“What did you come for, then?”
“Heel-plates,” prompted Joe.
“With a star on,” added Dick.
“Oh, yes. I remember now. I sold them to a man, sort of a cowboy with a lasso. I was going to give you his name, wasn’t I?”
“Yes,” Teddy answered, “you were, Mr. Crispen.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but that name won’t be finished afore day arter tomorrow. I’ve been sort of rushed with work lately, and—”
“But this wasn’t work,” explained Teddy. “You were just going to look for the name of the man you sold one pair of star heel plates to, and who wanted another pair. Just his name, you know.”
“Oh, yes, that’s so, the name. You only want his name. I thought you wanted shoes. Well, let me see now, what did I do with his name? I wrote it on a piece of paper and then I put the paper away some place. I can’t just remember where. But it’ll come to me in a day or two, I dare say. Come back then.”
“Don’t you think you could find it now?” asked Dick.
“No, I don’t,” said Mr. Crispen as he took up a hammer and began pounding a leather sole. “I can’t remember.”