illingly, and hurried along with Pat, past
many attractive groups, not even stopping where a brewer's horse had
fallen on the ground, till Pat brought him in triumph to the gaudy
window of a shoe-shop, lighted up gayly and full of the wares by which
even shoe-shops lure in customers for Christmas.

"See there!" said Pat, nearly breathless. And he pointed to the very
centre of the display, a pair of slippers made from bronze-gilt kid, and
displaying a hideous blue silk bow upon the gilding. For what class of
dancers or of maskers these slippers may have been made, or by what
canon of beauty, I know not. Only they were the centre of decoration in
the shoe-shop window. Pat looked at them with admiration, as he had
often done, and said again to Bill Floyd, "See there, ain't them
handsome?"

"Golly!" said Bill, "I guess so."

"Bill, let's buy them little shoes, and give 'em to her."

"Give 'em to who?" said Bill, from whose mind the Christmas-tree had for
the moment faded, under the rivalry of the hose company, the brewer's
horse, and the shop window. "Give 'em to who?"

"Why, her, I don't know who she is. The gal that made the
what-do-ye-call-it, the tree, you know, and give us the oranges, where
old Purdy was. I say, Bill, it was a mean dirty shame to make such a row
there, when we was bid to a party; and I want to make the gal a present,
for I see her crying, Bill. Crying cos it was such a row." Again, I omit
certain profane expressions which did not add any real energy to the
declaration.

"They is handsome," said Bill, meditatingly. "Ain't the blue ones
handsomest?"

"No," said Pat, who saw he had gained his lodgment, and that the
carrying his point was now only a matter of time. "The gould ones is the
ones for me. We'll give 'em to the gal for a Christmas present, you and
I and Tom Mulligan."

Bill Floyd did not dissent, being indeed in the habit of going as he
was led, as were most of the "rebel rout" with whom he had an hour ago
been acting. He assented entirely to Pat's proposal. By "Christmas" both
parties understood that the present was to be made before Twelfth Night,
not necessarily on Christmas day. Neither of them had a penny; but both
of them knew, perfectly well, that whenever they chose to get a little
money they could do so.

They soon solved their first question, as to the cost of the coveted
slippers. True, they knew, of course, that they would be ejected from
the decent shop if they went in