I bring heem 
 from France; zee now, ees mine. Via! 
 And I nevaire look in zee uzzer hat! I 
 am pair-ftckly dumfound'!" And his 
 astonishment was genuine. 
 
 "Where is the other hat: the one I 
 gave you?" I was in a great hurry. 
 
 "I have heem here," reaching to the
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 vacant chair at his side, while the 
 French consul eyed us both with some 
 suspicion. We might be lunatics. Beau- 
 sire handed me the benevolent old gen 
 tleman's hat, and the burden dropped 
 from my shoulders. "Eet ees such a 
 meestake! I laugh; eh?" He shook 
 with merriment. "I wear two hats and 
 not know zee meestake!" 
 
 I thanked him and made oft as grace 
 fully as I could. The girl rose as she 
 saw me returning. When I reached her 
 side she was standing with her slender 
 body inclined toward me. She stretched 
 forth a hand and solemnly I gave her 
 Mr. Chittenden's hat. I wondered 
 vaguely if anybody was looking at us, 
 and, if so, what he thought of us. 
 
 5*
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 The girl pulled the hat literally in 
 side out in her eagerness; but her 
 gloved fingers trembled so that the pre 
 cious letter fluttered to the floor. We 
 both stooped, but I was quicker. It 
 was no attempt on my part to see the 
 address; my act was one of common 
 politeness. But I could not help seeing 
 the name. It was my own ! 
 
 "Give it to me!" she cried breath 
 lessly. 
 
 I did so. I was not, at that particular 
 moment, capable of doing anything 
 else. I was too bewildered. My own 
 
 to 
 
 name! She turned, hugging the hat, the 
 legal documents and the letter, and hur 
 ried down the main stairs, I at her 
 heels. 
 
 53
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "Tell the driver my address; I can 
 return alone." 
 
 "I can not permit that," I objected 
 decidedly. "The driver is a stranger to 
 us both. I insist on seeing you to the 
 door; after that you may rest assured 
 that I shall no longer inflict upon you 
 my presence, odious as it doubtless is 
 to you." 
 
 As she was already in the cab and 
 could not get out without aid, I climbed 
 in beside her and called the street and 
 number to the driver. 
 
 "Legally the letter is mine; it is ad 
 dressed to me, and had passed out of 
 your keeping." 
 
 "You shall never, never have it!" 
 vehemently. 
 
 54
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "It is not necessary that I should," I 
 replied; "for I vaguely understand." 
 
 I saw that it was all over. There was 
 now no reason why I should not speak 
 my mind fully. 
 
 "I can understand without reading. 
 You realized that your note was cruel 
 and unlike anything you had done, and 
 your good heart compelled you to write 
 an apology; but your pride got the bet 
 ter of you, and upon second thought 
 you concluded to let the unmerited 
 hurt go on." 
 
 "Will you kindly stop the driver, or 
 shall I?" 
 
 "Does truth annoy you?" 
 
 "I decline to discuss truth with you. 
 Will you stop the driver?" 
 55
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "Not until we reach Seventy-first 
 Street West." 
 
 "By what right" 
 
 "The right of a man who loves you. 
 There, it is out, and my pride has gone 
 down the wind. After to-night I shall 
 trouble you no further. But every man 
 has the right to tell one woman that he 
 loves her ; and I love you. I loved you 
 the moment I first laid eyes on you. I 
 couldn't help it. I say this to you now 
 because I perceive how futile it is. 
 What dreams I have conjured up about 
 you ! Poor fool ! When I was at work 
 your face was always crossing the page 
 or peering up from the margins. I 
 never saw a fine painting that I did not 
 think of you, or heard a fine piece of 
 
 $(>
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 music that I did not think of your 
 voice." 
 
 There was a long interval of silence ; 
 block after block went by. I never once 
 looked at her. 
 
 "If I had been rich I should have put 
 it to the touch some time ago; but my 
 poverty seems to have been fortunate; 
 it has saved me a refusal. In some way 
 I have mortally offended you; how, I 
 can not imagine. It can not be simply 
 because I innocently broke an engage 
 ment." 
 
 Then she spoke. 
 
 "You dined after the theater that 
 
 night with a comic-opera singer. You 
 
 were quite at liberty to do so, only you 
 
 might have done me the honor to no- 
 
 57
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 tify me that you had made your choice 
 of entertainment." 
 
 So it was out! Decidedly it was all 
 over now. I never could explain away 
 the mistake. 
 
 "I have already explained to you my 
 unfortunate mistake. There was and is 
 no harm that I can see in dining with 
 a woman of her attainments. But I 
 shall put up no defense. You have con 
 victed me. I retract nothing I have 
 said. I do love you." 
 
 I was very sorry for myself. 
 
 Cabby drew up. I alighted, and she 
 silently permitted me to assist her 
 down. I expected her immediately to 
 mount the steps. Instead, she hesitated, 
 the knuckle of a forefinger against her
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 lips, and assumed the thoughtful pose 
 of one who contemplates two courses. 
 
 "Have you a stamp?" she asked 
 finally. 
 
 "A stamp?" blankly. 
 
 "Yes ; a postage-stamp." 
 
 I fumbled in my pocket and found, 
 luckily, a single pink square, which I 
 gave to her. She moistened it with the 
 tip of her tongue and . . . stuck it 
 on the letter! 
 
 "Now, please, drop this in the corner 
 box for me, and take this hat over to 
 Mr. Chittenden's Sixty-ninth." 
 
 "What" 
 
 "Do as I say, or I shall ask you to 
 return the letter to me." 
 
 I rushed off toward the letter-box, 
 
 59
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 drew down the lid, and deposited the 
 letter my letter. When I turned she 
 was running up the steps, and a second 
 later she had disappeared. 
 
 I hadn't been so happy in all my life I 
 
 Cabby waited at the curb. 
 
 Suddenly I became conscious that I 
 was holding something in my hand. It 
 was the benevolent old gentleman's 
 stovepipe hat! 
 
 I pushed the button : pushed it good 
 and hard. Presently I heard a window 
 open cautiously. 
 
 "What is it?" asked a querulous 
 voice. 
 
 "Mr. Chittenden?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, here's your hat!" I cried. 
 60
 
 THE WRONG COAT 
 
 IF it hadn't rained at Waterloo Na 
 poleon might not have sunk to the 
 obscure fame of a cigar label ; if Lot's 
 wife (whose name, at this particular 
 moment, I fail to recollect) hadn't 
 looked around, many's the humorist 
 who would be shy sundry half dollars; 
 if Ulysses hadn't met Calypso, Penel 
 ope's knitting would have been accom 
 plished in a reasonably small compass 
 of time: thus, if, on the morning of 
 March tenth, a blizzard hadn't romped 
 in from the Atlantic, there wouldn't 
 have been any wrong coat. The day 
 61
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 before had been treacherously warm 
 and springlike, and I had gone about 
 my affairs without any coat. It is al 
 ways the seemingly infinitesimal things 
 that count heaviest in the final reckon 
 ing. 
 
 I hadn't gone two blocks from Mou- 
 quin's that night, when I noted the fact 
 that I was wearing a coat that did not 
 belong to me. With a growl I turned 
 around and went back. I simply wasted 
 my time; my coat was nowhere to be 
 found. I stormed about, sending the 
 waiters jumping all over the restaurant, 
 but to no avail. Finally I calmed down 
 and admitted that it was all my own 
 fault. I should have examined the coat 
 when I shouldered into it. So I left 
 62
 
 THE WRONG COAT 
 
 word at the cashier's desk and sought 
 the street again. 
 
 Doubtless you have lost a coat or hat, 
 in your time, if you who read happen 
 to be a man. It is curious, but, no mat 
 ter how much you are bettered in the 
 exchange, you raise a howl, you make 
 the echoes ache with your lamentations. 
 There is nothing on earth you want 
 save your own coat and hat. To be 
 sure, if, in the pockets of the wrong 
 coat, there happen to be several thou 
 sand dollars, your howl is modified and 
 innocuous, and you go at once to look 
 for the other fellow, perhaps. But, as 
 in this instance there were only thirty- 
 five cents, a canceled railroad ticket, 
 and a scattering of cloves and tabloids 
 
 63
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 for the breath, my cries were heard 
 afar. Hang all absent-minded duffers, 
 myself included, whose wits go wool 
 gathering at bad times! The coat was 
 just like mine, a light gray winter pad 
 dock, lined with heavy satin. The only 
 difference lay in the sleeves : these had 
 small-change pockets, whereas mine 
 had none. It was even exchange and no 
 robbery, but I was none the less angry. 
 The truth is, it was just after the first 
 of the month and there were four or 
 five unpaid bills in the inside pocket 
 of my coat. (One was the bill for the 
 coat!) So I climbed the stairs to the 
 elevated station in no amiable frame 
 of mind. Well, well; it really did not 
 matter if the gentleman who had ap-
 
 THE WRONG COAT 
 
 propriated my coat learned that I owed 
 my tailor. To owe one's tailor as long 
 as the law permits is quite customary, 
 not only customary, but also proper 
 and commendable. The other bills 
 were for cigars, gloves, and hats; that 
 is to say, of no great importance. 
 
 I plumped into a vacant seat and 
 glowered at the street below. It had 
 stopped snowing and the wind had 
 gone down. For once in my life I took 
 no interest in the advertising signs. I 
 wanted my coat, and for all I knew the 
 man who had it might stumble under 
 an automobile and ruin the garment; 
 and, even if he didn't ruin it, it would 
 smell tolerably strong of gasolene. I 
 conjured up all manner of catastrophes 
 
 65
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 regarding the ultimate end of my coat 
 The other fellow might be burned up 
 in it; he might fall down a greasy ele 
 vator shaft in it; he might even be 
 lugged to jail in it, which was not at 
 all unlikely, the cloves and tabloids 
 speaking not very well of his habits. 
 Was there ever such luck? 
 
 Having no newspaper with which to 
 pass away the time, I fell once more to 
 rummaging the wrong coat. As I 
 searched the pockets, my sense of guilt 
 was in nowise agitated. Doubtless the 
 owner was at that moment going 
 through the pockets of my coat. Thus, 
 honors were even. But I found nothing 
 by which to identify my man. One's 
 identity can not be established by means 
 66
 
 THE WRONG COAT 
 
 of thirty-five cents, a worthless ticket, 
 and a few cloves. A. Conan Doyle 
 might accomplish such a feat, but I 
 couldn't. . . . Hello! What was 
 this? From the handkerchief pocket I 
 drew forth an envelope; but, as I 
 glanced at it, my hopes slumped. The 
 address side was missing; only the seal- 
 ing-flaps remained. I was about to toss 
 it contemptuously into the aisle, when 
 I discovered that it was covered with 
 pencil scribblings. . . . Merciful 
 heavens! I held the thing under my 
 very nose and read, with horrified eyes : 
 
 "Girl must die between twelve and 
 one o'clock. 
 Chloroform,
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 Bow-window at side unlatched, 
 enter there. 
 
 Safe in library. Secure will. Leave 
 by front door. 
 
 Servants' night out. Girl alone." 
 
 Mystery! I sat up straight and 
 breathed quickly. I saw it all very 
 plainly. Fate had thrust this coat upon 
 me; Fate had given me a mission; I 
 might be the means of saving the girl's 
 life. I was an amateur detective, after 
 a fashion, and more than once, in the 
 old newspaper days, I had succeeded 
 where the police had failed. 
 
 In a far corner of the envelope was a 
 house address. Without doubt it was 
 the very house in which this murder 
 68
 
 THE WRONG COAT 
 
 was to be committed. I glanced at my 
 watch. It was eleven o'clock. There 
 was plenty of time. . . . Or, had the 
 crime already been perpetrated? I 
 shuddered. It was left for me to find 
 out. "Servants' night out," I thought. 
 This might or might not be servants' 
 night out. In any event I should have 
 the happiness of confounding a great 
 rascal. From the address I learned that 
 the house was located in a particularly 
 aristocratic part of the West Side. But 
 why should he kill the girl? Ha! I 
 had it. There was a will. No doubt she 
 stood between! With the girl dead, the 
 property would fall to him. It sounded 
 like a play at the Fourteenth Street 
 Theater; but, in real life, the melo- 
 
 69
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 drama is closest to our every-day af 
 fairs. 
 
 I at once determined not to notify 
 the police ; they would only bungle the 
 matter with the red tape of delay. I 
 could call them in when the work was 
 over. 
 
 And to think that this ruffian's taste 
 in overcoats was one and identical with 
 mine! I had half a notion to tear off 
 the coat, only it would have attracted 
 attention, and, besides, it was cold. 
 
 Some men would have shrugged 
 their shoulders and permitted the thing 
 to go on. In a great city the good 
 Samaritan is usually looked upon as a 
 meddler; and, besides, every one has 
 trouble enough of his own. The girl 
 70
 
 THE WRONG COAT 
 
 was nothing to me ; even her name was 
 unknown. I hoped, however, that she 
 was beautiful and young. My duty lay 
 clear enough. It was possible to save a 
 human being, and that was all there 
 was to the matter. Any right-minded 
 man would have done exactly as I did, 
 though hardly with the same result. 
 (This is not to say that I'm not right- 
 minded, however!) If I should save 
 the girl from her persecutor, I should 
 always have something to fall back on 
 if by any chance I myself left the 
 straight and narrow way. To save a 
 life is to do penance for many sins. 
 
 Putting aside all flippant moraliz 
 ing, it was an adventure such as in 
 variably appeals to me, and it is a
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 habit of mine to pursue things to the 
 end. It is a fine and noble pursuit, that 
 of research; it takes courage and pa 
 tience. But sometimes, as in cases like 
 this adventure of mine, persons lacking 
 my sense of the romantic are called 
 busybodies. 
 
 I do not recollect what street it was 
 in the eighties that the guard bawled 
 out, but it was near enough for my pur 
 pose. I hurried out of the car and 
 down the steps of the Elevated. Every 
 body gets in the way of a man in a 
 hurry; so, for a block or more, the time 
 was spent in making apologies to gruff- 
 tempered persons. They would get in 
 my way, and they 'would demand what 
 I meant by not looking where I was go- 
 72
 
 THE WRONG COAT 
 
 ing. Finally I succeeded in ridding 
 myself of the crowds, and turned into 
 a quiet and sober street. The sign on 
 the lamp-post told me that I had 
 arrived on the scene. It was twenty 
 minutes past eleven. Two things were 
 possible: either the girl had been killed 
 the night before or I had half an hour 
 or so in which to render her the great 
 est possible service. 
 
 The house proved to be a fine struc 
 ture, one of those few dwellings in the 
 metropolis that boast of anything like 
 a court or yard. This yard was at the 
 right of the building, and was more a 
 roadway to the stables in the rear than 
 anything else. Still, I may stretch it a 
 point and call it a yard. I cast a hasty 
 
 73
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 glance about. Not a soul was in sight. 
 I tried one of the gates. It was un 
 latched! This certainly must be the 
 night. I stole up the roadway cau 
 tiously. The fact that I left some fine 
 tracks in the snow did not disturb me. 
 7 was not guilty of anything wrong. 
 Yes, there was the bow-window 
 through which the rascal was to enter. 
 There would be a surprise in store for 
 him. A subdued light shone through 
 the half-closed blinds. Some one was 
 awake; doubtless the girl herself, read 
 ing. 
 
 Everything was working out nicely. 
 I would even save her any real annoy 
 ance. 
 
 I tiptoed back to the gate, and was 
 
 74
 
 THE WRONG COAT 
 
 about to make my exit, when I paused, 
 horrified, my heart in my mouth. 
 Coming airily along the walk was a 
 policeman. He was whistling popular 
 Irish melodies and swinging his night 
 stick. The deuce! Suppose he took it 
 into his head to examine the gates? I 
 hid behind the great stone gate-post, 
 breathing with difficulty. If there was 
 anything in the world I did not want 
 to happen, it was to be arrested in this 
 other fellow's coat! Besides the police 
 man wouldn't believe a word I said. 
 He would hale me to the nearest police 
 station, and all my efforts to save the 
 girl would come to nothing. 
 
 The policeman did start for the gate, 
 but a cat-fight across the street dis- 
 
 75
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 tracted him and he crossed over to 
 break up the conflict. I was saved. 
 After a reasonable length of time, I 
 stole forth. It was a close shave. 
 
 I dare say that I have omitted the 
 fact that I am young, still under thirty, 
 and am a struggling dramatist, after 
 having been a struggling poet, into 
 which craft I had drifted after having 
 been a struggling humorist. The main 
 fault of my want of success I lay to the 
 fact that I do not look the various parts. 
 As a dramatist, I lack the requisite irri 
 tability of temper; as a poet, I have not 
 that distinct disregard for personal 
 appearance usually considered char 
 acteristic; as a humorist, I am totally 
 deficient of the long, cadaverous and
 
 THE WRONG COAT 
 
 dyspeptic countenance and lusterless 
 eye of the typical writer of funny fan 
 cies. When my uncle died and left me 
 a comfortable income, Art received a 
 staggering blow, from which it is 
 doubtful she will ever recover. A 
 spinster aunt insists that I am more 
 than ordinarily agreeable to the eye; 
 but, of course, blood is partial to blood. 
 That is enough for the present of what 
 the amiable Thackeray called "first 
 person, singular, perpendicular." 
 
 When once more in the street, I 
 boldly approached the steps, mounted 
 slowly, and pushed the button. If a 
 maid or a footman should open the 
 door, I should know instantly that it 
 was not servants' night off. It remained 
 
 77
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 only for the girl herself to answer my 
 summons. 
 
 This she did. 
 
 I remarked, elsewhere, that I hoped 
 she would be young and beautiful. She 
 was. I wasn't exactly expecting such a 
 vision of loveliness. Her hair was like 
 golden cobwebs, her eyes like sap 
 phires, and her complexion had the 
 shadowy bloom of a young peach. I 
 stared, standing first on one foot, then 
 on the other. 
 
 "What is it?" she asked, rather im 
 patiently. 
 
 It was quite evident that she had been 
 deeply absorbed in the book she held 
 in her hand. I wondered how I should 
 begin I 
 
 78
 
 THE WRONG COAT 
 
 "Well, sir?" 
 
 "Are you the young lady of the 
 house?" I finally summoned up the 
 courage to ask. 
 
 "Yes." The door moved perceptibly 
 toward me. 
 
 "I have, then, something of vital im 
 portance to tell you." 
 
 "Call to-morrow morning," she re 
 plied briefly. The door continued to 
 move in my direction. 
 
 I saw that I must act quickly, or turn 
 the matter over to the police, which I 
 was exceedingly loath to do. 
 
 "It is a matter of life and death," I 
 said determinedly. 
 
 "Life and death? Whose?" she 
 asked, with discouraging brevity. 
 
 79
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 Then she cried suddenly: "Has any 
 thing happened to my brother?" 
 
 "Brother? Not that I know. It is 
 you!" 
 
 "What?" She inclined toward me, 
 and for a moment the door ceased to 
 gravitate outward. 
 
 "You possess a terrible enemy, known 
 or unknown." 
 
 "An enemy? ... I haven't the 
 least idea, sir, what the meaning of this 
 hoax can " 
 
 "Hoax!" I interrupted. "It isn't a 
 hoax; it is frightfully serious, as you 
 will soon learn, if you will only be so 
 kind as to give me a few moments of 
 your attention." 
 
 There spread over her beautiful face 
 80
 
 THE WRONG COAT 
 
 various shades of amazement, indigna 
 tion, and fear. Hoax! It was, indeed, 
 a very ungrateful world. Decidedly, 
 this time, the girl meant to close the 
 door in my face. Resolutely, I shoul 
 dered past her into the hall! 
 
 "How dare you?" she cried, her 
 wonderful eyes blazing and wrath dye 
 ing her cheeks. "If you do not in 
 stantly go, I shall call for help. How 
 dare you?" 
 
 "This is servants' night out, and your 
 aunt is away," I said, intending to tell 
 her all at once. 
 
 But she suddenly drew back against 
 the wall and gazed at me as if for all 
 the world I resembled the uprising of 
 Jason's dragon-teeth. 
 81
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "What do you want?" she asked, in 
 a panting whisper. "There isn't a 
 penny in the house 1" 
 
 Goodness! if the girl didn't take me 
 for a burglar! 
 
 "Do you think I'm a burglar?" I 
 gasped. 
 
 "But," piteously. 
 
 "I am simply here to do you a serv 
 ice ; and it is a service." 
 
 "There are no jewels save these 
 rings. Take them and go." She 
 stripped her fingers and held the rings 
 toward me. 
 
 I flushed hotly. "Will you do me the 
 
 honor to listen to me?" I asked, as 
 
 calmly as I could. "Put back those 
 
 rings; otherwise I shall regret that I 
 
 82
 
 THE WRONG COAT 
 
 took it upon myself to befriend you. I 
 am not a burglar." 
 
 She complied, but the terror in her 
 eyes subsided none. (I learned after 
 ward that several robberies had 
 recently been committed in the neigh 
 borhood.) 
 
 "At a restaurant, to-night," I began, 
 "I got another man's coat by mistake. 
 In a pocket of this coat I found evi 
 dence that a terrible crime was about 
 to be perpetrated. I came here to aid 
 you." 
 
 She stared at me wildly and fumbled 
 her rings. 
 
 "You have," I continued, "a deadly 
 enemy, a wretch who wishes to put you 
 out of the way. You may not know who 
 
 83
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 he is, but none the less he exists. You 
 stand between him and a will. It is 
 money, the greed of it, that brings him 
 like a wolf to your door. According to 
 my information, he is to enter here be 
 tween the hours of twelve and one, 
 chloroform you, and pilfer the safe. 
 He knows the habits of this household 
 well, for he is aware that on this night 
 neither your aunt nor your servants 
 would be in." 
 
 She still eyed me with unchanging 
 terror. 
 
 "It was only human on my part," I 
 went on, "to make known to you what 
 I had found." 
 
 Suddenly an inexplicable change 
 came over her.
 
 THE WRONG COAT 
 
 '"Yes, yes; I see, I understand I 
 Thank you! Oh, thank you!" hyster 
 ically. "Come into the drawing-room 
 and sit down. I have been dreading 
 this moment for months !" 
 
 Dreading it for months? And yet 
 she remained alone in this big house? 
 I was vastly puzzled; but I followed 
 her into the drawing-room and sat 
 down, waiting for a further explana 
 tion on her part. She was a rarely 
 beautiful creature, and the idea that 
 any man could harbor thoughts against 
 this exquisite life filled my soul with 
 horror. 
 
 "The will is in the safe, but the safe 
 is in the library. Wait till I go and see 
 if the papers are intact." She hurried 
 
 85
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 from the room, leaving me with a sense 
 of utter bewilderment. There was 
 something about her present actions 
 that I could not understand. She was 
 gone fully five minutes. When she re 
 turned she was very pale, but all her 
 agitation was gone or suppressed. 
 "The will is there ; nothing, as yet, has 
 been disturbed. Tell me all you know," 
 looking anxiously at the clock, the 
 hands of which were now close upon 
 midnight. 
 
 I reviewed the whole affair. 
 
 "Yes, I have a terrible enemy, who 
 seeks my life at every turn," her slen 
 der fingers snarling and unsnarling. 
 
 I nodded comprehensively. "You 
 ought never to be alone," I said. 
 86
 
 THE WRONG COAT 
 
 "I realize that. This will . . . 
 leaves me untold mining property. 
 ... To my horror I must confess 
 that this man is a near relative." 
 
 "Your brother?" I whispered. 
 
 "Heavens, no! A cousin; yes, that is 
 it, a cousin. I live from day to day in 
 constant misery." 
 
 "Frightful!" 
 
 "Is it not? And I am so young!" 
 Then she proceeded to tell me what I 
 believed to be the family history. It 
 was marvelously complicated. 
 
 "It seems incredible," I observed; 
 "yet we read of like tales every day in 
 the newspapers." 
 
 "And no words of mine can express 
 my thanks to you, sir. You have put 
 
 87
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 me on my guard. I had heard that my 
 uncle " 
 
 "Uncle?" 
 
 "Did I say uncle?" with a catchy 
 sort of laugh. "I meant cousin. I was 
 going to say that I had heard he had 
 left the country." 
 
 But why did she watch me so close 
 ly? Every move I made caused her to 
 start. When I turned down the collar 
 of the other fellow's coat, she shud 
 dered ; when I drew off my gloves, she 
 paled; when I folded my arms, she sent 
 a terrified glance toward the door. I 
 could not make any sense out of her ac 
 tions. 
 
 "To prove the manner of his en 
 trance, let me see if the bow-window is
 
 THE WRONG COAT 
 
 unlatched. But wait I" I cried, produc 
 ing the frayed envelope. "Listen to 
 this and see how carefully he planned 
 it, the rascal!" I then read to her the 
 scribbling, putting careful emphasis on 
 the bow-window and servants* night 
 out. "Now, if you 'do not mind, I'll try 
 the window." 
 
 Sure enough, it was unlatched I 
 
 "You see?" I cried triumphantly. 
 
 The wild look returned to the girl's 
 eyes. 
 
 "Let let me see that paper!" 
 holding one hand to her throat while 
 the other she stretched out toward me. 
 
 I gave the paper to her. She glanced 
 at it, dropped it, and burst into tears. 
 
 "Good heavens!" I cried.
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 Then she laughed shrilly and hys 
 terically. 
 
 "What is the matter?" 
 
 "You positively came here, then, to 
 do me a real service ; and all the while 
 I have been thinking that you were 
 
 a 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "A lunatic!" covering her face. 
 
 "A lunatic?" I was absolutely dum- 
 founded. 
 
 "Yes; and when I left the room it 
 was simply to call the police. The 
 manner of your entrance, the incred 
 ible thing you told me, sir, there is 
 some dreadful mistake. I haven't an 
 enemy in the whole world. There is no 
 will in the safe. My brother and I live 
 90
 
 THE WRONG COAT 
 
 with our aunt, who owns this house. 
 We have no property whatever. What 
 I have been telling you was in the effort 
 to keep you in good humor till the po 
 lice arrived. But what can it all mean? 
 It is simply incredible." 
 
 I picked up the envelope and stared 
 at it stupidly. "The address is the 
 same," I said, trying to find something 
 to stand on. 
 
 "I know it; that's what makes it so 
 uncanny. I can not possibly under 
 stand. Perhaps the police can untangle 
 it." 
 
 The police! I saw that I should 
 have to give a good account of myself 
 when the police arrived. Where did I 
 stand, anyhow? What did it mean? 
 
 9'
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 No man would write such a thing for 
 the fun of it. 
 
 "I'm sorry," said I awkwardly. "I 
 thought I was doing right. Indeed, I 
 really thought so." 
 
 "And I thank you. You will admit 
 that some of my suspicions were ex 
 cusable. To whom am I indebted?" 
 graciously. In this mood she was 
 charming. 
 
 I told her my name. 
 
 She looked puzzled, and finally 
 shook her head. 
 
 "It has a familiar sound, but I can 
 not place it." 
 
 "There goes the bell," I exclaimed. 
 "It's the police, come for the luna 
 tic!" 
 
 92
 
 THE WRONG COAT 
 
 The girl flew to the door. I could 
 easily read her mind. If I 'was a bur 
 glar or a lunatic, the police meant pro 
 tection ; in case my errand was in good 
 faith, there would still be the police to 
 greet the mysterious stranger. 
 
 Presently she returned, followed by 
 a private detective and two policemen. 
 
 "Is this the fellow?" asked the for 
 mer, scowling at me. 
 
 The girl explained, rather incoher 
 ently, her mistake. Everybody sat 
 down. It was quite a social gathering, 
 or would have been but for the scrutiny 
 of the police, which I bore none too 
 well. From all sides questions came 
 popping at me, and it was only by the 
 use of the telephone connecting my 
 
 93
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 bachelor quarters that I succeeded in 
 establishing my identity. The frayed 
 envelope was vastly interesting to the 
 police. They read it forward and back 
 ward, upside down, and even held it 
 close to the fire to see if any sympa 
 thetic ink had been used in writing it. 
 
 "I guess Mr. Carewe's a well-mean- 
 in' chap, miss," volunteered the detect 
 ive. "But this matter will need close 
 attention. It looks like a tough propo 
 sition." He began to ply her with ques 
 tions, but to no avail. 
 
 During the examination I vaguely 
 wondered what the other fellow was 
 doing with my coat. 
 
 The clock on the mantel struck half 
 after midnight. 
 
 94
 
 THE WRONG COAT 
 
 "There's only one thing to be done," 
 said the detective; "and that's to turn 
 out the lights and wait for the blood 
 thirsty gent." 
 
 For three-quarters of an hour we 
 five sat in the semi-darkness, our ears 
 strained to catch the faintest foreign 
 sound. Once I sneezed suddenly, and 
 one of the policemen nearly fell out of 
 his chair. It may seem funny to you 
 who read, but it was mighty serious to 
 the girl and myself. The suspense was 
 nerve-racking. We scarcely dared 
 breathe naturally. The occasional 
 slumping of the coal in the grate was 
 pregnant with terrors. And our faces, 
 seen but dimly, were drawn and tense 
 with the silent watching. Every eye 
 
 95
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 was directed toward the baleful win 
 dow, through which, at any moment, 
 we expected to see a man crawl. 
 
 "Shi" The detective raised a warn 
 ing hand. 
 
 On the stillness of the night there 
 came a clicking sound, like that of a 
 key being inserted in a lock. Presently 
 we heard the hall door open and close. 
 We waited in agony, or at least I did. 
 Possibly a minute passed, and then we 
 saw the figure of a man loom in the 
 doorway. We saw his arm extend 
 toward the electric-light button, and 
 instantly the room became brilliant 
 with light. 
 
 The young man blinked at us ami we 
 blinked at him. 
 
 96
 
 "If you move a step," said the 'de 
 tective threateningly, "I'll plug you 
 full o' lead." 
 
 "What the d ?" began the new 
 comer, gazing from face to face. 
 
 "Stop!" cried the girl, springing to 
 his side; "it is my brother!" 
 
 Her brother! I looked at the man 
 with indescribable horror. He had on 
 my coat! And, more than this, he was 
 a man on whose honor I would for 
 merly have staked my life Arthur 
 Kellerd, one of my classmates at col 
 lege. And this exquisite girl was his 
 sister, the girl I had always been want 
 ing to meet! 
 
 "Your brother!" cried the detective, 
 taken aback. 
 
 97
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "Yes, her brother," said Kellerd 
 amiably. "Now, what's all this pother 
 about, anyhow?" Here he chanced to 
 get a good square look at me. "Hang 
 me, if it isn't Dicky Carewe! and 
 wearing my coat I" He came forward 
 and grasped my limp hand and 
 pumped it. "If you only knew how 
 I've been cursing you!" he added, 
 laughing. 
 
 Then everybody began to talk at 
 once, and nobody would have learned 
 anything had not the detective reso 
 lutely interfered. He thrust the frayed 
 envelope under Kellerd's nose. 
 
 "Do you know anything about this?" 
 he demanded. 
 
 Kellerd scrutinized it for a moment,
 
 THE WRONG COAT 
 
 and then began to laugh; I might say 
 that he roared. 
 
 "I'm askin' you if you know any 
 thing about it?" repeated the detective 
 coldly. 
 
 "I ought to know all about it," an 
 swered Kellerd finally; "I wrote it not 
 four days ago." 
 
 "Arthur!" cried the girl, her voice 
 full of shame, horror, anguish and re 
 proach. 
 
 "Come, come, Nancy; it's all a curi 
 ous mistake, a very curious mistake; 
 and you'll all readily understand why 
 I laughed, when I explain." 
 
 "A joke, eh?" said the detective. 
 "Perhaps you can explain it, and per 
 haps you can't," truculently. 
 
 99
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "Easily. You have doubtless heard 
 of Norman Douglas," he began. 
 
 The police shook their heads, but the 
 girl and I looked interested. 
 
 "Douglas is the fellow who's writing 
 
 * 
 
 all those queer detective yarns for the 
 magazines," said I. 
 
 "Well," said Kellerd, "I've been 
 trying to keep it dark, but here's where 
 I must confess. I'm Douglas, and that 
 slip of paper represents the climax to 
 a chapter in a new story. Come into 
 the library, gentlemen." 
 
 We followed soberly, even foolishly. 
 Kellerd drew out from a drawer in his 
 desk a bundle of manuscript, and the 
 paragraph he read aloud coincided 
 with the writing on the envelope. 
 100
 
 THE WRONG COAT 
 
 "Well, I'm jiggered!" breathed the 
 detective heavily. 
 
 I looked around for a hole to crawl 
 into, but there wasn't any. 
 
 "Your sister notified us that a lunatic 
 was at large and had forcibly entered 
 the house," said the detective, perfectly 
 willing to cast all the odium on my 
 shoulders. (I could have throttled him 
 with joy in my heart!) 
 
 "A lunatic?" roared Kellerd. For a 
 moment I thought he was going to die 
 of suffocation, and if he had I should 
 not have been sorry at that moment. 
 To have made an ass of myself before 
 the prettiest girl I had ever laid eyes 
 on! 
 
 "I'm very sorry," said the girl. 
 101
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "Never you mind," I replied. "Some 
 day I'll tell you all about the tabloids 
 for the breath I found in Arthur's 
 coat." 
 
 A short time after, the policemen 
 solemnly filed out into the hall and into 
 the street; and, not being in a strictly 
 amiable frame of mind, I started to 
 follow. 
 
 "Oh, hang it, now, Dicky!" cried 
 Kellerd; "a man who used to be a pro 
 fessional joke-writer ought not to har 
 bor any ill feelings. Have a cigar?" 
 
 I shook my head. I had an idea that 
 I wanted to utilize. 
 
 "But I want you to meet my sister." 
 
 "I am delighted," bowing rather 
 stiffly. 
 
 '102
 
 THE WRONG COAT 
 
 "But you're not going off with my 
 coat again!" 
 
 I flushed, and shook the erstwhile 
 evil garment from my shoulders. 
 
 "Not just a friendly cigar?" pleaded 
 Kellerd. 
 
 "Nary a one." 
 
 The girl approached shyly and 
 touched my arm. (This was my idea.) 
 
 "Not even a cup of chocolate, if I 
 make it?" 
 
 "Oh," said I, "that's altogether a 
 different matter." 
 
 Subsequent events proved that it was.
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANT 
 MENT 
 
 SO much depended on every one's 
 utter lack of nervousness and em 
 barrassment that Shaw, the stage man 
 ager, decided my presence at the final 
 rehearsal would only add to the ten 
 sion, and was therefore unnecessary. 
 The "star" complained that her efforts 
 to interpret my lines to my satisfaction 
 were wearing her thin, while the "lead 
 ing man" declared that he could not 
 enter naturally into the spirit of the 
 105
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 comedy so long as he knew I was 
 watching from across the front. 
 
 To tell the truth, I was not unagree 
 able. There were many things I wanted 
 to change, and I knew that if I once 
 got headway I should have to write the 
 play all over; and that was not in the 
 contract. My room was better than my 
 company. So Shaw gave me a card to 
 The Players and left me there in the 
 care of a distinguished fellow dram 
 atist. 
 
 We had a capital dinner, an'd our 
 exchange of experiences would have 
 made a book equal in length to Revela 
 tion. What a time a fellow has to get a 
 manager to listen to a better play than 
 he has yet produced! I'm afraid that 
 1 06
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 we said many uncomplimentary things 
 about actors in general and managers 
 in particular. The actor always has his 
 own idea, the manager has his, and be 
 tween them the man who wrote the 
 play is pretty well knocked about. But 
 when the play is produced every one's 
 idea proves of some use, so I find. 
 
 In spite of the good dinner and the 
 interesting conversation, I found my 
 self glancing constantly at my watch or 
 at the clock, thinking that at such and 
 such a time to-morrow night my pup 
 pets would be uttering such and such a 
 line, perhaps as I wanted them to utter 
 it, perhaps as they wanted to utter it. 
 It did not matter that I had written two 
 successful novels and a popular com- 
 107
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 edy; I was still subject to spells of 
 diffidence and greenness. Much de 
 pended upon this second effort; it 
 was, or it was not, to establish me in 
 New York as a playwright of the first 
 
 order. 
 
 i 
 
 I played a game of billiards indif 
 ferently well, peered into Booth's room 
 and evoked his kindly spirit to watch 
 over my future, smoked incessantly, 
 and waited impatiently for Shaw's 
 promised telephone call. The call came 
 at ten-thirty, and Shaw said that three 
 acts had gone off superbly and that 
 everything pointed to a big success. 
 My spirits rose wonderfully. I had as 
 yet never experienced the thrill of a 
 curtain call, my first play having been 
 108
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 produced while I was abroad. If they 
 called me before the curtain my cup 
 would be full ; there would be nothing 
 left in the world but to make money, 
 all other thrills having come and de 
 parted. All at once I determined to 
 run up-town to the theater and steal in 
 to see the last act. So I called for my 
 hat and coat, apologized to my friend, 
 and went forth into the night and 
 romance! 
 
 Gramercy Park is always still at 
 night, quiet even in the very heart of 
 turmoil. Only an indefinable murmur 
 drifted over from the crowded life of 
 Broadway. I was conning some lines I 
 thought fine, epigrams and fragmen 
 tary philosophy. 
 
 109
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "Hurry! We have only half an 
 hour!" 
 
 The voice, soft and musical, broke 
 the silence ere my foot had left the last 
 step. Amazed, I looked in the direc 
 tion whence came this symphony of vo 
 cal allurement. A handsome coupe, 
 with groom and footman, stood at the 
 curb. A woman in evening gown 
 leaned out. I stopped and stared. The 
 footman at the door touched his hat. I 
 gazed over my shoulder to see if any 
 one had come out of the club at the 
 same time that I had. I was alone. 
 
 "Hurry! I have waited at least half 
 an hour. We haven't a moment to 
 waste." 
 
 Some one in the upper rooms of the 
 no
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 club lifted a shade to open a window, 
 and the light illuminated her features. 
 She was young and very handsome. A 
 French wit once said that the whisper 
 of a beautiful woman can be heard 
 farther than the loudest call of duty. 
 Now, I honestly confess that if she had 
 been homely, or even moderately good- 
 looking, I should have politely ex 
 plained to her that she had made a 
 peculiar mistake. I was somebody else. 
 As it was, with scarce any hesitation I 
 stepped into the carriage, and the foot 
 man closed the door. To this day I can 
 not analyze the impulse that led me 
 into that carriage : Fate in the guise of 
 mischief, Destiny in motley and out for 
 a lark, I know not which, nor care, 
 in
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "I am sorry to have kept you wait 
 ing," said I. 
 
 "I thought you would never come," 
 she answered. 
 
 Thought I would never come? The 
 coupe started off at a rate likely to 
 bring us under the vigilant eyes of the 
 police. We pared the corner neatly 
 and swung into Broadway, going up 
 town. The theaters were emptying, 
 and here and there the way was choked 
 with struggling cabs; but our driver 
 knew his business, and we were never 
 'delayed more than a moment. Not 
 another word was spoken until we 
 reached Thirty-fourth Street. I was 
 silent because I had nothing to say. 
 
 "One after another they came out. I 
 112
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 thought you would never, never come. 
 I had all I could do to keep from go 
 ing into the club after you!" She tore 
 off her long, white gloves and flung 
 them (savagely, I thought) into her 
 lap. 
 
 Going into the club after me? Heav 
 ens! What a scandal I had escaped! 
 What the deuce was it all about, any 
 way? Who was I? What was expected 
 of me? My nerve lost a particle of its 
 strength, but I could not back out now. 
 It was too late. I was in for some sort 
 of excitement. I had always been skep 
 tical about mistaken identity. This was 
 to be my conversion. 
 
 "You will never forgive me, I know, 
 for waiting outside a club for you." 
 
 "3
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 She snuggled over to her side of the 
 carriage. 
 
 "Yes, I will!" I replied with alac 
 rity. Who wouldn't forgive her? I 
 moved closer. 
 
 The blue light of the arc-lamps 
 flashed into the window at frequent in 
 tervals. Each time I noted her face as 
 best I could. It was as beautifully cut 
 as a Cellini cameo, and as pale as ivory 
 under friction. You will laugh. "They 
 are always beautiful," you will say. 
 Well, who ever heard of a homely 
 woman going a-venturing? Besides, as 
 I remarked, it wouldn't have been an 
 adventure if she had been homely, for 
 I shouldn't have entered the carriage. 
 To be sure, I was proving myself a cad 
 114
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 for not enlightening her as to her error 
 in the matter of identification; but I 
 was human and young, and rather fond 
 of my Stevenson, and this had all the 
 charm and quality of the New Arabian 
 Nights. 
 
 "It is all so terrible I" Her voice was 
 tense; there was a note of agony in it 
 that was real. She was balling her 
 handkerchief, and I could see that her 
 fingers were long and white and with 
 out jewels, though I caught the inter 
 mittent glimmer of a fine necklace 
 circling an adorable throat. What a 
 fine chance for a rascal! 
 
 I wondered if she would have me 
 arrested when she found out? Was I 
 married, single, a brother, a near
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 friend? What the Heuce was her 
 trouble? Ought I to kiss her? My 
 double was a fortunate duffer. How I 
 envied him! 
 
 "Women are so silly sometimes. I 
 do not know why I was dragged into 
 this," she said. 
 
 Dragged into what? Had a crime 
 been committed, or had some one run 
 away with another man's wife? Heav 
 ens I we might be eloping and I not 
 know anything about it! I shivered, 
 not with fear, but with a strange ela 
 tion. 
 
 "How could I have done it? How 
 could I? Terrible!" 
 
 "It must be," I admitted readily. 
 No, a woman does not elope in her ball- 
 116
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 gown. Perhaps we were going after 
 the trunks. 
 
 "To think that he would force me 
 into a thing like this !" vehemently. 
 
 "I see that there is nothing left for 
 me to do but to punch his head." I 
 thought I was getting on famously. 
 
 She gave me a swift, curious glance. 
 
 "Oh, I am brave enough," said I. I 
 wondered if she had noticed that I was 
 a passably good-looking man, as men 
 
 go- 
 
 "What is done is done," wearily. 
 
 "Retrospection will do us no good." 
 "What do you wish me to do?" I 
 
 asked presently. 
 It was like writing a composite 
 
 novel, no one knowing what the other 
 117
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 chapters were about. I had already for 
 gotten that I had written a play which 
 was to be produced the following 
 night; I forgot everything but the po 
 tent charm of the mystery which sat 
 beside me and which I was determined 
 to unravel, as they say in detective 
 stories. 
 
 "What do you wish me to do?" I re 
 peated. 
 
 "I will tell you when the time comes. 
 For your own sake, be advised by me 
 and do nothing rash. You are so im 
 pulsive." 
 
 For my own sake do nothing rash : I 
 
 was so impulsive! My hand wandered 
 
 toward the door-latch, and fell. No! I 
 
 would stick it out, whatever happened. 
 
 118
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 "You are not afraid, are you?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "Afraid of what?" adroitly. 
 
 "I was right in waiting for you," 
 simply. 
 
 Maybe; that remained to be seen. 
 
 We crossed under the Sixth Avenue 
 "L," and the roar of a passing train 
 silenced us for a time. Who was I, any 
 way? Where were we going? Why 
 didn't she call me by some first name? 
 So far she hadn't. given me a clue to 
 anything. An idea came to me. 
 
 "Are you wise in taking me there 
 to-night?" I asked. This was very cun 
 ning of me. 
 
 She coughed slightly and peered 
 from the window. "Ten blocks more! 
 119
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 Oh, if only we dared go faster, faster, 
 and have it all over with I" 
 
 "A policeman would delay us no in 
 considerable time," I cautioned. "And 
 think of its being reported in the pa 
 pers! That wouldn't help matters. 
 They are bad enough as they are." 
 Doubtless they were I 
 
 She said nothing. 
 
 "Courage, courage!" I said; "all will 
 end well." At least I sincerely hoped 
 it would end well. I reached over and 
 touched her hand. She withdrew that 
 member of an exquisite anatomy as sud 
 denly as if my touch had stung her. 
 Once more I found myself in a maze. 
 Evidently, whoever I was, I did not 
 stand on such terms with her as to be 
 120
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 allowed the happiness of holding her 
 hand. And I had almost kissed her! 
 
 Then a horrible thought scorched 
 me. I had more than a thousand dol 
 lars in my wallet. I snuggled over to 
 my side of the carriage. The newspa 
 pers were teeming with stories of new 
 bunko-games, and this might be one of 
 the classics of getting-rich-quick on 
 other people's money. I slyly buttoned 
 up my coat. Anyhow, it was chilly. 
 
 On, on we rolled; light after light 
 flashed into the window, gloom fol 
 lowed gloom. 
 
 More than a thousand dollars was a 
 
 large sum for an author to be carrying 
 
 about; and if the exploit turned out to 
 
 be a police affair I might be seriously 
 
 121
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 questioned as to how an author came 
 by so large a sum. Yet, as I thought of 
 her necklace, I felt my cheeks grow red 
 with shame. It's so hard to doubt a 
 beautiful young woman! Still, the jew 
 els might not be real. There were many 
 false gems in New York, animate and 
 inanimate. If her jewels were genuine, 
 two years' royalties would not have 
 purchased the pear-shaped pearl pend 
 ant that gleamed at her throat. If she 
 was really an adventuress she was of a 
 new type, and worth studying from the 
 dramatist's point of view. Had she 
 really mistaken me? Quite accident 
 ally I touched her cloak. It was of 
 Persian lamb. Hang it, adventuresses 
 don't go around in Persian lamb: not 
 122
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 in New York. Ha! I had it. I would 
 find out what she was. 
 
 I leaned over quickly and kissed her 
 cheek. There was not a sound, only I 
 felt her shudder. She wiped with her 
 handkerchief the spot my lips had 
 touched. I was a cad and a wretch. 
 When she did speak her tones were 
 even and low. 
 
 "I did not quite believe that of you." 
 
 "I could not help it!" I declared, 
 ready to confess that I was an im 
 postor; and as I look back I know that 
 I told the truth when I said I could not 
 help it. I didn't care where the car 
 riage went, nor what the end would be. 
 
 "And I trusted you!" The reproach 
 was genuine. 
 
 123
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 I had nothing to say. My edifice of 
 suspicions had suddenly tumbled about 
 my ears. 
 
 "I am sorry; I have acted like a cad. 
 I am one," I said finally. 
 
 "I was helpless. One after another 
 the men we trust fail us," she answered 
 despondently. 
 
 "Madam, I am a wretch. I am not 
 the gentleman you have taken me for. 
 I have had the misfortune to resemble 
 another gentleman." 
 
 "I never saw you before in all my 
 life, nor any person that resembles 
 you." 
 
 I gasped. This was what the old 
 dramatists called a thunderbolt from 
 heaven. I felt for my wallet; it was 
 124
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 still in my pocket. Inconsistently, I 
 grew angry. 
 
 "Then, what the devil !" 
 
 "Do not add profanity to ill man 
 ners," she interposed. "Perhaps I have 
 no right to complain. There is the 
 door, sir; you have but to press the but 
 ton, stop the driver, and get out. I am 
 in a terribly embarrassing position to 
 night, one which my own folly has 
 brought me to. It was absolutely neces 
 sary that a gentleman should accom 
 pany me in this carriage to my destina 
 tion. When you came forth from your 
 club the only club the exact location 
 of which I am familiar with you ap 
 peared to be a gentleman, one I could 
 trust to accompany me. To attract your 
 125
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 attention, and at the same time arouse 
 your curiosity, I had to resort to equiv 
 ocal methods. It is an adventure, sir. 
 Will you see it to the end, or shall I 
 press the button?" She seemed really 
 in earnest. 
 
 "Permit me to ask a question or 
 two!" I was mightily confused at the 
 turn of things. 
 
 "Perfect confidence in me, or I shall 
 open the door." 
 
 "In any other city but New York " 
 
 "Yes or no !" imperiously. 
 
 "Hang it, madam!" 
 
 Her hand went toward the electric 
 button. 
 
 "To the end of the world, and no 
 questions asked." 
 
 126
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 Her hand dropped. "Thank you," 
 gently. 
 
 "Curiosity is something we can't 
 help ; otherwise I should not be here, 
 ass that I am! Chivalry isn't all dead. 
 If you are in trouble depend upon me; 
 only I must be back in New York by 
 to-morrow night." 
 
 "You will not leave the city. You 
 have no fear?" 
 
 "I should not be here else." 
 
 "Oh, but you must be imagining all 
 sorts of terrible things." 
 
 "I am doing some thinking, I'll ad 
 mit. How easily a woman can make a 
 fool of a man!" 
 
 "Sometimes." 
 
 "I am a shining example: How you 
 127
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 must have laughed at me! A pretty 
 woman has more power over a man's 
 destiny than all the signs of the Zodiac 
 put together. And it's perfectly natural 
 that he should want to kiss her. Isn't 
 it?" 
 
 "I am not a man." 
 
 "A saint would have tripped. Put 
 yourself in my place " 
 
 "Thank you; I am perfectly satis 
 fied." 
 
 "A beautiful woman asks me to en 
 ter her carriage " 
 
 "And, thinking that I had mistaken 
 you for some one I knew, you kissed 
 me!" derisively. 
 
 "I wished to learn where I stood in 
 your affections." 
 
 128
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 "A very interesting method of pro 
 cedure!" 
 
 "And when I touched your hand you 
 acted as if mine had stung you." 
 
 "It did." 
 
 "There's no getting around that," 
 resignedly. "Shall I tell you frankly 
 what, for an instant or two, I took you 
 to be?" 
 
 "If it will relieve your mind." 
 
 "Well, I believed you to be some 
 classic adventuress." 
 
 "And you are sure I am not?" 
 
 "Positive now. You see, I have con 
 siderable money on my person." 
 
 "Wouldn't it be wise for you to hand 
 it over to some policeman to keep for 
 you till to-morrow? Do not take any 
 129
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 unnecessary risks. You do not dream 
 into what I am leading you." 
 
 The carriage suddenly stopped. 
 
 "The journey is at an end," she said. 
 
 "So soon?" 
 
 A moment later the door opened, 
 and I stepped out to assist her to alight. 
 She waved me aside. We stood in front 
 of some millionaire's palace. It was 
 golden with illumination. Was it a 
 wedding and was I to be a witness? Or 
 was some one making his will? Per 
 haps it was only a ball or a reception. 
 I stopped my cogitations. What was 
 the use asking myself questions? I 
 should soon know all. 
 
 "Follow me," she said, as she lightly 
 mounted the steps. 
 
 130
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 I followed. . . . 'Here, in New 
 York, the most unromantic city in all 
 the wide world! I was suddenly seized 
 with nervousness and a partial failure 
 of the cardiac organs to perform their 
 usual functions. 
 
 She turned to me. "There is yet 
 time." 
 
 "Time for what?" 
 
 "Time to run." 
 
 "There was a moment. . . . Lead 
 on," quietly. I thought of the young 
 man with the cream tarts. 
 
 She touched a bell, and the door 
 was quickly opened, admitting us 
 into the hall. A servant took our be 
 longings. 
 
 "Dinner is served, miss," said the
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 servant, eying me curiously, even sus 
 piciously. 
 
 It appeared that I was to dine! 
 What the deuce did it all mean? A 
 dinner at supper-time ! A very distress 
 ing thought flashed through my mind. 
 Suppose she had known me all along, 
 and had lured me here to witness some 
 amateur performance. I shuddered. I 
 flattered myself. There was no amateur 
 performance, as presently you will see. 
 I followed her into the dining-room. 
 Fortunately, I was in evening dress. I 
 should at least be presentable, and as 
 cool as any man in the room. Comedy 
 or tragedy, or whatever it was going to 
 be, I determined to show that I had 
 good blood in my veins, even though 
 132
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 I had, to all appearances, been played 
 for a fool. 
 
 Around a table covered with ex 
 quisite linen, silver and glass sat a party 
 of elegantly dressed men and women. 
 At the sight of us the guests rose con 
 fusedly and made toward us with shouts 
 of laughter, inquiry and admiration. 
 They gathered round my companion 
 and plied her with a hundred ques 
 tions, occasionally stealing a glance at 
 me. I saw at once that I stood among 
 a party of ultra-smart people. Some 
 how I felt that I represented a part in 
 their mad pastimes. 
 
 "Where did you find him?" cried 
 one. 
 
 "Was it difficult?" asked another. 
 
 133
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "I'll wager he didn't need much urg 
 ing!" roared a gentleman with a rubi 
 cund nose. 
 
 "He is positively good-looking!" 
 said one woman, eying me boldly. 
 
 I bowed ironically, and she looked at 
 her neighbor as if to say: "Why, the 
 animal understands what I say!" 
 
 "My friends," said the girl, waving 
 her hand toward me, "I have paid my 
 detestable forfeit." Her tones did not 
 bespeak any particular enjoyment. 
 
 A wager! I stood alone, my face 
 burning with chagrin. I could feel my 
 ears growing, like the very ass that I 
 was. A wager! 
 
 "To table !" cried the gentleman with 
 the rubicund nose. Evidently he was 
 
 134
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 host. "We must have the story in full. 
 It certainly must be worth telling. The 
 girl has brought home a gentleman, 
 I'm hanged I" 
 
 The guests resumed their chairs 
 noisily. 
 
 The girl faced me, and for a space it 
 was a battle of the eyes. 
 
 "Will you do me the honor?" she 
 said half-mockingly, nodding toward 
 the only vacant chairs at the table. 
 
 "Would it not be wise for me to go 
 at once?" I asked quietly. 
 
 "If you do not sit at the table with 
 me, I lose. But please yourself," 
 wearily. "It has all been very distaste 
 ful to me." 
 
 "I shall stay to the bitter end. My 
 
 135
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 conceit and assurance need a drub 
 bing." I offered her my arm. All eyes 
 were centered on us. She hesitated. 
 "We might as well go through this or 
 deal in a proper spirit and manner," I 
 said. I rather believe I puzzled her. 
 
 She flushed slightly, but laid her 
 hand on my arm, and together we 
 walked over to the vacant chairs and 
 sat down. The laughter and hum of 
 voices ceased instantly. 
 
 In faith, I was becoming amused. 
 They were going to have their fun with 
 me ; well, two could play at that game. 
 
 136
 
 II 
 
 The host rose, and, leaning on his 
 finger-tips, he addressed me: "Sir, all 
 this doubtless strikes you as rather ex 
 traordinary." 
 
 "Very extraordinary," I replied. 
 
 "To dine under such circumstances 
 is not accorded to every man." 
 
 "To which do you refer: the honor 
 or the modus operandi?" 
 
 "Both. Now, an explanation is due 
 you." 
 
 "So I observe," gravely. 
 
 "The pleasure is mine. To begin 
 with, permit me to introduce you to my 
 guests." One by one he named them, 
 the ladies and gentlemen. I had heard 
 
 137
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 of them all. Money had made them 
 famous. "As for myself, I am Daniel 
 Ainsworth; this is my home. I dare 
 say you have heard of me." 
 
 "I have won money on your horses, 
 sir," with all the gravity of expres 
 sion I found possible to assume. 
 
 My remark was greeted with laugh 
 ter. 
 
 My host, composing his lips, re 
 sumed. "And now, sir, whom have I 
 the honor to address?" 
 
 "I am the author of many a famous 
 poem," tranquilly. 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 "Yes; anonymous. Sir, my name 
 would mean nothing to you or your 
 guests: I am poor." 
 
 138
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 There was a trace of admiration in 
 the girl's eyes as she turned her head. 
 "Besides," I went on, "I want a little 
 revenge." 
 
 "Good!" bawled my host; "good! 
 You're a man of kidney, sir. A gentle 
 man is always a gentleman; and I do 
 not need to look at you twice, sir, to 
 note that my niece's choice has been a 
 happy one." 
 
 "You have not introduced me to 
 your niece," said I, "who is, next to 
 myself, the most important guest at the 
 table." 
 
 "Hang me! The young lady at your 
 side is Miss Helen Berkeley, the best 
 horsewoman in the state, if I do say so 
 myself." 
 
 139
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 Great applause, as they say in the 
 press gallery. I looked squarely at the 
 girl, but she was idly busy turning her 
 empty wine-glass slowly round and 
 round. 
 
 "I appreciate the honor, sir," I said; 
 "but now will you favor me with the 
 modus operandi, or, to be particular, 
 the reason of all this mystery?" 
 
 "I approach that at once. This is 
 leap year, as you will recollect. On 
 January first I gave a leap-year party, 
 and in the spirit of fun each lady pres 
 ent declared her intention of bringing 
 to a series of late dinners a gentleman 
 whom none of us knew, either by sight 
 or by reputation. He was to be lured 
 into a carriage by some story or other, 
 140
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 and was not to know the true state of 
 things till he sat at the table. My niece 
 was the last on the list. Those who 
 backed down were to give a house- 
 party of a week's length. Women de 
 test house-parties, and that is the one 
 reason why this comedy has gone down 
 the line without a failure. This is the 
 eighth dinner. Each lady present has 
 fulfilled her obligation to the year. 
 We have had some curious specimens 
 of humanity: a barber, a mild lunatic, 
 a detective who thought he was on the 
 trail of some terrible crime, an actor, 
 a political reformer, and an English 
 groom who palmed himself off as a 
 lord. The actor and yourself, sir, are 
 the only men who seemed to possess any 
 141
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 knowledge of the various uses of din 
 ner forks." 
 
 "You haven't seen me eat yet," I in 
 terpolated. All this was highly amus 
 ing to me. I was less a victim than a 
 spectator. 
 
 "You will do us the honor of permit 
 ting us to criticize your knowledge of 
 the forks," laughed Ainsworth. "Now, 
 Nell, tell us how you lured Mr. Anony 
 mous into your carriage." 
 
 Very quietly she recounted the tale. 
 She omitted but one incident. 
 
 "In front of a club!" cried the ladies 
 in unison. "Why in the world didn't 
 we think of that?" 
 
 "Miss Berkeley has omitted one 
 thing," said I maliciously. 
 142
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 "An'd, pray, what?" aske'd Miss 
 Berkeley's uncle. 
 
 "Remember," she whispered, "you 
 are supposed to be a gentleman." 
 
 I took umbrage at the word "sup 
 posed." 
 
 "Miss Berkeley must tell you what 
 she has omitted in the course of her 
 narrative." 
 
 "And I refuse to tell." 
 
 "Hang it, Nell, I'll wager Mr. 
 Anonymous kissed you 1" cried her un 
 cle. 
 
 "Caught!" cried one of the ladies. 
 
 "Allow me a word," I interposed. I 
 was already sorry. "There was a 
 method in my action which must not be 
 misconstrued. I believed, for a mo- 
 
 H3
 
 ment, that Miss Berkeley might be a 
 new species of bunko-steerer. If she 
 objected noisily to my salute I should 
 find my case proved; if she cried, I was 
 wrong." 
 
 "And?" 
 
 "She did neither. She rubbed her 
 cheek." 
 
 "I'll warrant 1" my host bawled 
 noisily. "Oh, this is rich! A bunko- 
 steerer!" 
 
 "Miss Berkeley," I whispered, "we 
 are quits." 
 
 "Not yet," ominously. 
 
 It was almost time for me to go ! 
 
 "I was going to ask your pardon," 
 said the uncle in his hunter-voice; "but 
 I think you have been paid for your 
 144
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 trouble. Is there anything you would 
 like?" 
 
 "Three things, sir." 
 
 "And these?" he asked, while every 
 one looked curiously at me. I was still 
 an unknown quantity. 
 
 "My hat, my coat, and the way to the 
 door, for I presume you have no fur 
 ther use for me." 
 
 My reply appealed to the guests as 
 monstrous funny. It was some time ere 
 the laughter subsided. My host seemed 
 to be threatened with an attack of apo 
 plexy. 
 
 "My dear sir," said he, "I beg of you 
 to remain, not as a source for our mer 
 riment, but as the chief guest of honor. 
 I believe you have won that place."
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 I turned to Miss Berkeley. "Do you 
 bid me remain?" 
 
 Silence. 
 
 I placed my hand on the back of my 
 chair, preparatory to sliding it from 
 under me. She stayed me. 
 
 "Do not go," softly. "I haven't 
 had my revenge." 
 
 I sat down. I was curious to learn 
 what color this revenge was going to 
 take. "Mr. Ainsworth, my compli 
 ments!" raising my glass, being very 
 careful not to touch the contents. 
 
 "Bully!" cried my host, thumping 
 the table with his fist. "James, a dozen 
 bottles of '96. There's a gentleman," 
 nodding to those nearest him; "you can 
 tell 'em a mile off. A little shy of 
 146
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 strangers," humorously falling into 
 horse-talk, "but he's money coming 
 down the home-stretch." 
 
 Then everybody began to talk at 
 once, and I knew that the dinner 
 proper was on the way. 
 
 "Aren't you just a little above such 
 escapades as this?" I asked of the girl. 
 
 "Do not make me any more uncom 
 fortable than I am," she begged. "But 
 having gone into it I had too much 
 courage to back down." 
 
 "The true courage would have been 
 to give the house-party." 
 
 "But men always insist upon your 
 marrying them at house-parties." 
 
 *"! see I have much to learn," 
 meekly. "And the men are right." 
 
 H7
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "What an escape I have had!" 
 
 "Meaning house-parties, or that I 
 am a gentleman?" 
 
 "If you had not been a gentleman! 
 For, of course, you are, since my uncle 
 has so dubbed you. If you had not been 
 a gentleman!" 
 
 "If you had not been a lady! If you 
 had been a bunko-steerer! And I still 
 do not know that you are not one. Do 
 you believe me? I kept my hand on my 
 wallet pocket nearly all the time." 
 
 "I understood you to say that you 
 were poor." 
 
 "Oh, I mean that I am too poor to 
 hunt for excitement in bizarre things." 
 
 "Confess that you look upon me with 
 a frank contempt!" imperiously. 
 148
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 "Never!" 
 
 "That in your secret mind you write 
 me down a silly fool." 
 
 "Allow me to quote Dogberry 
 'Masters, remember that I am an ass; 
 though it be not written 'down, yet for 
 get not that I am an ass 1' Thus, I may 
 not call you a fool. Besides, it would 
 be very impolite." 
 
 "You neither eat nor drink. Why?" 
 
 "I demand to retain some of my self- 
 respect." 
 
 She leaned on her elbows, her chin 
 in her palms. She had wonderful eyes, 
 and for as long a time as a minute these 
 eyes impaled me on barbs of light. 
 "You must think us a pack of fools." 
 
 "Oh, indeed, no; only rich." 
 149
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "That is almost an epigram," 
 warningly. "You will lead me to be 
 lieve that you belong to smart society 
 in some provincial town." 
 
 "Heaven forfend!" earnestly. 
 
 "But speak all the thought. Nothing 
 prevents truth from either of us to 
 night." 
 
 "All of what thought?" 
 
 '"We are not fools, only rich." 
 
 "Well, I lower the bucket, then ; and 
 if I can bring truth to the top of the 
 well you will promise not to blush on 
 beholding her?" 
 
 "I promise." 
 
 "It is maddening and unhealthy to 
 be rich and idle. The rich and idle do 
 such impossible things in the wild ef- 
 150
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 fort to pass away the dragging hours. 
 Society is not made up of fools : rather 
 knaves and madmen. Money and idle 
 ness result in a mild attack of insanity." 
 
 "Thanks." 
 
 "You are welcome. Shall I lower 
 truth along with the butter of flattery?" 
 
 "You may lower the butter of flat 
 tery. So that is how the great public 
 looks upon us?" 
 
 "Yes, in a way; while it envies you." 
 
 "I have always been rich. What is 
 poverty like?" 
 
 "It is comparative." 
 
 "It must be horrid." 
 
 "Poverty is ugly only when man 
 himself is the cause of it." 
 
 "Another epigram. I have always
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 been under my uncle's care," with the 
 slightest droop of the lips. 
 
 "Ah! His knowledge begins at the 
 table and ends at the stable: vintages 
 and horses. If a woman had crossed his 
 path he would have been a great man." 
 
 "Poor Uncle Dan! To him I am his 
 favorite filly, and he has put huge sums 
 on me to win the ducal race. Every 
 body says that I'm to marry the Duke 
 of Roxclift." 
 
 "And you?" I do not know why my 
 heart sank a little as I hesitatingly put 
 this question. 
 
 "I? Oh, I'm going to balk at the 
 quarter and throw the race. To-night, 
 what would you have done in my 
 place?" 
 
 152
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 "Hailed a gentleman exactly like 
 myself." 
 
 She dallied with a rose, brushing it 
 across her lips. "I do not know why I 
 desire your good opinion. Perhaps it's 
 the novelty of sitting beside a man who 
 does not believe in flattery." 
 
 "Flattery is a truth that is not true. I 
 think you are charming, beautiful, en 
 gaging, enchanting, mystifying. I can 
 think of no other adjectives." 
 
 "If flattery is a truth that is not true, 
 then all your pretty adjectives mean 
 nothing." 
 
 "Oh, but I do not flatter you. Men 
 flatter homely women homely women 
 who are rich and easily hoodwinked. 
 What I have offered you in the line of 
 
 '53
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT ; 
 
 decorative adjectives your mirror has 
 already told you time and time again. 
 Had I said that you are witty, schol 
 arly, scientific, vastly and highly intel 
 lectual, not knowing you any better 
 than I do, that would have been flat 
 tery. Do you grasp the point?" 
 
 "Nebulously. You are trying to say 
 something nice." 
 
 "We are getting on capitally. When 
 I left the club to-night the wildest 
 stretch of my fancy would not have 
 placed me here beside you." 
 
 "Yes," irrelevantly, "most of us are 
 mad. Everything is so terribly monot 
 
 onous." 
 
 "To-night?" 
 "Well, not to-night." 
 
 154
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 "You have not yet asked me who I 
 am." 
 
 "Then you are somebody?" drolly. 
 She contemplated me, speculatively as 
 it were. 
 
 I laughed. This was the most amus 
 ing and enchanting adventure I had 
 ever had the luck to fall into. "The 
 world thinks so," I replied to her ques 
 tion. 
 
 "The world? What world?" 
 
 "My world . . . and a part of 
 yours." 
 
 "Are you one of those men who ac 
 complish something besides novel din 
 ners?" 
 
 "So I am led to believe." 
 
 "In what way?" 
 
 155
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "Ah, but that is a secret." 
 
 She shrugged. Evidently she was in 
 credulous. "Are you an actor?" sud 
 denly recollecting where she had 
 picked me up. 
 
 "Only in 'All the world's a stage.' " 
 
 "I will ask you : Will you do me the 
 honor of telling me who you are?" 
 
 "My self-respect denies me that 
 pleasure." 
 
 "Fiddlesticks!" This was very hu 
 man. 
 
 "Is it possible that I am interesting 
 you ?" surprised. 
 
 "You are a clever man, whoever and 
 whatever you are. Where did you 
 learn to read a woman so readily? 
 Who told you that when you confront 
 
 156
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 a woman with a mystery you trap her 
 interest along with her curiosity? Yes, 
 you are clever. If you told me your 
 name and your occupation I dare say 
 I should straightway become bored." 
 
 "Truth still shivers on the well's 
 edge." 
 
 She nibbled the rose-leaves. 
 
 "Does your interest in episodes like 
 to-night always die so suddenly?" 
 nodding toward the others, who had 
 long since ceased to pay me any par 
 ticular attention. 
 
 "Nearly always." 
 
 "Very well; since they have forgot 
 ten us let us forget them." I leaned to 
 ward her, my voice was not so steady 
 as it should have been. "In what man- 
 
 157
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 ner would it benefit me to tell you my 
 name and what my occupation in the 
 great world is? Would it put me on 
 the list of your acquaintances?" 
 
 She eyed me thoughtfully. "That 
 depends." 
 
 "Upon what?" 
 
 "Whether you were worth knowing. 
 I addressed other gentlemen in front of 
 your club. They politely said I had 
 made a mistake." 
 
 "They were old or married." 
 
 "That wasn't it." 
 
 "Then they didn't see you in the 
 light, as I did." 
 
 "What difference would that have 
 made?" 
 
 "All the "difference in the world.
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 But you have tabooed flattery. I see 
 that I should have been a barber, a 
 mild lunatic, or a detective." 
 
 "You would have been easier to dis 
 pose of." 
 
 I directed my gaze toward the door, 
 and she surrendered a smile. 
 
 "You might be worth knowing," 
 musingly. 
 
 "I promise to be." 
 
 "I shall give it thought. I should 
 never forgive myself if I were the in 
 direct cause of your joining this car 
 nival of fools." 
 
 "I see that I shall last much longer 
 in your thoughts as the Unknown," 
 reflectively. 
 
 "Eat," she commanded. 
 
 159
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "I am not hungry; I have dined." 
 
 "Drink, then." 
 
 "I am not thirsty." 
 
 She took my glass and poured the 
 contents into hers, then handed it to 
 me. "Now I" she said. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 ""You make me think of Monte 
 Cristo: what terrible revenge are you 
 going to take?" 
 
 "It will be upon myself: that of 
 never forgetting you." 
 
 "One single sip I" 
 
 I accepted the glass and took one sip. 
 "Now I have lost what I desired to re 
 tain my respect. So long as I touched 
 nothing at this table I held the advan 
 tage. My name is " 
 1 60
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 She put her hands over her ears. 
 "Don't!" 
 
 "Very well: the woman tempted 
 me." 
 
 "Haven't you a better epigram?" 
 
 "Perhaps I am saving them." 
 
 "For what?" 
 
 "Who knows that I am not writing a 
 play?" 
 
 "I live here; a card will find me on 
 Thursdays after four." 
 
 "I shall come Wednesdays, thereby 
 saving you the trouble." 
 
 "That is not wit; it is rudeness. Do 
 not come either Thursdays or Wednes 
 days." 
 
 "How shall you know who it is?" 
 
 "Trust a woman." 
 161
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "Ah, here comes the butler with the 
 liqueurs. I am glad. Presently I 
 should be making love to you; now I 
 am about to be free." 
 
 "Are you quite sure?" with a pene 
 trating glance. I believe she knew the 
 power of her beauty. 
 
 "Well, I shall be free to go home 
 where I belong," compromising. 
 
 And I rose. Perhaps the drollest 
 episode of the dinner took place as I 
 started for the door. 
 
 "Ever heard of Starlight?" cried 
 Uncle Daniel down the room. "No? 
 jWell, she's down on the winter books at 
 fifty to one. Stack your money on her 
 now; it's a hunch." 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 162
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 "Good night," said I to the girl, 
 bowing. 
 
 "Good night," smiling. 
 
 I wonder if she knew that I had 
 stolen the rose? On the way home my 
 mind returned to my play. Had the 
 fourth act gone off as smoothly as the 
 others? 
 
 What a girl for a man I 
 
 The curtain fell on the first act, and 
 the thrilling sound of beating hands 
 came to me dimly. 
 
 "They are calling for you," said 
 Shaw excitedly. 
 
 "What am I to do?" nervously. 
 
 "What? Haven't you thought out 
 something to say?" disgustedly. 
 163
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "Nary a word!" 
 
 "Well, just lead out Miss Blank and 
 bow. You're not an old hand ; they will 
 let you off without a speech." 
 
 So I led the young woman who had 
 helped to make me famous to the foot 
 lights, and bowed. I do not know what 
 caused me to glance toward the left up 
 per proscenium, but I did . . . and 
 felt my heart stop and then throb vio 
 lently. It was Miss Berkeley. Heaven 
 only knows how long I should have 
 stared at her but for the warning pres 
 sure of the actress' hand over mine. 
 We disappeared behind the curtain. I 
 was confused by many emotions. 
 
 While the hands were shifting about 
 the next "set" a boy handed me the 
 164
 
 A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 
 
 crumpled margin of a program. I un 
 folded it and read: "Will 'Mr. An 
 onymous' do Miss Berkeley the honor 
 of visiting her box?" 
 
 "Mr. Anonymous" presented him 
 self forthwith. Miss Berkeley was 
 with an elderly woman, who proved to 
 be her grandaunt. I was introduced. 
 
 "Aunty, this is the gentleman I told 
 you about. Isn't it terrible?" 
 
 "Terrible? I should call it wholly 
 enchanting. Sir, you will pardon the 
 child for her wildness. My nephew 
 doesn't know as much as his celebrated 
 horses. Now, go ahead and talk while 
 I look over the audience." 
 
 If only all elderly ladies were as 
 thoughtful ! 
 
 165
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "And I have read your books ; I have 
 witnessed your play!" Miss Berkeley 
 said. 
 
 "Thursday, after four?" 
 
 "No. Everybody calls then. Come 
 Wednesday." 
 
 "I have a confession to make," said 
 I. "You dropped a rose on the floor 
 last night. I stole it. Must I return it 
 to you?" 
 
 "I never do anything without a pur 
 pose," was all she said. 
 
 So I kept the rose. 
 
 166
 
 NO CINDERELLA 
 
 ""E /TAD AM, have you lost a slip- 
 1V1 per?" I asked politely. I held 
 toward her a dainty shoe that might 
 very well have appareled the foot of 
 Venus; only one can not quite lift the 
 imagination to the point of picturing 
 Venus rising out of the Cyprian wave 
 in a pair of ball-room slippers. 
 
 "I am not yet addressed as madam," 
 said she, calmly drawing her skirts 
 about her feet, which were already se 
 curely hidden. 
 
 167
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "Not yet? Ah, that is very fortunate, 
 indeed. I see I am not too late." 
 
 "Sir!" 
 
 But I saw no anger on her face. 
 There was, however, a mixture of 
 amusement, hauteur (that darling 
 word of the lady novelists!) and ob 
 jection. She hadn't the least idea who I 
 was, and I was not going to tell her for 
 some time, to come. I was a prodigal, 
 with a few new ideas. 
 
 "I meant nothing more serious than 
 that you might happen to be Cinder 
 ella," said I. "What in the world 
 should I do with Cinderella's slipper, 
 once she was safely married to the 
 prince?" 
 
 She swayed her fan indolently, but 
 168
 
 NO CINDERELLA 
 
 made no effort to rise. I looked on this 
 as rather encouraging. 
 
 "It would be somewhat embarrassing 
 to ask a married woman if she were 
 Cinderella," I proceeded. 
 
 "I should not particularize," she ob 
 served; "married or single, it would be 
 embarrassing." 
 
 She was charming; a Watteau shep 
 herdess in a fashionable ball-gown. 
 We were all alone in the nook at the 
 farther end of the conservatory; and 
 I was glad. Her eyes were brown, with 
 a glint of gold around the pupils, a 
 kaleidoscopic iris, as it were. She pos 
 sessed one of those adorable chins that 
 defy the future to double them; smooth 
 and round, such as a man delights to 
 169
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 curve his palm under; and I might 
 search the several languages I know to 
 describe fitly her red mouth. Her hair 
 was the color of a fallen maple-leaf, a 
 rich, soft, warm October brown, 
 streaked with red. Patience ! You may 
 laugh, but, for my part, give me a dash 
 of red above the alabaster brow of a 
 pretty woman. It is a mute language 
 which speaks of a sparkling intellect; 
 and whenever I seek the exhilaration 
 that rises from a witty conflict, I find 
 me a woman with a glimmer of red in 
 her hair. 
 
 "Well, sir?" said she, breaking in on 
 my train of specific adjectives. 
 
 "Pardon me I I was thinking how I 
 should describe you were I a success- 
 170
 
 NO CINDERELLA 
 
 ful novelist, which I declare with no 
 little regret, I am not." 
 
 "You certainly have all the assur 
 ance of a writer of books, to speak to 
 me in this manner." 
 
 "My assurance is based wholly on 
 the possession of a truant slipper. I am 
 bold; but the end justifies the means," 
 having in mind her foot. 
 
 Her shoulders drew together and 
 fell. 
 
 "I am searching for the Cinderella 
 who has lost a slipper; and I am go 
 ing to call you Cinderella till I have 
 proof that you are not she whom I 
 seek." 
 
 "It is very kind of you," she replied, 
 with a hint of sunshine struggling at 
 171
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 the corners of her lips. "Have I ever 
 met you before?" puzzling her 
 arched brows. 
 
 "Memory does not follow reincarna 
 tion," I answered owlishly; "but I dare 
 say that I often met you at the Temple 
 of Venus in the old, old days." 
 
 She appeared slightly interested. 
 
 "What, may I ask, was your business 
 in the old, old days?" 
 
 "I played the cithern." 
 
 "And I?" 
 
 "I believe you distributed flowers." 
 
 "Do you know the hostess?" with 
 solemn eyes. 
 
 "Oh, yes; though she hasn't the 
 slightest recollection of me. But that's 
 perfectly natural. At affairs like this 
 172
 
 NO CINDERELLA 
 
 the hostess recalls familiarly to her 
 mind only those who sat at her dinner- 
 table earlier in the evening. All other 
 invitations are simply paid obliga 
 tions." 
 
 "You possess some discernment, at 
 least." 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 "But I wish I knew precisely what 
 you are about," her eyes growing 
 critical in their examination. 
 
 "I am seeking Cinderella," once 
 more holding out the slipper. Then I 
 looked at my watch. "It is not yet 
 twelve o'clock." 
 
 "You are, of course, a guest here," 
 ruminating, "else you could not have 
 passed the footman at the door." 
 
 173
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "Mark my attire ; or, candidly, do I 
 look like a footman?" 
 
 "No-o ; I can't say that you do ; but 
 in Cinderella, don't you know, the foot 
 man carried the slipper." 
 
 "Oh, I'm the prince," I explained 
 easily; "I dismissed the footman at the 
 door." 
 
 "Cinderella," she mused. She nes 
 tled her feet, and looked thoughtfully 
 at her delicate hands. I could see she 
 was at that instant recalling the picture 
 of Cinderella and the ash-heap. 
 
 "What was the prince's name?" 
 
 "In this case it is just a prince of 
 good fellows." 
 
 "I should like some witnesses." She 
 gazed at me curiously, but there was no 
 
 174
 
 distrust in her limpid eye, as clear and 
 moteless as Widow Wadman's. 
 
 "Isn't it fine," I cried with" a burst 
 of confidence, "to possess the courage 
 to speak to strangers?" 
 
 "It is equally courageous to listen," 
 was the retort. 
 
 "I knew I should like you!" with 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 She stirred uneasily. It might have 
 been that her foot had suddenly grown 
 chilled. A storm was whirling outside, 
 and the pale, shadowy flakes of snow 
 brushed the windows. 
 
 I approached her, held up the slip 
 per and contemplated it with wrinkled 
 brow. She watched me covertly. What 
 a slipper! So small and dainty was it, 
 
 175
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 so light and airy, that had I suddenly 
 withdrawn my hand I verily believe it 
 would have floated. It was part satin 
 and part skin, and the light, striking 
 the inner side of it, permeated it with 
 a faint, rosy glow. 
 
 "What a darling thing it is!" un 
 able to repress my honest admiration. 
 "Light as one of those snowflakes out 
 yonder in the night. What a proud 
 arch the instep has! Ah, but it is a 
 high-bred shoe, fit to tread on the heart 
 of any man. Lovely atom !" 
 She stirred again. I went on : 
 "It might really belong to a princess, 
 but only in a fairy-book; for all the 
 princesses I have ever seen couldn't put 
 a hand in a shoe like this, much less a 
 176
 
 foot. And when I declare to you, on 
 my honor, that I have met various 
 princesses in my time, you will appre 
 ciate the compliment I pay to Cinder 
 ella." 
 
 The smile on her lips wavered and 
 trembled, like a puff of wind on placid 
 water, and was gone. 
 
 "Leave it," she said, melting, "and 
 be gone." 
 
 "I couldn't. It wouldn't be gallant 
 at all, don't you know. The prince 
 himself put the slipper on Cinderella." 
 
 "But this is a modern instance, and a 
 prosaic world. Men are no longer gal 
 lants, but business men or club gossips ; 
 and you do not look like a business 
 
 man." 
 
 177
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "I never belonged to a club in my 
 life." 
 
 "You "do not look quite so unpopular 
 as all that." 
 
 A witty woman! To be pretty and 
 witty at the same time the gifts of 
 Minerva and Venus in lavishment! 
 
 "Besides, it is all very improper," 
 she added. 
 
 "The shoe?" I cried. 
 
 "No; the shoe is proper enough," 
 musingly. 
 
 "You admit it, then!" joyfully. 
 
 "I refer to the dialogue between two 
 persons who have not been intro 
 duced." 
 
 "Convention! Formality! Detest 
 able things, always setting Romance at
 
 arm's length, and making Truth desire 
 to wear fashionable clothes." 
 
 ""Nevertheless, this is improper," 
 she repeated. 
 
 "Why, it doesn't matter at all," I 
 said negligently. "We both have been 
 invited to this house to dance ; that is to 
 say, our hostess would not invite any 
 objectionable persons. What you mean 
 to say is, unconventional. And I hate 
 convention and formality." 
 
 "Are you a poet, then?" with good- 
 natured derision. 
 
 "Oh, no ; I have an earning capacity 
 and a pleasant income." 
 
 She really laughed this time; and I 
 vaguely recalled pearls and coral and 
 murmuring brooks. 
 179
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "Won't you please "do that again?" I 
 asked eagerly. 
 
 But there must have been something 
 in my gaze that frightened Mirth 
 away, for she frowned. 
 
 Faintly came the music from the 
 ball-room. They were playing the 
 waltzes from The Queen's Lace Hand 
 kerchief. The agony of an extempori 
 zation seized me. 
 
 "Strauss!" I cried, flourishing the 
 slipper. "The blue Danube, the moon 
 shine on the water, the tittle-tattle of 
 the leaves, a man and woman all, all 
 alone! Romance, love, off to the 
 wars! ..." 
 
 "It is a far cry to Cinderella," she in 
 terrupted. 
 
 1 80
 
 NO CINDERELLA 
 
 "Ah, yes. Music moves me so 
 easily." 
 
 "Indeed I It is scarcely noticeable," 
 slyly. 
 
 "Are you Cinderella, then?" 
 
 "I do not say so." 
 
 "Will you dance with me to prove 
 it one way or the other?" 
 
 "Certainly not," rather indig 
 nantly. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "There are any number of reasons," 
 she replied. 
 
 "Name just one." 
 
 "I do not know you." 
 
 "You ought to," with a double 
 meaning which went for absolutely 
 nothing. 
 
 181
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "My angle of vision obscures that 
 idea." 
 
 "If you will stand up . . . " I hesi 
 tatingly suggested. 
 
 "I am perfectly comfortable where 
 I am," with an oblique glance at the 
 doorway. 
 
 "I am convinced that you are the 
 Cinderella; I can not figure it out 
 otherwise." 
 
 "Do not figure at all; simply leave 
 the shoe." 
 
 "It is too near twelve o'clock for 
 that. Besides, I wish to demolish the 
 pumpkin theory. It's all tommy-rot 
 about changing pumpkins into chari 
 ots, unless you happen to be a success 
 ful pie-merchant." 
 
 182
 
 NO CINDERELLA 
 
 'She bit her lips an'd tapped her 
 cheek with the fan. (Did I mention 
 the bloomy cheeks?) 
 
 "Perhaps I am only one of Cinder 
 ella's elder sisters." 
 
 "That would be very unfortunate. 
 You will recollect that the elder sisters 
 cut off their" 
 
 "Good gracious!" 
 
 "Cut off their toes in the mad effort 
 to capture the prince," I continued. 
 
 "But I am not trying to capture any 
 prince, not even a fairy prince; and I 
 wouldn't " 
 
 "Cut off your toes?" I suggested 
 questioningly. 
 
 "Prolong this questionable conversa 
 tion, only " 
 
 183
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "You can not stop it till you have the 
 shoe," I said. 
 
 "Only," she went on determinedly, 
 "I am so comfortable here that I do not 
 care to return to the ball-room just at 
 present." 
 
 "I never expected such a full com 
 pliment;" and I made her my most en 
 gaging bow. 
 
 "I am afraid you will have to cut off 
 your toes to get into that shoe," ma 
 liciously. 
 
 "I could expect no less than that 
 from you. You keep coming closer to 
 my ideal every moment." 
 
 She shrugged disdainfully and as 
 sumed a bored expression that did not 
 deceive me in the least. 
 184
 
 NO CINDERELLA 
 
 "Since you are so determined to con 
 tinue this dialogue, go and fetch some 
 one you know. An introduction is ab 
 solutely necessary." She seemed im 
 movable on this point. 
 
 "And the moment I turned my back 
 presto! away would go Cinderella, 
 and I should be in the dark as much as 
 ever regarding the pumpkins. No, I 
 thank you. Be good, and confess that 
 you are Cinderella." 
 
 "Sir, this really ceases to be amus 
 ing." Her fan closed with a snap. 
 
 "It was serious the moment I entered 
 and saw you," I replied frankly. 
 
 "I ought to be annoyed excessively. 
 You are a total stranger; I declare that 
 I never saw you before in all my life.
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 It is true that we are guests in the same 
 house, but that does not give privilege 
 to this particular annoyance. Here I 
 am, talking to you as if it were dis 
 tinctly proper." 
 
 "I can not say that you have put your 
 foot in it yet," having recourse to the 
 slipper again. I was having a fine time. 
 
 She smiled in spite of the anger 
 which sparkled in her eyes. Of course, 
 if she became downright angry I 
 should tell who I was, only it would 
 spoil everything. 
 
 "And you do not know me?" I said 
 dejectedly. "Do you mean to tell me 
 that you have never dreamed of any 
 Prince Charming?" 
 
 "I can not say I have," icily. 
 1 86
 
 JSTO CINDERELLA 
 
 A flock of young persons came in 
 noisily, but happily they contented 
 themselves with the bowl of lemon- 
 punch at the other end of the conserva 
 tory. 
 
 I sat down in the Roman chair which 
 stood at the side of the window-seat. I 
 balanced the slipper on the palm of my 
 hand. Funny, isn't it, how much a 
 woman will put up with rather than 
 walk about in her stockings. And I 
 wasn't even sure that she had lost a 
 slipper! I wondered, too, where all 
 her dancing partners were. 
 
 "You say you do not know me," I be 
 gan. "Let me see," narrowing my 
 eyes as one does who attempts to recall 
 a dim and shadowy past. "Didn't you
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 wear your hair in two plaits down your 
 back?" 
 
 "That is regular; it is still the cus 
 tom ; it proves nothing." 
 
 "Let me recall a rambling old gar 
 ret where we used to hold wonderful 
 shows." 
 
 Her fan opened again, and the ten 
 drils at her temples moved gently. 
 
 "Once we played the Sleeping 
 Beauty, and you said that I should al 
 ways be Prince Charming. How easily 
 we forget!" 
 
 She inclined forward a bit. There 
 were signs of reviving interest. She 
 began to scrutinize me; hitherto she 
 had surveyed and examined me. 
 
 "Once" 
 
 188
 
 NO CINDERELLA 
 
 "Say 'Once upon a time'; all fairy 
 stories begin that way." 
 
 "Thank you; I stand corrected. 
 Well, once upon a time you fell down 
 these same garret stairs ; and if you will 
 lift that beautiful lock of hair from 
 your right temple I shall see a scar. I 
 am sure of your identity." 
 
 Unconsciously her hand strayed to 
 her temple, and dropped. 
 
 "Whoever you are, you seem ac 
 quainted with certain youthful adven 
 tures. But some one might have told 
 you these things, thinking to annoy 
 me." Then the light in her eyes grew 
 dim with the struggle of retrospection, 
 the effort to pierce the veil of absent 
 years, and to place me among the use- 
 189
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 less, forgotten things of youth, or 
 rather childhood. "No, I can not place 
 you. Please tell me who you are, if I 
 have ever known you." 
 
 "Not just now. Mystery arouses a 
 woman's curiosity, and I frankly con 
 fess that I wish to arouse yours. You 
 are nearly, if not quite, twenty-four." 
 
 "One does not win a woman's inter 
 est by telling her her age." 
 
 "But I add that you do not look it." 
 
 "That is better. Now, let me see the 
 slipper," holding out her hand. 
 
 "To no one but Cinderella. I'd be a 
 nice prince, wouldn't I, to surrender 
 the slipper without finding Cinder 
 ella!" 
 
 "In these days no woman would per- 
 190
 
 NO CINDERELLA 
 
 mit you to put on her slipper, unless 
 you were her husband or her brother." 
 
 "No? Then I have a much per 
 verted idea of society." 
 
 "And," passing over my remark, 
 "she would rather sit in a corner all the 
 evening." 
 
 "But think of the fun you are miss- 
 ing!" 
 
 "To be frank with you, I am not 
 missing very much fun. I was at a 
 dance last night, and the novelty be 
 gins to pall." 
 
 "At least, then, you will admit that 
 I have proved a diversion." 
 
 "It will cost me nothing to admit 
 that; but I think you are rude not to 
 tell me right away who you are." 
 191
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 She looked out of the blurred win 
 dows. Her profile was beautiful to 
 contemplate, and perhaps she knew it. 
 
 "Why don't you seek a footman," she 
 asked, after a pause, "and have him 
 announce that you have found a slip 
 per?" 
 
 "Have you no more regard for ro 
 mance than that?" 
 
 "You said that I was twenty-four 
 years old. I have less regard for ro 
 mance than for propriety." 
 
 "There you go again, battening 
 down the hatches of convention! I am 
 becoming discouraged." 
 
 "Is it possible? I have long since 
 been." 
 
 She had always been a match for me. 
 192
 
 NO CINDERELLA 
 
 Enter upon the scene (as they say in 
 the play-books) a flurried partner, 
 rather young and tender to be thrown 
 in company with twenty-four years of 
 sparkling femininity. Well, that was 
 his affair; I didn't propose to warn 
 him. 
 
 "Oh, here you are !" he cried, bright 
 ening. "I've been looking for you 
 everywhere," making believe that 
 something was the matter with his 
 gloves. 
 
 "Do you know this gentleman?" she 
 asked quietly, pointing to me with her 
 fan. 
 
 I felt a nervous tremor. I wondered 
 if she had been waiting for a moment 
 like this. 
 
 193
 
 The young fellow held out his hand ; 
 his smile was pleasant and inquiring. 
 
 "Wait a moment," she interrupted 
 wickedly. "I am not introducing you. 
 I am simply asking you if you know 
 him." 
 
 Wasn't this a capital revenge? 
 
 "I ... I can't say that I ever saw 
 the gentleman before," he stammered, 
 mightily bewildered. Then all at once 
 his face grew red with anger. He even 
 balled his fists. "Has he dared " 
 
 "No, no! I only wished to know if 
 you knew him. Since you do not there 
 is nothing more to be done about it." 
 
 "But if he has insulted " 
 
 "Sh! That's not a nice word to hear 
 in a conservatory," she warned. 
 194
 
 "But I do not understand." 
 
 "It is not necessary. If you do not 
 take me instantly to the ball-room you 
 will lose the best part of the dance." 
 
 She rose, and then I saw two little 
 blue slippers peeping out from under 
 the silken skirts. 
 
 "You might have told me," I said re 
 proachfully. "And now I do not be 
 lieve any other Cinderella will do. 
 Young man," said I, holding out the 
 slipper for his inspection, "I was just 
 paying this lady the very great compli 
 ment of thinking that this might be her 
 shoe." 
 
 "And it isn't," she returned. "Now, 
 in honor to yourself, what is my 
 name?" 
 
 195
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "You are Nancy Marsden." 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 "Your humble servant," bending. 
 
 "I shall soon find out." 
 
 "It is quite possible." 
 
 And then, with a hand on her escort's 
 arm, she laughed, and walked (or 
 should I say glided? It seems a sacri 
 lege to say that so enchanting a creature 
 walked) out of the conservatory, leav 
 ing me gazing ruefully and mournfully 
 at the little white slipper in my hand. 
 
 Now, where in the world was Cin 
 derella? 
 
 196
 
 II 
 
 I thrust the slipper into the tail of 
 my coat, and strolled over to the mar 
 ble bench which partly encircled the 
 fountain. The tinkle of the falling 
 water made a pleasant sound. Ten 
 years! I had been away ten years. 
 How quickly youth vanishes down the 
 glimmering track of time ! Here I was 
 at thirty, rather old, too, for that num 
 ber; and here was that pretty girl of 
 fourteen grown into womanhood, a 
 womanhood that would have stirred 
 the pulses of many a man less suscepti 
 ble than myself. That she was unmar 
 ried somehow made me glad, though 
 197
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 why I can not say, unless it be that 
 vanity survives everything. 
 
 I had been violently in love with 
 her; at that time she hadn't quite 
 turned six. Then I had lorded it over 
 her tender eighth year, and from the 
 serene height of twenty I had looked 
 down upon her fourteen in a fatherly, 
 patronizing fashion. As I recalled her 
 new glory the truth came upon me that 
 she was like to pay me back with inter 
 est for all the snubs I had given her. 
 
 Off to 'Heidelberg and Bonn and 
 Berlin! Student days! Heigh-ho! Ten 
 years is a long time. I might still have 
 been an alien, an exile, but for my un 
 cle's death and that the lonely aunt 
 wanted a man about. (Not that I was 
 198
 
 NO CINDERELLA: 
 
 much of a man to have about.) In all 
 these ten years I had not once visited 
 my native land, scandalous as it may 
 seem; but I had always celebrated the 
 Fourth of July in my garden, cele 
 brated it religiously, too, and followed 
 the general elections. 
 
 All these people (or nearly all of 
 them) I had known in my youth; and 
 now not one of them recognized me. 
 There was a pang in this knowledge. 
 No one likes to be completely forgot 
 ten, save the absconding bank-clerk 
 and the defeated candidate. I had 
 made no effort to recall myself to those 
 I met. My hostess thoughtlessly sup 
 posed that I should take on myself the 
 labor of renewing acquaintance; but I 
 199
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 found this rather impossible. Every 
 thing was changed, the people and the 
 city; the one had added to its height 
 and the other to its girth. So I simply 
 wandered about the familiar rooms 
 summoning up the pleasant ghosts of 
 bygone days. Then came the slipper 
 episode and Nancy! 
 
 Home again! No more should the 
 sea call, nor the sky, nor the hills ; I was 
 home again, for ever and for ever, so I 
 hoped. 
 
 And then I glanced up from my 
 reverie to behold a woman, fair, fat 
 and forty-eight, seat herself breath 
 lessly on the far end of the bench. I 
 recognized her instantly: she had been 
 one of the salient features of my child- 
 200
 
 NO CINDERELLA 
 
 hood, only a little further removed 
 than my mother herself. She was florid 
 in her October years ; twenty years ago 
 she had been plump and pretty; now 
 she was only pretty plump. But a rol 
 licking soul beamed from her kindly 
 eyes. So I bethought me of the slipper, 
 dragged it forth, rose and approached. 
 
 "Madam," said I gravely, "are you 
 Cinderella?" 
 
 She balanced her lorgnette and 
 stared, first at the slipper, then at me. 
 
 "Young man, don't be silly. Do I 
 look like a woman who could wear a 
 little thing like that? Run along with 
 you, and don't make fun of poor old 
 women. If there is any Cinderella 
 around here I'm only her godmother." 
 201
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 For a moment I stood abashed. 
 Here was one who had outlived van 
 ity, or at least had discovered its worth- 
 lessness. 
 
 "Have you no vanity, madam?" I 
 asked solemnly. 
 
 "If I have it has ceased to protrude. 
 Go and give the slipper to a footman, 
 and don't keep some girl hopping 
 around on one foot." 
 
 I was almost tempted to tell her who 
 I was. 
 
 "Madam, there was a time" I be 
 gan. 
 
 "Oh, yes; thirty years ago I might 
 have claimed the slipper; I might even 
 have worn it," complacently. 
 
 "Please permit me to conclude : there 
 202
 
 NO CINDERELLA 
 
 was a time when you held me on your 
 knees." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "It is indeed so." 
 
 "Confess, then, that you were prop 
 erly spanked. . . . 'Heavens and 
 earth, wherever did you come from?" 
 she exclaimed suddenly. "Sit down be 
 side me instantly!" And she called me 
 by name. 
 
 It was the third time I had heard it 
 that night. I had heard it so infre 
 quently that I liked the sound of it. 
 
 "And it is really you?" pushing me 
 off at arm's length the better to observe 
 the changes that had taken place. "You 
 grow more like your father; if you 
 hadn't that beard you would be the ex- 
 203
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 act picture of your father when he 
 married your mother. Oh, what a 
 pretty wedding it was!" 
 
 "I shall have to take your word for 
 it. I was up and about, however, at the 
 tin anniversary." 
 
 "I remember. Oh, but what a racket 
 you made among the pans!" She 
 laughed softly at the recollection. 
 
 "I was properly spanked that night," 
 I admitted. 
 
 And straightway we uncovered 
 thirty and twenty years respectively. 
 
 "By the way," said I carelessly, "is 
 Nancy Marsden engaged to be mar 
 ried?" 
 
 "Nancy? She never will be, to my 
 idea. She recently turned down a real 
 204
 
 NO CINDERELLA 
 
 duke: a duke that had money and 
 everything." 
 
 "And everything: is that castles?" I 
 inquired. 
 
 "Nonsense!" 
 
 "Well, between you and me and the 
 gate-post, Miss Nancy will be engaged 
 within two months." 
 
 "No!" excitedly. 
 
 "It is written." 
 
 "And to whom, pray?" 
 
 "It's the woman's place to announce 
 an engagement. But I know the man." 
 
 "He is worthy?" 
 
 "Oh, as men go." 
 
 Then the water-clock in the fountain 
 struck twelve, and I sprang up. 
 
 "Mercy, I'll never find any Cinder- 
 205
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 ella at this rate. All is lost if she es 
 capes me." 
 
 I kissed her hand gratefully, and 
 made off. 
 
 I immediately ran into a young miss 
 who, judging from her short dresses, 
 was a guest on sufferance, not having 
 ''come out" yet. 
 
 "Are you Cinderella?" I asked, with 
 all the gravity I could assume. 
 
 "Thank you, sir, but mama will not 
 permit me," her cheeks growing furi 
 ously red. 
 
 I passed on, willing to wager that the 
 little girl had understood me to ask her 
 to dance with me. 
 
 How I searched among the young 
 faces ; many I saw that I knew, but my 
 206
 
 NO CINDERELLA 
 
 confounded beard (which I 'deter 
 mined to cut the very next morning) 
 hid me as completely as the fabled in 
 visible cloak. I wondered where Jim 
 was Nancy's brother. I had seen him 
 in Europe, and I knew if he were any 
 where around there would be one to 
 clap me on the back and bid me wel 
 come home. This prodigal business 
 isn't what it's cracked up to be. ... 
 Somehow I felt that within a few days 
 I should be making love again to 
 Nancy; and I may truthfully add that 
 I 'dreaded the ordeal while I courted 
 it. 
 
 What if she refused me in the end? 
 I cast out at once this horrific thought 
 as unworthy a man of my address. 
 207
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 Under the stairway there was a cozy 
 corner. Upon the cushions I saw a 
 dark-haired girl in red. Now, when 
 they haven't a dash of red in their hair 
 I like it in their dress. She was pretty, 
 besides; so I stopped. 
 
 "Pardon me, but won't you tell me 
 if you are Cinderella?" producing 
 the slipper. 
 
 "I am," she said with an amused 
 smile. 
 
 "Then there is a Cinderella, after 
 all?" I cried joyfully. "Where are the 
 pumpkins?" glancing about. 
 
 "I believe that several of them have 
 gone hunting for the slipper." 
 
 I was delighted. Three witty women 
 all in one night, and two of them 
 208
 
 NO CINDERELLA 
 
 charming. It was more than a man had 
 any right to expect. 
 
 "You have really and truly lost a 
 slipper?" 
 
 '"Really and truly; only I am not the 
 Cinderella you are looking for." From 
 under her skirt there came into view 
 (immediately to disappear) a small 
 scarlet slipper. 
 
 I was very much taken aback. 
 
 "Red?" said I. "Ah, I have it. The 
 wicked fairy has cast a spell over the 
 slipper and turned it white." 
 
 "That would simplify everything 
 ... if we lived in fairy-tale times. 
 Oh, dear, there are no fairies nowadays, 
 and I wonder how in the world I am 
 to get home." 
 
 209
 
 "You have the pumpkins and the 
 
 mice." 
 
 "Only the pumpkins; it is after 
 twelve, and all the mice have gone 
 home." 
 
 "Haven't you an incantation?" I 
 asked. 
 
 She stretched out her arms dramati 
 cally. "Be gone, young man, be gone!" 
 
 "Very good," said I ; "but I am im 
 pervious to incantations of that sort." 
 
 "I wonder where the other Cinder 
 ella is?" adroitly. It was quite evi 
 dent that she wanted to be rid of me. 
 
 If I hadn't met Nancy ! 
 
 "Suppose I try this white slipper on 
 your foot?" 
 
 "It is not a supposable matter." 
 210
 
 NO CINDERELLA 
 
 "Would that I possessed a cobbler's 
 license I" sighing. 
 She laughed. "You wouldn't be half 
 
 so nice." 
 
 This was almost the beginning of an 
 enchantment. 
 
 "If you will turn your head toward 
 the wall I'll try on the slipper. I am 
 curious to learn if there is a girl here 
 who has a smaller foot than I." 
 
 "Vanity, vanity, all is vanity I" 
 
 " 'Tisn't vanity; it's curiosity; and 
 maybe my foot is getting cold." 
 
 I took some pillows and piled them 
 on the floor. "How will this do?" 
 
 "Since I can not have the slipper I 
 shall not move. Besides, I am sitting 
 on the unshod foot. Hadn't you better 
 211
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 sit down here beside me and give an 
 account of yourself and what you have 
 been doing all these ten years?" 
 
 "You know me?" genuinely aston 
 ished. 
 
 "But you do not know me?" 
 
 "No; it's a terrible thing to admit, 
 but I do not recognize you." 
 
 "Don't you remember Betty Lee?" 
 
 "Betty Lee? That homely little girl 
 turned into a goddess? Small wonder 
 that I didn't recognize you." 
 
 "My girl friends all say that I 
 haven't changed a bit in ten years." 
 
 "Envy, malice, jealousy! But it is 
 odd that you should recognize me and 
 that Nancy Marsden should forget 
 
 me." 
 
 212
 
 NO CINDERELLA 
 
 "I used to detest you; we forget only 
 those we love." 
 
 Enter one of the pumpkins, a young 
 fellow about twenty. Hang it, I was 
 always being interrupted by some cal 
 low youth ! 
 
 "Here's your confounded shoe, Bett. 
 I've had a deuce of a time finding it." 
 He tossed the slipper cavalierly into 
 her lap. 
 
 "Young man," said I severely, "you 
 will never succeed with the ladies." 
 
 "The lady happens to be my sister," 
 haughtily. 
 
 "Pardon me!" contritely. "I 
 should have remembered that sisters 
 don't belong." 
 
 The girl laughed and pushed out one 
 213
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 of the pillows. Then she gave me the 
 slipper. 
 
 "We'll not haggle over a cobbler's 
 license," she said. 
 
 I knelt and put on the slipper. Only 
 one thing marred the completeness of 
 my happiness: the slipper wasn't a 
 blue one. 
 
 The girl stood up and shook the 
 folds in her dress, then turned coldly 
 on her brother. 
 
 "You are a disgrace to the family, 
 Bob." 
 
 "Oh, fudge! Come on along to sup 
 per; it's ready, and I'm half starved." 
 
 Brothers don't belong, either. 
 
 "I wish you luck with the white slip 
 per," said Betty, as she turned to leave. 
 214
 
 NO CINDERELLA 
 
 "Call on me soon, and I'll forgive all 
 the past." 
 
 "That I shall." But I made up my 
 mind that I should call on Nancy first. 
 Otherwise it would be dangerous. 
 
 I stood alone. It rather hurt to think 
 one girl should remember me and that 
 the other should absolutely forget. But 
 supper brought me out of my cogita 
 tions. So once again I put away the 
 slipper and looked at my supper-card. 
 I was destined to sit at table four. I 
 followed the pilgrims out to worship at 
 the shrine of Lucullus. 
 
 Evidently there was no Cinderella; 
 or, true to her condition in life, she was 
 at this moment seated before her ash- 
 heap, surrounded by strutting and coo- 
 215
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 ing doves. Well, well, I could put the 
 slipper on the mantel at home; it 
 would be a pleasant reminder. 
 
 I found table four. There were four 
 chairs, none of them occupied; and as 
 I sat down I wondered if any one I 
 knew would sit down with me. 
 
 A heavy hand fell rudely upon my 
 shoulder. 
 
 "What do you mean, sir, by entering 
 a gentleman's house in this manner?" 
 demanded a stern voice. 
 
 I turned, my ears burning hotly. 
 
 "You old prodigal 1 You old man- 
 without-a-country! You pirate!" went 
 on the voice. "How dared you sneak in 
 in this fashion? Nan, what would you 
 do with him if you were in my place?" 
 216
 
 NO CINDERELLA 
 
 The voice belonged to Nancy Mars- 
 den's brother. 
 
 "I have no desire to put myself in 
 your place," said the only girl who 
 could be Cinderella. 
 
 "I wouldn't bother about his slipper, 
 not if he went barefooted all his life," 
 said I. 
 
 And then, and then, and then ! What 
 a bombardment! How pleased I was! 
 I was inordinately happy, and I didn't 
 eat a thing till the salad. 
 
 "How could you!" said Nancy. 
 
 "But you didn't recognize me," 
 with a show of defiance; "and I ex 
 pected that you would be the very 
 first." 
 
 "Cut off that horrid beard." 
 217
 
 THE ENCHANTED HAT 
 
 "To-morrow morning." 
 
 "And never wear it again." 
 
 "Never." 
 
 "Have you found Cinderella?" 
 Nancy asked presently. 
 
 "No; but I haven't given up all 
 hope." 
 
 "Let me see it." 
 
 With some hesitance I placed the 
 slipper in her hand. She looked at it 
 sharply. 
 
 "Good gracious!" 
 
 "What's the matter?" I asked. 
 
 "Why, this slipper has never been 
 ( worn at all. It is brand new!" She was 
 greatly bewildered. 
 
 "I know it," I replied; "I brought it 
 myself." 
 
 218
 
 NO CINDERELLA 
 
 Then how she laughed! And when 
 I asked her to do it again she did, even 
 more heartily than before. 
 
 "You will always be the same," 
 passing the slipper back to me. 
 
 "No, I want to be just a little differ 
 ent from now on," inscrutably. 
 
 She gave me an indescribable glance. 
 
 "Give the slipper to me." 
 
 "To keep?" 
 
 "Yes, to keep. Somehow, I rather 
 fancy I should like to try it on," de 
 murely. 
 
 So I gave her the slipper. 
 
 219
 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 Return this material to the library 
 
 from which it was borrowed.
 
 A 000 022 093 9 
 
 3 1158 01227 0558