That Sunday dinner was a bountiful repast and Galusha ate more than he had eaten in three meals at his mountain hotel. He was a trifle tired from his morning's stroll and so decided to remain indoors until the following day. After the table was cleared Miss Phipps, leaving Primmie to wash the dishes, went over to the light keeper's house. “I'll be back soon, Mr. Bangs,” she said. “If you get lonesome go out into the kitchen and Primmie'll talk to you. Goodness gracious!” she added, laughing, “that's a dreadful choice I'm leavin' you--lonesomeness or Primmie. Well, I won't leave you to either long.” During the meal he had told them of his chance discovery of the old church and graveyard and of the loss of the brown derby. Primmie plainly regarded the catastrophe to the hat as a serious matter. “Well, now, if that ain't too bad!” she exclaimed. “Blowed right out to sea, and 'most brand-new, too. My savin' soul, Miss Martha, folks ought to be careful what they say, hadn't they?... Eh, hadn't they?” “Oh, I guess so, Primmie. I don't know what you're talkin' about. Can't I help you to a little more of the chicken pie, Mr. Bangs? Just a little BIT more?” Galusha had scarcely time to decline the third helping of chicken pie when Primmie plunged again into the conversation. “Why, I mean folks ought to be careful what they say about--about things. Now you and me hadn't no notion Mr. Bangs was goin' to lose his hat when we was talkin' about it this mornin', had we?” Miss Phipps was much embarrassed. “Have a--a--Oh, do have a little potato or cranberry sauce or somethin', Mr. Bangs,” she stammered. “A--a spoonful, that's all. Primmie, be STILL.” “Yes'm. But you know you and me WAS talkin' about that hat when Mr. Bangs started out walkin'. Don't you know we was, Miss Martha?” This was the final straw. Martha, looking about in desperation, trying to look anywhere but into her guest's face, caught one transitory glimpse of that face. There was a twinkle in Galusha's eye. “I never liked that hat myself,” he observed, dryly. Again their glances met and this time he smiled. Martha gave it up. “Oh, dear!” she exclaimed, with a laugh. “You know what they say about children and--other folks, Mr. Bangs. Primmie, if you say another word while we're at this table I'll--I don't know what I'll do to you. STOP! You've said plenty and plenty more, as father used to say. Truly, Mr. Bangs, it wasn't as bad as it sounds. I honestly DIDN'T think the hat was becomin', that's all.” “Neither did I, Miss Phipps. I didn't think so when I bought it.” “You didn't? Then for mercy sakes why did you buy it?” “Well, the man said it was just the hat for me and--ah--I didn't wish to argue, that's all. Besides, I thought perhaps he knew best; selling hats was his--ah--profession, you see.” “Yes, SELLIN' 'em was. Do you always let folks like that pick out what they want to sell you?” “No-o, not always. Often I do. It saves--ah--conversation, don't you think?”