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"What'll you take for him?" "Why, hello!" said the shoeman, with an eye that dwelt upon the chef's official white cap and apron, "You talk English, don't you? Fust off, I didn't know but it was one of them foreign dukes come ova he'a to marry some oua poor millionai'es daughtas."
"I'm out for the walk." He looked round furtively, and then put his hand on the side of the wagon, mechanically, as if to detain it, while he walked on. "Did you sell the slippers to the young lady?" "Well, not as you may say sell, exactly," returned the shoeman, cautiously. "Have you-got them yet?" asked the student. "Guess so," said the man. "Like to see 'em?" He pulled up his horse.
"Oh, don't go!" they chorused in an equally histrionic alarm, and the shoeman got down from his perch to show his wares. "Now, the'a, ladies," he said, pulling out one of the drawers, and dangling a pair of shoes from it by the string that joined their heels, "the'e's a shoe that looks as good as any Sat'd'y-night shoe you eva see.
Why, the doc was saying, just this morning, when we was speaking of having read about you in the paper he was saying that you were the kind of man we need for president of our country club, instead of some dude like that sissified Buck Simpson. Buck is as punk an athlete as he is a shoeman, and, believe me, Mr. Appleby, we've got the makings of a fine country club.
"This is a shoe that I'm intaducin'," the shoeman went on, "and every pair is warranted warranted numba two; don't make any otha size, because we want to cata to a strictly numba two custom. If any lady doos feel 'em a little mite too snug, I'm sorry for her, but I can't do anything to help her in this shoe." "Too snug!" came a gay voice from in-doors.
And the shoeman said I brought him good trade and he gave me a piece of beeswax. So maybe we could get customers for Mrs. Golden." "Maybe we could!" cried Sue. "Let's tell the other boys and girls to get their fathers and mothers to let them buy things at Mrs. Golden's, and then she'll have a lot of customers!" "Oh, let's!" cried Bunny Brown. And they did.
Atwell wants to see you a moment, Mr. Fane," she said to the clerk. "All right, Miss Claxon," Fane answered, with the sorrowful respect which he always showed Clementina, now, "I'll be right there." But he waited a moment, either in expression of his personal independence, or from curiosity to know what the shoeman was going to say of the bronze slippers.
A blight fell upon the gay spirits of the group, and the shoeman asked with an ironical glance after Gregory's retreating figure, "Owna of this propaty?" "No, just the ea'th," said the big girl, angrily. The voice of Clementina made itself heard with a cheerfulness which had apparently suffered no chill, but was really a rising rebellion. "How much ah' the slippas?"
The girls were trying on shoes on every side now, and they had dispensed with the formality of going in-doors for the purpose. More than one put out her foot to the clerk for his opinion of the fit, and the shoeman was mingling with the crowd, testing with his hand, advising from his professional knowledge, suggesting, urging, and in some cases artfully agreeing with the reluctance shown.
"Why my foot feels puffectly lost in this one." "All right," the shoeman shouted back. "Call it a numba one shoe and then see if you can't find that lost foot in it, some'eres. Or try a little flour, and see if it won't feel more at home. I've hea'd of a shoe that give that sensation of looseness by not goin' on at all."
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