When The Shoes Pinched

He walked into a little shoe shop where he has had his work done for years, stood squarely upon a big sheet of white paper in his stocking feet, had the dimensions of each foot marked out with a pencil and his measure was taken. "Why, when we weTe boys, Bob," said a frlend who was with him, "you were a great fellow for snug footwear, and many a time I helped you off with your calfskin boots and saw you pull and to get them on." "I'm all over that tomfoolery now. I want shoes as easy as a wool mitten, and eath new pair is a little larger than the last. You know where Bird Hollow is, slx miles out from the old town. Bateley's young people were givlng a dance out there. and it was the biggest tWng of the season. I rushed around in advance, engaging dances, and didn't let a number get away, I had to throw thlngs together in a hurry at last to catch the sled, and tumbled in just as the whip cracked. When it carne time to get into my pumps I had one of the struggles of my life. When I had conquered, my toes were jammed back, my heels jammed forward, and each foot humped up like a cloeed fist. Before the flrst dance was over I was in mortal agony, but I would endure it rather than let my best girl's dances go to other fellows, who were aching to supplant me. When I hobbled to the floor for the second waltz I was wabbling íifce a man on stllts. I hopped around tike a chicken with frozen feet. I was literally leaden-footed and the lead seemed to be molten. I had to stop or faint, and when I took my pretty partner to a seat as if walking over red hot plow sharee, it was whispered about that I had made too free with hard eider. It required help to get me to the dressing room, where I cut away the vice-like pumps and plunged my Teet into ice cold water that threw off íteam like a blacksmith's tub. I had .aken my brofcher's pumps, and they were three Bizes too small. My friends ;6uldn't keep the joke, and I iailed to eep my girl. I'm a bachelor, but my