“That’s why I wanted you to get a pair of decent shoes for tomorrow,” said the mother, “and I told you to get a nice pair.  I have brushed and pressed your clothes, but you must get a new suit as soon as possible.  Where are your shoes!  I couldn’t find them.”

“I—­didn’t get any shoes, mother.”

“Didn’t get any!  Why not?”

“Well, you see—­I didn’t know about these visitors coming, mother, and so I—­bought some books for most of my money, and so; but mother, don’t get mad—­I—­”

“Books?  What books?  Where are they?”

And then Dorian told her plainly the whole miserable story.  At first the mother was angry, but when she saw the troubled face of her boy, she relented, not wishing to add to his misery.  She even smiled at the calamitous ending of those books.

“My boy, I see that you have been sorely tempted, and I am sorry that you lost your books.  The wetting that Carlia gave you did no harm ... but you must have some shoes by tomorrow.  Wait.”

The mother went to the bureau drawer, opened the lid of a little box, drew from the box a purse, and took from the purse two silver dollars.  She handed them to Dorian.

“Go to town again this afternoon and get some shoes.”

“But, mother, I hate to take your money.  I think I can black my old ones so that they will not look so bad.”

“Blacking will not fill the holes.  Now, you do as I say.  Jump on Nig and go right away.”

Dorian put the money in his pocket, then went out to the yard and slipped a bridle on his horse, mounted, and was back to the house.

“Now, Dorian, remember what I say.  Get you a nice pair, a nice Sunday pair.”

“All right, mother, I will.”

He rode off at a gallop.  He lingered not by creeks or byways, but went directly to the best shoe store in the city, where he made his purchase.  He stopped neither at book store or candy shops.  His horse was sweating when he rode in at the home yard.  His mother hearing him, came out.

“You made quick time,” she said.

“Yes; just to buy a pair of shoes doesn’t take long.”

“You got the right kind?”

“Sure.  Here, look at ’em.”  He handed her the package.

“I can’t look at them now.  Say, Dorian—­” she came out nearer to him—­“They are here.”

“Who, mother?”

“Mrs. Brown and her daughter.  They got a chance to ride out this afternoon, so they did not wait until tomorrow.  Lucky I cleaned up this morning.  Mildred is not a bit well, and she is lying down now.  Don’t make any more noise than you can help.”

“Gee—­but, mother, gosh!” He was very much disturbed.

“They are dear, good people.  They know we are simple farmers.  Just you wash yourself and take off those dirty overalls before you come in.  And then you just behave yourself.  We’re going to have something nice for supper.  Now, don’t be too long with your hoeing or with your chores, for supper will be early this evening.”