MAKING IT EASY.
Shoemaker (most accommodating). "THE OTHER FITS ALL RIGHT, M'LORD—THIS ONE WAS A BIT TIGHT,—BUT NOW I'VE EASED IT YOU'LL BE ABLE TO WEAR IT WITH PERFECT COMFORT. WE CAN'T AFFORD TO LOSE YOUR CUSTOM, M'LORD!"
Shoemaker.. Lord S-l-sb-ry. Customer.. Lord H-rt-ngt-n.
Customer. H-o-w-o-u-g-h!!!
Shoemaker (solicitously). Beg pardon, m'Lord! Hurt you, m'Lord?
Customer. Hurt? I should think it did, indeed.
Shoemaker. Very strange, m'Lord. 'Tother one seems to fit you to a nicety. (Aside.) Fancied that might be a tight fit now.
Customer. Humph! I can make shift with that. But this won't do at all. Tight across the instep and pinches the toes awfully. (Aside.) Hang it! it's a beastly bad fit everyway; but that it wouldn't suit to me change just now, I'd throw the confounded things on his hands and go elsewhere.
Shoemaker (aside). He looks grumpy; I must mind my eye, or I shall lose his custom. And that wouldn't suit my books a bit—just now. (Aloud.) Awfully sorry, I'm sure, m'Lord. We must try again.
Customer. You ought to have got the measure of my foot better than this, especially when I handed you my old lasts.
Shoemaker. Well, m'Lord, you see, you've a bit—ahem!—outgrown 'em like, don't you see, m'Lord?
Customer. Outgrown them? What do you mean? Feet don't grow at my time of life.
Shoemaker (aside). How shall I put it so as not to huff him? Bunions are a growth; so are corns—of a kind. (Aloud.) Why, m'Lord, I think—I—a—fancy your last pair—Gladstone highlows they were—weren't they?—trying shoes for tender feet, m'Lord—must have been just a trifle too small, and—ahem!—compressed your feet a little, at the joints, m'Lord.
Customer (aside). By Jove, he's right. G.'s tight fits have galled me for some time past, and the last pair he made me I simply couldn't get on. (Aloud.) Hang it, man, what has that to do with it? Your business is to fit my feet as they are. If you can't do it——
Shoemaker (hastily). Can't, m'Lord? No such word in our shop, m'Lord. I flatter myself we could fit the biggest beetle-crusher ever bunion'd into the shape of a giant potato or a Californian nugget. Much more your shapely foot, m'Lord, which, if it has been nubblyfied a leetle by misfits, will soon recover its proper proportions—under proper treatment.
Customer. Well, off with this boot, anyhow. You'll have to make it longer and wider, ease it here and slacken it there, before I can wear it.
Shoemaker. Very good, m'Lord. (Aside.) Doosed imperative, but I can't afford to offend him. Though I never expected an old-established high-class firm like ours would have stooped to tout for any of botching G.'s old customers. There's Mr. Joseph Brummagem, now, fancy my having to kneel at his feet, and take his measure! More particular than this one, if anything, and puts him up to half his objections, I believe. Well, well, trade's bad, and we mustn't be too scrupulous, I suppose. Besides, some of G.'s old customers seem drifting back to the old shop we thought was just about shutting up, and that won't do at any price.
Customer (irritably). What are you muttering and murmuring about?
Shoemaker. Murmuring, m'Lord? Oh dear no, m'Lord. Not at all, m'Lord. Quite the contrary. I was only blessing that there G. for spoiling the Trade as he has done. Brought us down from Wellingtons, and even his own smartly cut Oxonians to borough Bluchers and rustic highlows; and now wants to set a new fashion all on a sudden, and make us all take to his confounded badly cut Irish brogues. Yah! Chaps like G. ought to be boycotted—ahem!—I mean Primrose-Leagued out of the profession. Wonder any gentleman can condescend to deal with him. Now, my customers, as your friend Mr. Joseph kindly acknowledged t'other day, are gentlemen to a man, and for cut, style, finish and polish, I will say——
Customer. Oh, yes, no doubt. But the point just at present, my good fellow, is fit. If you miss that you miss all.
Shoemaker (eagerly). Oh, have no fear on that account, m'Lord. Elastic's the word, m'Lord. We've any number of different trees, and our leather is warranted to stretch to any extent. We'll even alter our favourite old-fashionable cut to suit such customers as you!
Customer. Thanks. The fashion is changing a little, I fear. I don't want to leave you, and I won't go back to G.—if I can help it. If his brogue should become the vogue—but there, it's shocking to think of it. Give us a decent fit which we can wear in public without reproach, and we'll stick to you. But how about this boot?
Shoemaker (with effusion). Oh, we'll alter it to any extent, to suit your taste, m'Lord, though it isn't exactly the cut upon which our House has always prided itself. There! It was a bit tight, but now I've eased it you'll be able to wear it with perfect comfort. We can't afford to lose your custom, m'Lord!
