"Charleston, Illinois?" thought the hat with surprise. "Now what? Here I thought I had a chance to be back on the coast again, and I'm in the middle of some little town in the Midwest! How will I ever see Keith again?" The hat moped around on the bed where the man had laid him. The man and his wife had left the room. "Probably went to get something to eat," the hat thought with a grunt. "No one ever thinks about hungry hats."
The hat had rested on the bed for a couple of hours when he heard the click of the door opening. "I can't believe you found it!" he heard a little boy say. "Could it be Douglas?" the hat thought. It sounded like him.
"Yes, Douglas," the man said. "It was stuck under a pile of leaves in the yard. We forgot all about it the day you sprained your ankle."
It was Douglas! The hat was excited. Douglas came to the bed and picked up the hat. Cradling it in his hands, he said, "I'm so sorry, hat. My ankle hurt so badly. They took me to the emergency room at the hospital. Then we went home. I had to stay off my feet for about two weeks and use crutches. By that time I forgot about you. Some friend I am! But why am I talking to you? You can't understand me."
The hat wanted to nod his bill or do something so the boy would know he actually did understand him. But soon, he was atop the boy's head with a bird's eye view.
"Let's go, Grandpa!" Douglas said.
They grabbed a picnic basket and headed to the car. They drove along Illinois Highway 130 until they reached a picnic area overlooking Lake Charleston. Douglas felt excitement as he unbuckled his seat belt and tumbled out of the car.
"Uncle Keith!" Douglas cried, as he ran toward a tall, dark-haired man.