I dare say. But you oughtn't to have taken the trouble to bring my shoes in!"
"I wasn't altogether disinterested in it," he returned. "I wished you to compliment me on them. Don't you think they are pretty well done, for an amateur?" He came toward my bed, and turned them about in his hands, so that they would catch the light, and smiled down upon me.
"I don't understand," I began.
"Why," he said, "I blacked them, you know."
"You blacked them!"
"Yes," he returned, easily. "I thought I would go into the baggage-room, after we parted last night, to look for a piece of mine that had not been taken to my room, and I found the porter there, with his wrist bound up. He said he had strained it in handling a lady's Saratoga—he said a Saratoga was a large trunk—and I begged him to let me relieve him at the boots he was blacking. He refused, at first, but I insisted upon trying my hand at a pair, and then he let me go on with the men's boots; he said he could varnish the ladies' without hurting his wrist. It needed less skill than I supposed, and after I had done a few pairs he said I could black boots as well as he."
