roast for dinner, or the breast and wing of a fowl;
and he made Pinkey eat it in his presence, so that he could take the
plates home to wash. One Sunday he was so late that Mrs Partridge fell
back on pig's cheek; but he arrived, with a suspicious swelling under
his eye. He explained briefly that there had been an accident. They
learned afterwards than an ill-advised wag in the street had asked him
if he were feeding Pinkey up for the show. During the two rounds that
followed, Chook had accidentally stepped on the plates.

Whenever Ada met Pinkey, she wanted to know how things were
progressing; but Pinkey could turn like a hare from undesirable
questions.

"Are you an' 'im goin' to git spliced?" she inquired, for the hundredth
time.

"I dunno," said Pinkey, turning scarlet; "'e sez we are."

END OF PART I.

PART 2

THE SIGN OF THE "SILVER SHOE"

CHAPTER 12

THE SIGN OF THE "SILVER SHOE"

The suburban trains slid into the darkness of the tunnel at Cleveland
Street, and, as they emerged into daylight on the other side, paused
for a moment like intelligent animals before the spider's web of
shining rails that curved into the terminus, as if to choose the pair
that would carry them in safety to the platform. It was in this pause
that the passengers on the left looked out with an upward jerk of the
head, and saw that the sun had found a new plaything in Regent Street.

It was the model of a shoe, fifteen feet long, the hugest thing within
sight, covered with silver leaf that glittered like metal in the
morning sun. A gang of men had hoisted it into position last night by
the flare of naphtha lamps, and now it trod securely on air above the
new bootshop whose advertisement sprawled across half a page of the
morning paper.

In Regent Street a week of painting and hammering had prepared them for
surprises; two shops had been knocked into one, with two plate-glass
windows framed in brass, and now the shop with its triumphant sign
caught the eye like a check suit or a red umbrella. Every inch of the
walls was covered with lettering in silver leaf, and across the front
in huge characters ran the sign:

JONAH'S SILVER SHOE EMPORIUM

Meanwhile, the shop was closed, the windows obscured by blinds; but the
children, attracted by the noise of hammering, flattened their noses
against the plate glass, trying to spy out the busy privacy within.
Evening fell, and the hammering ceased. Th