“Well,” said Billy, at last, with the air of one who was entirely unbosoming himself, “I’ll tell you how it was, dad.  Down at Price’s store there’s a long string of shoes out at the door.  They use ’em as a sign, don’t you know?”

“Yes,” said the father carelessly; “I’ve seen such signs.  Go on.”

“Well, I need shoes awfully, you know, an’ I’ve been tellin’ the mother about it for a week or ten days, an’ she said she was tellin’ you.  But my feet gets awful cold late at nights and early in the mornin’s.  An’ I didn’t want to bother you, knowin’ that you hadn’t any money to spare, ’cause the mother told me ‘bout that too, an’ cried about it.  Well, it blowed like ev’rythin’ this afternoon as I was goin’ towards Price’s, an’ that string of shoes just whirled around like a kite-tail, an’ at last the bottom pair flew off into the street.  An’ I picked ’em up.”

“Findin’s is keepin’s,” said Mrs. Kimper.

“Give me them shoes, my boy,” said the ex-convict.

“You’re goin’ to take ’em away from me?  Have I got to have cold feet some more?” said Billy, appealingly.

Sam thrust his hand into his trousers-pocket, took out a very thin wad of green paper, looked at it, and finally said, “No, I s’pose not.”  Nevertheless he and the shoes disappeared from the house.

In a short time Mr. Price, the owner of one of the village stores, received a call from the ex-convict, who said,—­

“Mr. Price, one o’ my boys found a pair o’ shoes in the street in front o’ your store this afternoon durin’ the hard blow, an’, as they just fitted him, I came around to pay you for them.  How much are they?”

Several men were standing about the stove in Price’s store, the fire having just started for the autumn and winter season, and, as they heard Sam’s remark, one of them uttered a long combination of word and whistle that sounded very much like “Whew-w?” Sam turned quickly, recognized the man as one whom he knew to be not over-honest, and said,—­

“When you pay for ev’rythin’ you get it’ll be time to make fun of somebody else.  But, Mr. Price, what I asked you was, what’s the price o’ them shoes?”

The storekeeper was so astonished at such a question from a member of the Kimper family that, looking at shoes of the same quality which were lying in a box behind the counter, he actually mistook the cost-mark for the selling-price, and replied, “Only a dollar and a quarter, Mr. Kimper.”

Sam laid down the money, received some change, and departed, while the men who were lounging about the store began an active conversation as to whether that man was the fool he looked or whether he was not perhaps a regular sharper whose natural abilities and inclinations had been cultivated during the two years he was in State prison.  They understood, those evening loafers, that prisons were nominally for the purpose of reforming criminals, but they had known a great many criminals themselves, and their astonishment at seeing one who apparently desired to do better than in his past life, and to make amends for the misdeeds of his family, was so great that the conversation which ensued after the exit of the ex-convict was very fragmentary and not at all to the point.