“I do think folks are awfully good to us, Mamsie,” said Polly, turning away from the window, to pause a minute before beginning to sweep again. “Just supposing Miss Parrott hadn’t let us see that circus!” and her cheeks paled at the very thought.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Pepper, and her busy needle stopped. “Miss Parrott is good, and God is good, to let her do it.”
“Isn’t He?” cried Polly, with shining eyes. “And now to think that Davie has a new cap, too!” as the busy needle now went hurrying in and out. “But I never shall get this floor swept up, if I stop all the time.”
Davie hurried as fast as he could, because the shoe must be mended as soon as possible. But he had to step carefully else a bad matter would be made worse. At last he was over the cobble-stones of the narrow street in front of the shoe-shop, and lifting the knocker on Mr. Beebe’s door.
“Well, well,” cried the little shoemaker, turning away from a box of bed-slippers he was sorting to rub his hands together delightedly, “if here doesn’t come Davie Pepper!”
“Yes,” said David, “I’ve come.”
He took off his new cap—he didn’t want to, but Mamsie had said “Never keep a cap on when you go to see people,” and to enter the little shoe-shop was far more than to do business; it was to visit friends. So he held the new cap in his hands.
“And now what can I do for you, Davie?” asked little Mr. Beebe, coming forward. “What has your mother sent you for?”
“It’s to mend my shoe,” said Davie, holding up his foot to show where the leather flapped.
“So?” cried the little shoemaker, setting his spectacles straight. “Well, now, you come over an’ set on th’ bench, an’ we’ll see what we shall see about that shoe.”