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Updated: May 6, 2025
Store-made shoes, or more often the hand-made moccasins of soft doeskin trimmed with silver and turquoise buttons, are worn without stockings. The feet of Indian women are unusually small and well-shaped.
If she was so particular as to think it necessary to dress herself in store-made undergarments, why make all these precautions void by carrying into the house a hat with the name of an expensive milliner inside it?" "Women are inconsistent, sir. She liked the hat and hated to part with it.
Seven weeks after Vic Burleigh had come alongside the Greek Professor into Sunrise, found the quick marvelous change from the timid, untrained, overgrown young giant into a leader of his clan, the pride of the Freshman, the terror of the Sophomores, the dramatic interest of the classroom, and the hope of Sunrise on the football gridiron. His store-made clothes had a jaunty carelessness of fit.
"What are you looking at there?" growled the policeman. "Get up, can't you! No one but the Coroner has right to lay hand on anything here." "I'm doing no harm," the woman protested, in an odd, shaking voice. "I only wanted to see what the poor thing had on. Some blue stuff, isn't it?" she asked me. "Blue serge," I answered; "store-made, but very good; must have come from Altman's or Stern's."
She had come out to the field when the prairie-chickens were still playing their bagpipes on the river bank, their booming sounding through the morning air so clearly that the little girl had been sure they were not farther than the edge of the wheat-field, and had walked out of her way to try to see them, tramping along in her best shoes, which had shiny copper toes and store-made laces.
We hope that her brittle clay will survive until such time as some friend from across the sea is moved to provide for her a "store-made" successor. "That which shall be." One more spot must be visited before our pilgrimage ends. No guest of the Medical School is ever allowed to depart without a visit to "the site," that pride of Dr. Ida Scudder and her staff.
Blake, who as one of the committee was standing beside the professor. "What is it, my boy? Let me see. You're Joe Digby, of the Eagle Patrol, aren't you." "Yes, sir; and I live out on a farm near Jack Curtiss. I was watching him fly his machine this morning, from behind a hedge, and I heard them saying something about 'their store-made machine beating any country boy's model."
Yes, to-day he envied no one neither Tom Bassett nor Dudley Webb, neither the general nor the judge. He held the books tightly under his arm and smiled down upon the road. His clumsy, store-made boots left heavy tracks in the dust, but he seemed to be treading air. It was three o'clock in the afternoon of a murky day in early November, and the clouds were swollen with incoming autumnal rains.
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