Boney stumbled to his place, and sat looking at his book, with hot, briny tears stealing down under the huge spectacles. From past experiences he had learned too well what that meant. The school settled down into almost breathless silence, and the guilty couple began to study violently.
"I can't get my shoe laced up without his seeing me," whispered Jode, presently.
"Oh, leave it off," begged Johnny, "and slip the other one off, too. It feels awful good to get rid of shoes." He stretched out his ten little brown toes, and surveyed them with a satisfied air. "See them feet?" he asked. "Them old feet don't care for nothing but glass. They can stand rocks or anything. Why, in summer, I can tramp down the thorniest kind of bushes, blackberryin', and never mind the briars a bit."
"Aw, I wouldn't be such a brag," responded Jode. Nevertheless, he silenced the inward voice that reminded him of his mother's command, and followed his little friend's example.
It was soon time for the afternoon recess, and they all went trooping out into the warm sunshine, all but Boney, doomed to solitude and the leather spectacles.
Half a dozen boys crossed the playground, and went to the blacksmith shop on the other side of the road. Jode followed slowly, for the sticks and stones hurt his bare feet, and his conscience hurt him more, as he remembered his mother's parting instructions.
As usual the good-natured blacksmith was busy at his anvil, and paid no attention to the crowd of boys making themselves at home in his smithy. A seedy-looking stranger on a mule rode up to the door to have a loose shoe fastened in place.
"Be keerful, young 'uns," he drawled, "this 'ere mewel's heels is loaded."
The boys shoved back a little to give the newcomer more room, and then kept on shoving each other in play. The end boy fell against Johnny, and Johnny fell against Jode, and Jode took another step backward. This time his little bare foot came down on the piece of hot iron that the blacksmith had thrown aside when he went to wait on his new customer.