Such logic was more depressing than convincing.
CHAPTER VII.
The First Day.
On the first of September, when Mauney came to Lockwood to find a boarding-place and to buy a few articles of clothing before the school term began, he found everybody in ill humor. Along Queen Street West, in the shop district, men were sweltering, with handkerchiefs tucked about their collars, carrying their coats and fanning themselves with their hats. In a shoe store the air was humid and suffocating, and the patience of the young clerk seemed dangerously exhausted.
“I don’t know why you don’t like those oxfords,” he said, gruffly, as he unlaced the third shoe he had tried to sell his customer.
“And we’re not going into the reasons for our dislike,” Mauney replied. “I don’t like them, and that’s all there is to it.”
“Well,” sighed the clerk, “we’ve got better shoes in the store; but you’d have to pay twelve-fifty.”
“Have you any objection to me paying twelve-fifty?”
The shoes were fitted.