So Davie hobbled over and sat on the bench, and the little shoe was drawn off and submitted to a close examination, Davie following every movement with anxious eyes.
“The whole o’ th’ shoe is pretty bad,” said little Mr. Beebe slowly, pinching the well-worn leather critically.
Davie drew a long breath. “And Mamsie said would you please sew it up now, as I haven’t any more shoes.”
“Sho!” exclaimed the little shoemaker. Then he thought better of what he was going to say. “Yes, I’ll get right to work on it,” and pretty soon he was stitching away and cobbling at a great rate, Davie swinging his stocking-foot, and the other one in its rusty shoe, while the work went on.
“Where do you suppose I went yesterday, Mr. Beebe?” asked Davie in the midst of it. For the little shoemaker always expected the Pepper children to entertain him when they came to the shop. “It makes work go easier,” he said.
“Now I never can guess,” said Mr. Beebe, waxing his long thread again.
“I went to the circus,” said Davie.
“You didn’t, though!” The little shoemaker was genuinely surprised now, and he dropped his needle to peer over his spectacles at Davie.
“Yes, I did,” said Davie, with a jubilant little crow, “and every single one of us did, Mr. Beebe,” and he clapped his hands in delight at the remembrance.
“Now do tell!” The little shoemaker was so overwhelmed with the news that he forgot to pick up his needle. “Well, how did you get there?”