"It's too tight That's not my size."
"It certainly is your size! It's a 9-D, and that's what you've got on right now. Don't tell me my business, mister. Look—see? That's your size."
"I say it doesn't fit! And I don't want a vici kid, anyway. I can have a good strong walking shoe if I want it, can't I?"
"Oh, you want a shoe for walking! Why didn't you say so in the first place and save my time? Sure, you can have it; I got no objection. What do you want to pay?"
"About six dollars."
"We don't keep cheap shoes, mister," said Paul, getting up from his knees.
"I don't want a cheap shoe."
"Yes, you do! What do you call a six dollar shoe, if it ain't a cheap shoe? Say, I might sell you one shoe for that."
"Young fellow," growled the customer, pulling on his own shoe again and jabbing viciously at the eyelets, "you couldn't sell me any shoe at all. You need a lesson in good manners, you do!"
"Go along now, mister," said Paul, reclining again on his bench. "You're in the wrong store, see?