welted, with whole fronts, and Michael has made soft slippers with
single soles, and has wasted the leather. What am I to say to the
gentleman? I can never replace leather such as this."

And he said to Michael, "What are you doing, friend? You have ruined me!
You know the gentleman ordered high boots, but see what you have made!"

Hardly had he begun to rebuke Michael, when "rat-tat" went the iron
ring that hung at the door. Some one was knocking. They looked out
of the window; a man had come on horseback, and was fastening his
horse. They opened the door, and the servant who had been with the
gentleman came in.

"Good day," said he.

Good day," replied Simon. "What can we do for you?"

"My mistress has sent me about the boots."

"What about the boots?"

"Why, my master no longer needs them. He is dead."

"Is it possible?"

"He did not live to get home after leaving you, but died in the
carriage. When we reached home and the servants came to help him
alight, he rolled over like a sack. He was dead already, and so
stiff that he could hardly be got out of the carriage. My mistress
sent me here, saying: 'Tell the bootmaker that the gentleman who