ly arranged, about the
climate, products, possibilities, laws, business chances, and
statistics of the country in which the consul had the honour of
representing his own government.

"Write 'em, please, Billy," said that inert official, "just a line,
referring them to the latest consular report. Tell 'em the State
Department will be delighted to furnish the literary gems. Sign my
name. Don't let your pen scratch, Billy; it'll keep me awake."

"Don't snore," said Keogh, amiably, "and I'll do your work for you.
You need a corps of assistants, anyhow. Don't see how you ever get
out a report. Wake up a minute!--here's one more letter--it's from
your own town, too--Dalesburg."

"That so?" murmured Johnny showing a mild and obligatory interest.
"What's it about?"

"Postmaster writes," explained Keogh. "Says a citizen of the town
wants some facts and advice from you. Says the citizen has an idea in
his head of coming down where you are and opening a shoe store. Wants
to know if you think the business would pay. Says he's heard of the
boom along this coast, and wants to get in on the ground floor."

In spite of the heat and his bad temper, Johnny's hammock swayed
with his laughter. Keogh laughed too; and the pet monkey on the top
shelf of the bookcase chattered in shrill sympathy with the ironical
reception of the letter from Dalesburg.

"Great bunions!" exclaimed the consul. "Shoe store! What'll they ask
about next, I wonder? Overcoat factory, I reckon. Say, Billy--of our
3,000 citizens, how many do you suppose ever had on a pair of shoes?"

Keogh reflected judicially.

"Let's see--there's you and me and--"

"Not me," said Johnny, promptly and incorrectly, holding up a foot
encased in a disreputable deerskin _zapato_. "I haven't been a victim
to shoes in months."

"But you've got 'em, though," went on Keogh. "And there's Goodwin
and Blanchard and Geddie and old Lutz and Doc Gregg and that Italian
that's agent for the banana company, and there's old Delgado--no;
he wears sandals. And, oh, yes; there's Madama Ortiz, 'what kapes
the hotel'--she had on a pair of red slippers at the _baile_ the
other night. And Miss Pasa, her daughter, that went to school in
the States--she brought back some civilized notions in the way of
footgear. And there's the _comandante's_ sister that dresses up her
feet on feast-days--and Mrs. Geddie, who wears a two with a Castilian
instep--and that's about all the ladies. Let's see--don't som