THE LITTLE RED SHOES
"Pif-paf Pottrie, what trade are you? Are you a tailor?"
"Better still!" "A shoemaker?"
BROTHERS GRIMM.
THERE was another reason why the children liked Field's shop. At the
back of it was a sort of little room railed off by a low wooden
partition with curtains at the top, into which customers were shown to
try on and be fitted with new boots or shoes. This little room within a
room had always greatly taken Peggy's fancy; she had often talked it
over with her brothers, and wished they could copy it in their nursery.
Inside it had comfortable cushioned seats all round, making it look like
one of the large, square, cushioned pews still to be found in some old
churches, pews which all children who have ever sat in them dearly love.
There was always some excitement in peeping into this little room to
see if any one was already there; if that were the case the children
knew they should have to be "tried on" in the outer shop. To-day,
however, there was no doubt about the matter--Miss Field, who acted as
her father's shop-woman, marshalled them all straight into the curtained
recess without delay; there was no one there--and when Peggy and Hal had
with some difficulty twisted themselves on to the seats with as much
formality as if they were settling themselves in church, and nurse had
explained what they had come for, the girl began operations by taking
off one of Hal's boots to serve as a pattern for his size.
"The same make as these, I suppose?" she asked.
"No, miss, a little thicker, I think. They're to be good strong ones for
country wear," said nurse.
Peggy looked up with surprise.
"For the country, nursie," she said. "He'll have weared them out before
it's time for us to go to the country. It won't be summer for a long
while, and last year we didn't go even when summer comed."
Nurse looked a little vexed. Miss Field, though smiling and
good-natured, was not a special favourite of nurse's; she was too fond
of talking, and she stood there now looking very much amused at Peggy's
remonstrance.
"If you didn't go to the country last year, Miss Margaret," said nurse,
"more reason that you'll go this. But little girls can't know
everything."
Peggy opened her eyes and her mouth. She was just going to ask nurse
what was the matter, which would not have made things better, I am
afraid, when Baby changed the subject by bursting out crying. Poor
Baby--he did not like the little curtained-off room at all; it was
rather dark, and he felt frightened, and as was of course the most
sensible thing to do under the circumstances, as he could not speak, he
cried.
"Dear, dear," said nurse, after vainly trying to soothe him, "he doesn't
like being in here, the poor lamb. He's frightened. I'll never get him
quiet here. Miss Peggy, love," forgetting in her hurry the presence of
Miss Field, for before strangers Peggy was always "Miss Margaret," with
nurse, "I'll have to put him back in his perambulator at the door, and
if you'll stand beside him he'll be quite content."
[Illustration: "Baby did not interrupt her; he was quite content now he
was out in the light and the open air, and amused himself after his own
fashion by crowing and chuckling to the passers-by. So Peggy stood
still, her eyes fixed on the baby shoes. They were of all colours, black
and red and bronze and blue--it was difficult to say which was the
prettiest." p.p. 68-69]
And nurse got up as she spoke. Peggy slid herself down slowly and
reluctantly from her seat; she would have liked to stay and watch Hal
being fitted with boots, and she would have liked still more to ask
nurse what she meant by speaking of the country so long before the time,
but it was Peggy's habit to do what she was told without delay, and she
knew she could ask nurse what she wanted afterwards. So with one
regretful look back at the snug corner where Hal was sitting comfortably
staring at his stockinged toes, she trotted across the shop to the door
where Baby, quite restored to good humour, was being settled in his
carriage.
"There now, he'll be quite happy. Nurse will come soon, dear. Just let
him stay here in the doorway; he can see all the boots and shoes in the
window--that will amuse him."
"Yes," said Peggy, adding in her own mind that she would have a good
look at the dear, tiny dolls' ones and fix which she would like to buy
if she had the money.
Baby did not interrupt her; he was quite content now he was out in the
light and the open air, and amused himself after his own fashion by
crowing and chuckling to the passers-by. So Peggy stood still, her eyes
fixed on the baby shoes. They were of all colours, black and red and
bronze and blue--it was difficult to say which were the prettiest.
Peggy had almost decided upon a red pair, and was wondering how much
money it would take to buy them, when some one touched her on the
shoulder. She looked up; a lady was standing behind her, smiling in
amusement.
"What are you gazing at so, my dear? Is this your baby in the
perambulator? You had better wheel him a little bit farther back, or may
I do so for you?--he has worked himself too far into the doorway."
Peggy looked up questioningly in the lady's face. Like many children she
did not like being spoken to by strangers in any unceremonious way; she
felt as if it were rather a freedom.
But the face that met hers was too kind and bright and pleasant to
resist, and though Peggy still looked grave, it was only that she felt
rather shy.
"Yes," she said, "he's our baby. I was looking at those sweet little
shoes. I didn't see Baby had pushed hisself away. Thank you," as the
lady gently moved the perambulator a little farther to one side.
"You and Baby are not alone? Are you waiting for some one?" she asked.
"Nurse is having Hal tried on for new boots," Peggy replied, "and Baby
didn't like the shop 'cos it were rather dark."
"And so his kind little sister is taking care of him. I see," said the
lady. "And what are the sweet little shoes you like so much to look at?
Are they some that would fit Baby?"
"Oh no," said Peggy, "they'd be too little for him. Baby _is_ rather
fat. Oh no, it's _those_ under the glass basin turned upside down," and
she pointed to the dolls' shoes. "Aren't they lovely? I've seen them
ever since I was quite little--I suppose they'd cost a great lot," and
Peggy sighed.
"Which do you think the prettiest?" asked the lady.
"The red ones," Peggy replied.
"Well, I almost think I agree with you," said the lady. "Good-bye, my
dear, don't let Baby run himself out into the street." And with a kind
smile she went on into the shop.
She passed back again in a few minutes.
"Still there?" she said, nodding to Peggy, and then she made her way
down the street and was soon out of sight. Peggy's attention, since the
lady had warned her, had been entirely given to Baby, otherwise she
might perhaps have noticed a very wonderful thing that had happened in
the shop-window. The pair of red dolls' shoes was no longer there! They
had been quietly withdrawn from the case in which they, with their
companions, had spent a peaceful, but it must be allowed a rather dull
life for some years.
In another minute nurse and Hal made their appearance, and Hal had a
parcel, which he was clutching tightly in both hands.
"My new boots is _so_ shiny," he said, "I do so hope they'll squeak.
Does you think they will, nursie? But isn't poor Peggy to have new
boots, too? _Poor_ Peggy!"
Peggy looked down at her feet.
"Mine isn't wored out yet," she said; "it would take all poor mamma's
money to buy new boots for us _all_."
"Never fear," said nurse, who heard rather a martyr tone in Peggy's
voice, "you'll not be forgotten, Miss Peggy. But Master Hal, hadn't you
better put your boots in the perambulator? You'll be tired of carrying
them, for we're not going straight home."
Hal looked as if he were going to grumble at this, but before he had
time to say anything, Miss Field came hurrying out of the shop.
"Oh, you're still here," she said; "that's all right. The lady who's
just left told father to give this little parcel to missie here," and
she held out something to Peggy, who was so astonished that for a moment
or two she only stared at the girl without offering to take the tiny
packet.
"For me," she said at last.
"Yes, missie, to be sure--for you, as I say."
Peggy took the parcel, and began slowly to undo it. Something red peeped
out--Peggy's eyes glistened--then her cheeks grew nearly as scarlet as
the contents of the packet, and she seemed to gasp for breath, as she
held out for Hal and nurse to see the little red shoes which five
minutes before she had been admiring under the glass shade.
"Nursie, Hal," she exclaimed, "see, oh see! The sweet little shoes--for
me--for my very own."
Nurse was only too ready to be pleased, but with the prudence of a
"grown-up" person she hesitated a moment.
"Are you sure there's no mistake, miss?" she said, anxiously. "Do you
know the lady's name? Is she a friend of Missis's, I wonder?"
The girl shook her head.
"Can't say, I'm sure," she replied. "She's a stranger to us. She only
just bought a pair of cork soles and these here. There's no mistake,
that, I'm sure of. She must have seen the young lady was admiring of
them."
"Yes," said Peggy, "she asked me which was the prettiest, and I said the
red ones."
"You see?" said Miss Field to nurse. "Well, missie, I hope as they'll
fit Miss Dolly, and then you'll give us your custom when they're worn
out, won't you?"
And with a good-natured laugh she turned back into the shop.
"It's all right, nursie, isn't it? Do say it is. I may keep them; they
_is_ mine, isn't they?" said Peggy, in very unusual excitement.
Nurse still looked undecided.
"I don't quite know what to say, my dear," she replied. "We must ask
your mamma. I shouldn't think she'd object, seeing as it was so kindly
meant. And we can't give back the shoes now they're bought and paid for.
It wouldn't be fair to the lady to give them back to Field just to be
sold again. It wasn't _him_ she wanted to give a present to."
"No," said Peggy, trotting along beside the perambulator and clasping
her little parcel as Hal was clasping his bigger one, "it was _me_ she
wanted to please. She's a _very_ kind lady, isn't she, nursie? I'm sure
they cost a great lot of money--p'raps a pound. Oh! I do so hope mamma
will say I may keep them for my very own. Can't we go home now this
minute to ask her?"
"We shouldn't find her in if we did," said nurse, "and we've had nothing
of a walk so far. But don't you worry, Miss Peggy. I'm sure your mamma
will not mind."
Peggy's anxious eager little face calmed down at this; a corner of the
paper in which her treasures were wrapped up was torn. She saw the
scarlet leather peeping out, and a gleam of delight danced out of her
eyes; she bent her head down and kissed the speck of bright colour
ecstatically, murmuring to herself as she did so, "Oh, how happy I am!"
Nurse overheard the words.
"Missis will never have the heart to take them from her, poor dear," she
thought. "She'll be only too pleased for Miss Peggy to have something to
cheer her up when she has to be told about our going."
And Peggy, in blissful ignorance of any threatening cloud to spoil her
pleasure, marched on, scarcely feeling the ground beneath her feet; as
happy as if the tiny red shoes had been a pair of fairy ones to fit her
own little feet.
Mamma was not at home when they got in, even though they made a pretty
long round, coming back by Fernley Road, which, however, Peggy did not
care about as much as when they set off by it. For coming back, of
course she could not see the hills without turning round, nor could she
have the feeling that every step was taking her nearer to them. The
weather was clearing when they came in; from the nursery window the sky
towards the west had a faint flush upon it, which looked as if the
sunset were going to be a rosy one.
"Red at night," Peggy said to herself as she glanced out; "nursie, that
means a fine day, doesn't it?"
"So they say," nurse replied.
"Then it'll be a fine day to-morrow, and I'll see the cottage, and I'll
put the little shoes on the window-sill, so that they shall see it
too--the _dear_ little sweets," chattered the child to herself.
Hal meanwhile was seated on the floor, engaged in a more practical way,
namely, _trying_ to try on his new boots. But "new boots," as he said
himself, "is stiff." Hal pulled and tugged till he grew very red in the
face, but all in vain.
"Oh, Peggy!" he said, "do help me. I does so want to hear them squeak,
and to 'upprise the boys when they come in."
Down went kind Peggy on the floor, and thanks to her the boots were got
on, though the buttoning of them was beyond her skill. Hal was quite
happy, though.
"They do squeak, don't they, Peggy?" he said; "and nurse'll let me wear
them a little for them to get used to my feet 'afore we go to the
country."
"You mean for your feet to get used to them, Hallie," said Peggy. "But
there's lots of time for that. Why, they'll be half wored out before we
go to the country if you begin them now."
"'Tisn't nonsense," said Hal, sturdily. "Nurse said so to that girl in
the shop."
Peggy felt very puzzled.
"But, Hal," she was beginning, when a voice interrupted her. It was
nurse. She had been downstairs, having heard the front door bell ring.
"Miss Peggy, your mamma wants you. She's come in. You'll find her in her
own room."
"Nursie," she said, "Hal's been saying----"
"You mustn't keep your mamma waiting," said nurse. "I've told her about
the little shoes."
"I'll take them to show her--won't she be pleased?" said Peggy, seizing
the little parcel which she had put down while helping Hal.
And off she set.
She stopped at her mother's door; it was only half shut, so she did not
need to knock.
"Mamma dear, it's me--Peggy," she said.
"Come in, darling," mamma's voice replied.
"I've brought you the _sweet_ little red shoes to see," said Peggy,
carefully unfolding the paper which held her treasures, and holding them
out for mamma's admiration.
"They are very pretty indeed--really lovely little shoes," she said,
handling them with care, but so as to see them thoroughly. "It was
_very_ kind of that lady. I wonder who she was? Of course in a general
way I wouldn't like you to take presents from strangers, but she must
have done it in such a very nice way. Was she an old lady, Peggy?"
"Oh yes!" said Peggy, "quite old. She was neely as big as you, mamma
dear. I daresay she's _neely_ as old as you are."
Mamma began to laugh.
"You little goose," she said. But Peggy didn't see anything to laugh at
in what she had said, and her face remained quite sober.
"I don't understand you, mamma dear," she said.
"Well, listen then; didn't Hal buy a pair of new boots for himself
to-day?" mamma began.
"No, mamma dear. Nurse buyed them _for_ he," Peggy replied.
"Or rather _I_ bought them, for it was my money nurse paid for them
with, if you are so very precise, Miss Peggy. But never mind about that.
All I want you to understand is the difference between 'big' and 'old.'
Hal's boots are much bigger than these tiny things, but they are not on
that account _older_."
Peggy began to laugh.
"No, mamma dear. P'raps Hallie's boots is younger than my sweet little
red shoes, for they has been a great long while in the shop window, and
Baldwin and Terry sawed them when they was little."
"Not 'younger,' Peggy dear; 'newer,' you mean. Boots aren't alive. You
only speak of live things as 'young.'"
Peggy sighed.
"It is rather difficult to understand, mamma dear."
"It will all come by degrees," said mamma. "When I was a little girl I
know I thought for a long time that the moon was the mamma of the stars,
because she looked so much bigger."
"I think that's very nice, mamma, though, of course, I understand it's
only a _fancy_ fancy. I haven't seen the moon for a long time, mamma.
May I ask nurse to wake me up the next time the moon comes?"
"You needn't wait till dark to see the moon," said mamma. "She can often
be seen by daylight, though, of course, she doesn't look so pretty then,
as in the dark sky which shows her off better. But, of course, the sky
here is so often dull with the smoke of the town that we can't see her
as clearly in the daytime as where the air is purer."
"Like in the country, mamma," said Peggy. "It's _always_ clear in the
country, isn't it?"
"Not quite always," said mamma, smiling. "But, Peggy dear, speaking of
the country----"
"Oh yes!" Peggy interrupted, "I want to tell you, mamma, what a silly
thing Hallie _would_ say about going to the country;" and she told her
mother all that Hal had said about his boots, and indeed what nurse had
said too; "and nursie was just a weeay, teeny bit cross to me, mamma
dear," said Peggy, plaintively. "She wouldn't say she'd mistooked about
it."
Mamma looked rather grave, and instead of saying at once that of course
nurse had only meant that Hal's boots should last till the summer, she
took Peggy on her knee and kissed her--kissed her in rather a "funny"
way, thought Peggy, so that she looked up and said--
"Mamma dear, why do you kiss me like that?"
Instead of answering, mamma kissed her again, which almost made Peggy
laugh.
But mamma was not laughing.
"My own little Peggy," she said, "I have something to tell you which I
am afraid will make you unhappy. It is making _me_ very unhappy, I
know."
"Poor dear little mamma," said Peggy, and as she spoke she put up her
little hand and stroked her mother's face. "Don't be unhappy if it isn't
anything _very_ bad. Tell Peggy about it, mamma dear."