"Stubbs! Stubbs!" every one cried out, while I was so busy at my book as
not to hear a word.

At last, two of the biggest chaps rushed into the schoolroom, and
seizing each an arm, run me into the playground--bolt up against the
shoemaker.

"Dis is my man. I beg your lortship's pardon," says he, "I have brought
your lortship's shoes, vich you left. See, dey have been in dis parcel
ever since you vent avay in my boots."

"Shoes, fellow!" says I. "I never saw your face before!" For I knew
there was nothing for it but brazening it out. "Upon the honor of a
gentleman!" said I, turning round to the boys. They hesitated; and if
the trick had turned in my favor, fifty of them would have seized hold
of Stiffelkind and drubbed him soundly.

"Stop!" says Bunting (hang him!) "Let's see the shoes. If they fit him,
why then the cobbler's right." They did fit me; and not only that, but
the name of STUBBS was written in them at full length.

"Vat!" said Stiffelkind. "Is he not a lort? So help me Himmel, I never
did vonce tink of looking at de shoes, which have been lying ever since
in dis piece of brown paper." And then, gathering anger as he went on,
he thundered out so much of his abuse of me, in his German-English, that
the boys roared with laughter. Swishtail came in in the midst of the
disturbance, and asked what the noise meant.

"It's only Lord Cornwallis, sir," said the boys, "battling with his
shoemaker about the price of a pair of top-boots."