"It’s funny how almost any one’ll make mistakes," he said.  Out of the tail of his eye he beheld a tall figure hurrying down the street towards the tree where Pa Smith’s buggy stood in a patch of shade.  "Say we go an’ look in your buggy again for that little parrysole of yours, Mr. Smith. Then, if it ain’t there, we’ll go on up to the hotel an’ get a little something to console you."