Mrs. McKinley’s Bonnet
DURING the national gloom of the past two months a pretty little
story went the rounds in Washington, illustrating anew the diplomacy
of the late President McKinley. Before the fatal visit to Buffalo,
so the story goes, Mrs. McKinley was endeavoring to select a bonnet.
The milliner was with her, and the President had been sent for.
He was occupied with official business, but responded at once.
The President beheld Mrs. McKinley
radiant in a superb “effect” of the milliner’s art. He smiled broadly,
nodded in a joyous manner, and remarked that the milliner had fairly
outdone herself, intimating that he should take pleasure in officially
approving the negotiations. The milliner suggested that possibly
the bonnet in the box might be even more pleasing. Bonnet number
two was adjusted upon Mrs. McKinley’s head. Then the trouble began.
Mrs. McKinley peered at the reflection in the long mirror, and seemed
pleased; the President’s smile broadened, and he observed that the
bonnet was a dream. Then number one was again given the place of
honor, and the President said it was a dream, too.
After numerous transpositions, neither
Mrs. McKinley nor the President could name the favorite, and a deadlock
seemed inevitable. Then the diplomacy for which the President was
justly famous pressed itself into the breach. Turning to the milliner,
he smilingly remarked, “You may leave both, and I will endeavor
to pay for them.”
There is an obvious lesson for husbands