“When I was a little girl,” began Grandmother, “children did not wear shoes all the time. They went barefoot in the summer, except when they were dressed up. One pair of shoes had to last a whole year.
“When we went to church we used to go barefoot, carrying our shoes in our hands. At the foot of the hill we washed our feet in the brook and put on our shoes and stockings.
“Our shoes did not wear out very fast; and if we lost a shoe, we had to go barefoot till the shoemaker came again.”
“Oh, dear!” sighed May, “how dreadful! Who was the shoemaker, Grandmother, and when did he come?”
“The shoemaker,” Grandmother replied, “was a very important man when I was a little girl. ‘Shoe week’ was a busy week in the family.
“I can remember how glad we all were when father said, ‘The shoemaker will be here to-morrow.’
“That night the shoe bench was brought down from the attic and placed in a warm corner of the kitchen.
“Father and mother made a list of the shoes that were needed. We children talked about our new shoes and the shoemaker until we fell asleep.
“Early in the morning the shoemaker appeared. He carried his bag of tools and a roll of leather on his back. By seven o’clock he was seated at his bench, hard at work.
“We children used to sit on the floor beside him and watch him work. First he measured our feet and drew some paper patterns. Then he cut out the leather.