"An unwelcome customer, Jarvis?" inquired the voice of the man in
the fitting room.
"Quite unwelcome," said Jarvis. "I don't want him. I have more
work than I know how to turn out. I wish he would go elsewhere. I
wish--"
He paused. He had seen the page boy. The latter, having undone
his parcel, was holding out a pair of elegant, fawn-coloured
shoes.
"Great Moses!" breathed Jarvis. "He's had the cheek to send them
back again!"
"His excellency--" began the page, when Jarvis snatched the shoes
from his hand and hurled them to the other end of the shop. His
white beard positively bristled.
"Tell his excellency," he shouted, "to go to the devil, with my
compliments!"
So positively ferocious was his aspect that the boy, with
upraised arm, backed hastily out into the street. Safety won:
"Blimey!" exclaimed the youth. "He's the warm goods, he is!"
He paused for several moments, staring in a kind of stupefied
admiration at the closed door of Mr. Jarvis's establishment. He
whistled again, softly, and then began to run--for the formidable
Mr. Jarvis suddenly opened the door. "Hi, boy!" he called to the
page. The page hesitated, glancing back doubtfully. "Tell his
excellency that I will send round in about half an hour to
remeasure his foot."
"D'you mean it?" inquired the boy, impudently--"or is there a
catch in it?"
"I'll tan your hide, my lad!" cried the bootmaker--"and I mean
that! Take my message and keep your mouth shut.
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