"Say--uh--if I may be so bold and just suggest it, we'd be honored if you and the madam could take dinner at our house and tell us about your trip. The wife and me was talking about it just this morning. The wife said, guessed we'd have to pike out and do the same thing! Hee, hee! And Doc Schergan--fine bright man the doc, very able and cultured and educated--he's crazy to meet you. We were talking about you just this morning--read about your heading this way, in the Indianapolis paper. Say," he leaned forward and whispered, after a look at his clerk which ought to have exterminated that unadventurous youth--"say, is it true what they say, that you're doing this on a ten-thousand-dollar bet?" "Well," and Father thawed a little, "that's what they're all saying, but, confidentially, and don't let this go any further, it isn't as much as that. This is between you and I, now." "Oh yessss," breathed the flattered shoeman. "There's your shoes, Mr. Appleby. Four dollars, please. Thank you. And let me tell you, confidentially, you got the best bargain in the store. I can see with half an eye you've learned a lot about shoes. I suppose it's only natural, tramping and wearing them out so fast and visiting the big burgs and all--" "Huh! Ought to know shoes. Used to be in business. Pilkings & Son's, little old New York. Me and old Pilky practically started the business together, as you might say." "Well, well, well, well!" The shoeman stared in reverent amazement. Then, as he could think of nothing further to say, he justly observed, "Well!" "Yump. That reminds me. Make that boy of yours rearrange that counter case there. Those pink-satin evening slippers simply lose all their display value when you stick those red-kid bed-slippers right up ferninst them that way. "Yes, yes, that's so. I'm much obliged to you for the tip, Mr. Appleby. That's what it is to be trained in a big burg. But I'll have to rearrange it myself. That boy Peter is no good. I'm letting him go, come Saturday." "That so?" said Father; then, authoritatively: "Peter, my boy, you ought to try to make good here. Nothing I'd like better--if I had the time--than to grow up in a shoe-store in a nice, pretty village like this." "Yes, that's what I've told him many's the time. Do you hear what Mr. Appleby says, Peter?... Say, Mr. Appleby, does this town really strike you as having the future for the shoe business?" "Why, sure." "Are you ever likely to think about going back into the shoe business again, some day? 'Course," apologetically, "you wouldn't ever want to touch anything in as small a burg as this, but in a way it's kind of a pity. I was just thinking of how the youngsters here would flock to have you give 'em your expert advice as a sporting gentleman, instead of hanging around that cheap-John shoe-store that those confounded worthless Simpson boys try to run."