Morris took the dainty shoe and went to work at it, blind to the blandishments that come so natural to a woman of her class--so natural that they are tried upon every man whosoever he may be. Dora took Loney upstairs, to give him something to eat, and incidentally to add a few touches to her toilet, for was not Bennie coming? Bennie, whom Dora loved next to her father, and somewhat more than Loney; Bennie, the bright, clever and industrious young man whose heart was fixed upon the pretty Dora. Muriel suddenly turned in her chair so as to face the shoemaker, who was busily at work, and said, in a strident voice: “Say, do you know, I like you?” The man before her was so surprised by this remark that he let his work fall and looked at her, but she had turned her head, and asked: “Say, do you know why I like you?” The man hastily reflected that it could not be for his money, and a dim idea dawned upon him that he must be a rather nice-looking man, and--he simpered a little as he sheepishly replied: “Sure, I know. I am not so bad-looking yet.” “No, not that; but it is because you are living here in this God-forsaken cellar that isn’t fit for rats, living from hand to mouth, and yet you take in and feed that half-witted boy that you told your daughter to give some gonsalabus, whatever that is. It must be good, though, for I saw the little chap’s look of pleasure. That’s why.” “Vot de poy get? Yust a place to sleep, someding to eat unt run errants. He don’t cost much, led him stay. I am from a family who will always help dose who neet it. Our mutter raised us dat vay.” Muriel looked at the shoemaker with sincere and open admiration while she said: “I guess it’s you all right. Those things must be in the heart, or they wouldn’t come out.” The shoemaker, with a smothered sigh, picked up the dainty shoe and started again to fit the high heel into its place, when he thought of a brilliant remark; and he made it: “Yes, lady; der same as der measles.” “I guess that’s right,” replied Muriel. “Dot is only right dot we shall help oder peoples vot is worser off dan ve are. Der same Gott is ofer us all, and I can nefer forget dot I haf ein daughter of mine, und dot if anyt’ing effer happen to her I shall vant somepody’s fader to do py mein child as I do py deirs. Here is your shoe, lady; it is fixet.” “Put it on, please,” said Muriel, holding out her shapely foot. The shoemaker drew back. He had fitted on many a shoe for the dwellers of that neighborhood, and it never occurred to him to be afraid nor ashamed, but this was different. He put powder in the shoe, and all over the extended foot in his confusion, but at last the shoe was on. Muriel stamped the foot a couple of times and asked how much it was. The man stammered: “Nodings, nodings. I put it down to profit und loss.”