I. The Worn Shoes
“Where now, Wallace?” asked Mr. Duwell as he met his son one bright afternoon.
The boy was carrying a bundle under his arm.
“Mother sent me over to the shoemaker’s,” replied the boy.
“I am glad I ran across you,” said Mr. Duwell; “I have an errand over in that direction; I’ll walk along with you.”
“Oh, all right, father. Mother said she wished she could ask you about my shoes. We could not make up our minds whether they were worth half-soling or not.”
“Why not talk the matter over with the shoemaker?” said Mr. Duwell.
“I suppose I shouldn’t have let them get so worn before taking them to Mr. Shoemaker’s,” remarked Wallace.
“As mother says, ‘A stitch in time saves nine,’” remarked Mr. Duwell.
“By the way, father,” continued Wallace, “isn’t Mr. Shoemaker’s name a good one for a cobbler?”
Mr. Duwell smiled. “Very good, indeed; but really it isn’t so strange as it seems. Many years ago, when people did not have two names, they became known by the names of the trades they followed. For instance, John the baker became John Baker, and later Mr. Baker; so also the tailor became Mr. Taylor; the mason, Mr. Mason; the carpenter, Mr. Carpenter.”
“And the blacksmith, Mr. Smith; and the cook, Mr. Cook,” added Wallace.
“Yes,” said his father, “and we could think of many more such names; but here we are at Mr. Shoemaker’s. Suppose you attend to this little matter of business by yourself, while I do my errand.”
This made Wallace look pleased and important as he stepped into the shop.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Shoemaker,” he said.
“Good afternoon,” replied the shoemaker; “what can I do for you to-day?”
Wallace handed him the parcel, which he opened.
“Do you think it would pay to put half-soles and new heels on these shoes?” asked the boy.
“Pretty good uppers,” replied the shoemaker, examining them carefully. “I think it would almost double the length of life of these shoes to mend them, but I would not wear the next pair quite so long before having them mended.”
“I think you are right,” said Wallace. “How much will you charge?”
“A dollar and a quarter for soles and heels,” replied the man.
“Isn’t that a good deal?” asked Wallace.
“Not too much if we use the best quality of leather, and it doesn’t pay to use any other.”
“All right, Mr. Shoemaker,” agreed Wallace. “When shall I call for them?”
“On Saturday,” he replied, writing Wallace’s name on a tag.
“Very well, good afternoon.”
“Good-by,” said the shoemaker.
Outside the door Wallace was joined by his father.
“I do not know whether I did right to leave my shoes, father,” said Wallace. “Mr. Shoemaker said the charge would be a dollar and a quarter. Doesn’t that seem a big price?”
“It does,” replied Mr. Duwell, “but I think you did right. A new pair of such shoes would cost three dollars and seventy-five cents.”
“And three dollars and seventy-five cents, less one dollar and a quarter, equals two dollars and a half saved,” finished Wallace.
“That is true, my boy,” said Mr. Duwell, “if they last as long as a new pair.”
Tell the story of this picture.
Can you tell something about tanning and finishing leather? Have you ever visited a shoe factory?
It seems strange to think that the leather in our shoes was once worn by animals, doesn’t it?
“I suppose we ought to be very much obliged to the shoemaker, even though we do pay him for his work,” mused the boy aloud.
“So we should,” said his father. “Everyone who does good work helps the world along, whether he is paid for it or not.”
“But I shouldn’t want to be a shoemaker,” went on Wallace.
“Why not, Wallace?”
“Oh, I hardly know, father.”
“Shoemaking is very interesting, and it requires skill, my boy. Of course, the making of new shoes does not require the skill it did years ago because so much of the work is done by machines.”
“Did you ever hear of a shoemaker who became a great man?” asked Wallace.
“Oh, that is the question, is it?” said Mr. Duwell with a smile. “I have heard of several, and this evening I shall be glad to talk about them.”