much less
splendid people than they had latterly become. He had never greatly
desired their acquaintance when it was unattainable; and, now that it was
being thrust upon him, he desired it even less than before. There was no
reason why he should be intimate with this man. On what grounds had he
called? "Cobbler" Horn could not refrain from regarding the visit as being
an impertinence.

"My dear Jemima," he said, "I must be going at once. These people cannot
have any business with me; and I have a good deal of work to do. You have
received the other people; and you can manage these. But, Jemima, do not
encourage them to come again!"

So saying, he moved towards the door; but Miss Jemima placed an agitated
hand upon his arm.

"Thomas," she cried, "what shall I say to them?"

"Tell them I am obliged to go out. Do you think it would be right to keep
my poor people waiting for their boots and shoes, while I spent the time
in idle ceremony?"

Miss Jemima ceased to remonstrate, and her brother again moved towards the
door. But, before he reached it, a servant appeared with the cards of Mr.
and Mrs. Brownlow, who were by this time installed in the drawing-room.
Miss Jemima took the cards, and "Cobbler" Horn made for the front-door.

"Not that way, Thomas!" she cried after him. "They'll see you!"

"Cobbler" Horn looked around in surprise.

"Why not, my dear? They will thus perceive that I have really gone out."

The next moment he was gone, and Miss Jemima was left to face the visitors
with the best excuses she could frame.

The question of returning the numerous calls they had received occasioned
much perplexity to Miss Jemima's mind. Nothing would induce her brother
to accompany her on any expedition of the kind. While, therefore, in some
cases, she was able to go by herself, in others she was obliged to refrain
from going altogether, and, as a matter of course, offence was given. The
natural consequence was that the number of callers rapidly diminished, and
"the Golden Shoemaker's" reputation for eccentricity was thoroughly
established.

"Cobbler" Horn very rarely consented to see any company who came merely to
pay a call. But one afternoon, when his sister was out, he went into the
drawing-room to excuse her absence, and, in fact, to dismiss the callers.

"My sister is not at home, ma'am," he said, addressing the buxom and
magnificent lady, who, with her two slender and humble-looking sons, had
awaited his comi