There was
something, too, in the tasteful simplicity of her gray tailor-made gown
that reminded Westerfelt of the dress of young ladies he had seen on
short visits to the larger towns in the State.
Her companion was the most conspicuous person in the room. He was
above medium height, and had a splendid physique--broad shoulders,
muscular limbs, light brown eyes, short brown beard, and long curling
hair. He wore a navy-blue sack-coat, large checked trousers tucked in
the tops of his boots, a gray woollen shirt, and a broad leather belt.
He was the only man in the room who had not taken off his hat. It was
very broad, the brim was pinned up on one side by a little brass
ornament, and he wore it on the back of his head.
Westerfelt caught the eye of his partner, and asked: "Who is the fellow
with the hat on?"
"Don't you know him?" she asked, in surprise. "Why, that's Toot
Wambush, Sarah's brother."
"Why don't he take off his hat?"
"For want of better sense, I reckon." Then she laughed, impulsively.
"I'll tell you why he always keeps it on in the house.
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