"We'd like to see a gentleman named Schlachweiler—Rudolph Schlachweiler," said Pa Keller. 

 "Anything very special?" inquired the proprietor.  "He's—rather busy just now. Wouldn't anybody else do? Of course, if——" 

 "No," growled Keller. 

 The boss turned.  "Hi! Schlachweiler!" he bawled toward the rear of the dim little shop. 

 "Yessir," answered a muffled voice. 

 "Front!" yelled the boss, and withdrew to a safe listening distance. 

 A vaguely troubled look lurked in the depths of Ivy's eyes. From behind the partition of the rear of the shop emerged a tall figure. It was none other than our hero. He was in his shirt-sleeves, and he struggled into his coat as he came forward, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, hurriedly, and swallowing. 

 I have said that the shop was dim. Ivy and her father stood at one side, their backs to the light. Rudie came forward, rubbing his hands together in the manner of clerks. 

 "Something in shoes?" he politely inquired. Then he saw. 

 "Ivy!—ah—Miss Keller!" he exclaimed. Then, awkwardly: "Well, how-do, Mr. Keller. I certainly am glad to see you both. How's the old town? What are you doing in Slatersville?" 

 "Why—Ivy——" began Pa Keller, blunderingly. 

 But Ivy clutched his arm with a warning hand. The vaguely troubled look in her eyes had become wildly so. 

 "Schlachweiler!" shouted the voice of the boss.  "Customers!" and he waved a hand in the direction of the fitting benches. 

 "All right, sir," answered Rudie.  "Just a minute." 

 "Dad had to come on business," said Ivy, hurriedly.  "And he brought me with him. I'm—I'm on my way to school in Cleveland, you know. Awfully glad to have seen you again. We must go. That lady wants her shoes, I'm sure, and your employer is glaring at us. Come, dad." 

 At the door she turned just in time to see Rudie removing the shoe from the pudgy foot of the fat lady customer. 

 

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