" said the gentleman from the boot-shop. "Ah! you'd want to take a thing or two with YOU," retorted "The Blue Posts," "if you was a-going to cross the Atlantic in a small boat." "They ain't a-going to cross the Atlantic," struck in Biggs's boy; "they're a-going to find Stanley." By this time, quite a small crowd had collected, and people were asking each other what was the matter.

Biggs's boy hailed him: "Hi! ground floor o' 42's a-moving." The grocer's boy came across, and took up a position on the other side of the step. Then the young gentleman from the boot-shop stopped, and joined Biggs's boy; while the empty-can superintendent from "The Blue Posts" took up an independent position on the curb. "They ain't a-going to starve, are they?

If you say to your valet, "Look after the buttons on my waistcoat," he may do it, even if you throw a boot at his head. But if you say to him, "Look after the buttons on my top-hat," he will not do it, though you empty a boot-shop over him. If you say to a schoolboy, "Write out that Ode of Horace from memory in the original Latin," he may do it without a flogging.

And every shop that is not a provision-shop or a clothes-shop or a boot-shop, is a wine-shop or at least you would think so, until you remember, after you have walked through the street, what a lot of other kinds of shops you have seen on your way.

There is a big patch of green on the ceiling from the ikon lamp, and the baby-clothes and the trousers throw long shadows on the stove, on the cradle, and on Varka. . . . When the lamp begins to flicker, the green patch and the shadows come to life, and are set in motion, as though by the wind. It is stuffy. There is a smell of cabbage soup, and of the inside of a boot-shop. The baby's crying.

A huge Chinese boot, gaudily painted on a swinging sign-board, proclaimed a boot-shop, where in ordinary times they could buy every kind of foot-covering. But now it was no good attempting such methods. So they tilted straight at the shop-door without hesitation, and beating a wild rataplan of blows on the wooden shutters, demanded an entry in a roar of voices.

A hundred and fifty years old and more was this addition, which the Millerite had moved up from the Wheeler farm and built on for his boot-shop; yet these great oak cap-posts marked a period far more remote. They were second-hand when they went into the Wheeler building, for there were in them the marks of mortising that had no reference to the present structure.

One plays in shoes for a few years with the most dire result, running away to square leg from fast balls, and so on, till despair seizes the soul. Then an angel in human form, in the very effective disguise of the man at the school boot-shop, hints that, for an absurdly small sum in cash, you may become the sole managing director of a pair of white buckskin boots with real spikes. You try them on.

And every shop that is not a provision-shop or a clothes-shop or a boot-shop, is a wine-shop or at least you would think so, until you remember, after you have walked through the street, what a lot of other kinds of shops you have seen on your way.

The cook, affecting not to hear him, looked out for a boot-shop, and having found one, walked in, followed by the discontented Sam, and purchased a shilling's-worth of laces. "Wot am I to say?" demanded Sam surlily, as they stood outside, and the cook hung half a dozen laces over his arm. "You needn't say anything," replied the cook.