At last she produced a quaint-looking little blue and purple bonnet, with an exquisitely soft long motor veil of grey chiffon.

“My sister is at Monte Carlo,” she observed, “and when she was passing through Paris she got me a dozen early autumn models.  I have already copied this model in other colours, but this is the original motor bonnet.  May I advise that you try it on?”

It was in its way a delightful bit of colour, and Betty hardly knew herself when she looked in the glass and saw what a very pretty reflection was presented there.  She was startled—­but oh, how pleasantly startled—­to see how young she still could look.

“Of course you must have that one,” said Radmore, in a matter of fact tone, “and leave the horrid thing you wore coming here behind you.”  Then he turned to Timmy:—­“Now then, don’t you think you could choose something for your mother?”

The lady of the shop turned patronisingly towards the little boy.  She went across to a corner cupboard and opened what appeared to be a rather secret receptacle.  Though she had not been in business long, she already realised what an advantage it is to deal, as regards feminine fripperies, with a man-customer.  Also, Radmore, almost in spite of himself, looked opulent.

“I think I have the very thing!” she explained.  “It’s a little on the fantastic side, and so only suits a certain type of face.”

As she spoke she brought out a miniature brown poke bonnet which was wreathed with one uncurled ostrich feather of a peculiar powder blue tint.  She put it deftly on Betty’s head, then stepped back and gazed delightedly into the smiling face and dancing eyes of her new client.

“I have kept this back,” she began, “hoping I should come across a bride-elect whom it might really suit, for it would make a perfect ‘going-away’ hat!  But it is so extraordinarily becoming to this lady, that I feel I ought to let her have it!”

She turned appealingly to Radmore, but Timmy intervened:—­“That’s not my mother!” he cried, going off into fits of laughter.  “We want a hat for my mother.  That’s only my sister!”

The shop-lady looked vexed, and Radmore felt awkward.  He realised that he and Betty had been taken for husband and wife, Timmy for their spoilt little boy.

“I’m quite sure I could find something that would suit Janet,” exclaimed Betty, hastily taking off the delightful bit of headgear.

She put on the motor bonnet again, and then she went over to where a black garden hat, with just one rose on the brim, and with long blue velvet strings, was lying on a table.

“I think Timmy’s mother would look very nice in this,” she said smiling.

The black hat was slipped into a big paper-bag, and handed to Timmy.  Then Radmore exclaimed:  “Now then, we’ve no time to lose!  Help your sister into the car, Timmy, while I stop behind and pay the bill.”