Caspar sprang to his feet, and at the same time the pewter tankards and all the pipes, the host and all the customers, danced round before his eyes. With a great gasp of excitement he bounded out to the street, and sped on to the market place, past Dame Dimity's, and past Christie Clogs', and on to the narrow street with the overshadowing wall, and on, and on, until he arrived at the royal entrance. He obtained admittance as before, and pressed forward till he was arrested by the supercilious lackeys in gold-lace livery.
"What! here again, old Hop-o'-my-thumb!" cried they.
"But I am the royal shoemaker, gentlemen!" exclaimed Caspar, proudly, "and that was my own work which I carried in my hand yesterday morning."
"What knavery is this?" returned the head menial of the castle, "the royal shoemaker, villain, is no clumsy clown from these parts; but he and his wares come from abroad, from Paris. He is, moreover, with the king at present, receiving his reward for the beautiful new pair of shoes in softly-tanned leather, which arrived last night at dusk. He is an elegant gentleman, this Parisian, and knows fine manners as well as his trade, for he ne'er goes nor comes without dealing out largesse to us, the gentlemen attendants, and therein exhibits his good breeding."
"But the shoes!" stammered out Caspar all aghast. "The shoes! I made them, and His Majesty the king has them on at this very moment. Confound your Parisian!" he screamed, waxing wroth; "it was I who made the shoes—they were found on the western balcony last night—His Majesty must know that they are the work of Caspar the cobbler, of Cobweb Corner!"
At this moment a musical murmur of voices was audible from within, and a creaking of boots; and at once the angry lackeys turned smiling faces towards the departing French merchant, who politely pressed a little coin into each of their outstretched palms.
When at length he took his departure, Caspar followed him some way with a very ugly expression disfiguring his features. "I could kill this dandy interloper, who steals the reward and credit of my hard-earned toil! I could stick my awl through him!"
Poor Caspar, it was well that at this instant he was accosted by his loving little angel, his sweet, blue-eyed Mabel!
"Eh, my Caspar, whatever has come over you, and whither are you going, that you do not even see your own Mabel? And, oh! I am thankful to have met you now, for look, Caspar, with trudging past Cobweb Corner every day my pretty shoes are well-nigh worn through! So I must have a new pair, and you may set about making them at once."
Then poor Caspar told her about his grievous disappointment at the castle, and the insults and humiliation he had experienced at the hands of the royal underlings. "It is too bad." he said, "to think that nobody knows that I made them!"