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 in this.