"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 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
dear life.

"I vant Lort Cornvallis," said the horrid bootmaker. "His lortship
belongs, I know, to dis honorable school, for I saw him vid de boys at
chorch yesterday."

"Lord who?"

"Vy, Lort Cornvallis to be sure--a very fat yong nobeman, vid red hair:
he squints a little, and svears dreadfully."

"There's no Lord Cornvallis here," said one; and there was a pause.

"Stop! I have it," says that odious Bunting. "IT MUST BE STUBBS!" And