"You are a vary young gentleman to wear dop boots," said the shoemaker.
"I suppose, fellow," says I, "that is my business and not yours; either make the boots or not—but when you speak to a man of my rank, speak respectfully;" and I poured out a number of oaths, in order to impress him with a notion of my respectability.
They had the desired effect.—"Stay, sir," says he, "I have a nice littel pair of dop boots dat I tink will jost do for you," and he produced, sure enough, the most elegant things I ever saw. "Day were made," said he, "for de Honourable Mr. Stiffney, of de Gards, but were too small."
"Ah, indeed!" said I, "Stiffney is a relation of mine: and what, you scoundrel, will you have the impudence to ask for these things?" He replied, "Three pounds."
"Well," said I, "they are confoundedly dear, but as you will have a long time to wait for your money, why I shall have my revenge, you see." The man looked alarmed, and began a speech: "Sare, I cannot let dem go vidout;"—but a bright thought struck me, and I interrupted—"Sir! don't sir me—take off the boots, fellow, and, hark ye! when you speak to a nobleman, don't say—Sir."
"A hundert tousand pardons, my lort," says he: "if I had known you were a lort, I vood never have called you, Sir. Vat name shall I put down in my books?"
"Name?—oh! why—Lord Cornwallis, to be sure," said I, as I walked off in the boots.
"And vat shall I do vid my lort's shoes?" "Keep them until I send for them," said I; and, giving him a patronizing bow, I walked out of the shop, as the German tied up my shoes in a paper....
This story I would not have told, but that my whole life turned upon these accursed boots. I walked back to school as proud as a peacock, and easily succeeded in satisfying the boys as to the manner in which I came by my new ornaments.
Well, one fatal Monday morning, the blackest of all black-Mondays that ever I knew—as we were all of us playing between school-hours—I saw a posse of boys round a stranger, who seemed to be looking out for one of us—a sudden trembling seized me—I knew it was Stiffelkind: what had brought him here? He talked loud, and seemed angry—so I rushed into the school-room, and, burying my head between my hands, began reading for the dear life.