In a moment the shoe slipped off noiselessly, and Johnny put three of his largest marbles in a row on a crack in the floor. "Aw, that ain't fair," said Jode. "You can't pick up that big Pompey yourself. Put down three little grays." Johnny grumbled, but made the change, and Jode triumphantly picked them up with his toes. "There," said he. "What did I tell you?" Just then one of the marbles began to slip. He tried to regain his hold, and all three of them dropped noisily, and went rolling across the floor. The teacher turned quickly, and his eyes fell, not on Johnny and Jode, but on Boney Woods, who had finished the spectacles and put them on, and was now lolling out his tongue, and making hideous faces at the smaller children. So intent was he on this, that he did not know he was being watched, until the awful stillness that had settled over the noisy room warned him that something was the matter. Then he faced around in his seat in great haste, to make the discovery that he was the centre of attraction. "Are you quite through with your little exhibition, Bonaparte?" asked the teacher. "Come here! Just as you are--don't take them off." Poor Boney went up with fear and trembling. "I'll settle with you after school, sir. Take a seat on the platform and study your lesson." Boney stumbled to his place, and sat looking at his book, with hot, briny tears stealing down under the huge spectacles. From past experiences he had learned too well what that meant. The school settled down into almost breathless silence, and the guilty couple began to study violently. "I can't get my shoe laced up without his seeing me," whispered Jode, presently. "Oh, leave it off," begged Johnny, "and slip the other one off, too. It feels awful good to get rid of shoes." He stretched out his ten little brown toes, and surveyed them with a satisfied air. "See them feet?" he asked. "Them old feet don't care for nothing but glass. They can stand rocks or anything. Why, in summer, I can tramp down the thorniest kind of bushes, blackberryin', and never mind the briars a bit." "Aw, I wouldn't be such a brag," responded Jode. Nevertheless, he silenced the inward voice that reminded him of his mother's command, and followed his little friend's example. It was soon time for the afternoon recess, and they all went trooping out into the warm sunshine, all but Boney, doomed to solitude and the leather spectacles. Half a dozen boys crossed the playground, and went to the blacksmith shop on the other side of the road. Jode followed slowly, for the sticks and stones hurt his bare feet, and his conscience hurt him more, as he remembered his mother's parting instructions. As usual the good-natured blacksmith was busy at his anvil, and paid no attention to the crowd of boys making themselves at home in his smithy. A seedy-looking stranger on a mule rode up to the door to have a loose shoe fastened in place.