"Daniel Froud," she said, when she had sufficiently recovered her breath, "the next time you do that I shall give you notice."

With which dreadful threat, she gathered herself together, and hobbled back to her own quarter of the dingy house, leaving Mr. Froud to bemoan the absurdly easy terms he had made with "the Golden Shoemaker."

"If I had only known!" he moaned; "if I had only known!"

That evening "Cobbler" Horn told his sister what he had done, and why he had done it; and she held up her hands in dismay.

"First," she said, "I don't see why you should have bought the house at all; and, secondly, you have paid far more for it than it is worth."

CHAPTER XIII.

FREE COBBLERY.

"I suppose you'll be looking out for a tenant for this house, when you've found somewhere for us to go?" queried Miss Jemima, at breakfast the next morning.

"Well, no," replied her brother, "I think not." "Why," cried Miss Jemima, "I hope we are not to go on living in this poky little place!"

"No, that is not exactly my intention, either," said "Cobbler" Horn. "We must, I suppose, remove to another house. But I wish this one to remain very much as it is; I shall want to use it sometimes."

"Want to use it sometimes!" echoed Miss Jemima, in a mystified tone.

"Yes; you see I don't feel that I can give up my lifelong employment all at once. So I've been thinking that I'll come to the old workshop, now and then, and do a bit of cobbling just for a change."

Here he paused, and moved uneasily in his chair.

"It wouldn't do to charge anything for my work now, of course," he continued; "so I've made up my mind to do little bits of jobs, now and again, without any pay, for some of the poor people round about, just for the sake of old times, you know."

Miss Jemima's hands went up with their accustomed movement of dismay.

"Why, that will never do," she cried. "You'll have all the thriftless loons in the town bringing you their boots and shoes to mend."

"I must guard against that," was the quiet reply.

"Well," continued Miss Jemima, in an aggrieved tone, "I altogether disapprove of your continuing to work as if you were a poor man. But you ought, at least, to make a small charge. Otherwise you will be imposed upon all round."

Finding, however, that she could not move her brother from his purpose, Miss Jemima relinquished the attempt.

"Well, Thomas," she concluded, "you can never have been intended for this world and its ways. There is probably a vacancy in some quite different one which you ought to have filled."

The next few days were largely spent in house hunting; and, after careful investigation, and much discussion, they decided to take, for the present, a pleasantly situated detached villa, which stood on the road leading out past the field where, so many years ago, "Cobbler" Horn had found his little lost Marian's shoe. The nearness of the house to this spot had induced him, in spite of his sister's protest, to prefer it to several otherwise more eligible residences; and he was confirmed in his decision by the fact that the villa was no great distance from the humble dwelling he was so reluctant to leave. They were to have possession at once; and Miss Jemima was permitted to plunge without delay into the delights of buying furniture, engaging servants, and such like fascinating concerns.

During these busy days, "Cobbler" Horn himself was absorbed in the arrangements for the rehabilitation of his old workshop. He subjected it to a complete renovation, in keeping with its character and use. A new tile floor, a better window, a fresh covering of whitewash on the walls, and a new coat of paint for the wood-work, effected a transformation as agreeable as it was complete. He kept the old stool; but procured a new and modern set of tools, and furnished himself with a stock of the best leather the market could supply.

He had no difficulty in letting his poor customers know of his charitable designs, and he soon had as much work as he could do. As his sister had warned him, he had many applications from those who were unworthy of his help. He did not like to turn any of the applicants away; but he did so remorselessly in every instance in which, after careful investigation, the case broke down, his chief regret being that his gratuitous services were rarely sought by those who needed them most. But this is to antic.i.p.ate.

It was in connection with what was regarded as the _quixotic_ undertaking of Miss Jemima's brother to mend, free of charge, the boots and shoes of his poor neighbours, that he soon became generally known as "Cobbler"

Horn.

CHAPTER XIV.

"THE GOLDEN SHOEMAKER" WAITS UPON HIS MINISTER.

"Cobbler" Horn's correspondence was steadily acc.u.mulating. Every day brought fresh supplies of letters; and the humble cottage was in danger of being swamped by an epistolary inundation, which was the despair of "Cobbler" Horn, and a growing vexation to his sister's order-loving soul.

For some time "the Golden Shoemaker" persisted valiantly in his attempt to answer every letter he received. Miss Jemima's scornful disapproval was of no avail. In vain she declared her conviction that every other letter was an imposture or a hoax, and pointed out that, if people wanted their letters answered, they ought to enclose a stamp. Then, for the twentieth time, she repeated her suggestion that a secretary should be engaged. At first her brother waived this proposal aside; but at length it became imperative that help should be sought. "Cobbler" Horn was like a man who attempts, single-handed, to cut his way through a still-acc.u.mulating snow-drift. The man must perish, if help do not come; unless "Cobbler"

Horn secured a.s.sistance in dealing with his letters, it was impossible to tell what his fate might be. It was now simply a question by what means the needed help might best be obtained; and both "Cobbler" Horn and his sister agreed that the wisest thing would be to consult the minister of their church. This, accordingly, "Cobbler" Horn resolved to do.

"Cobbler" Horn's minister officiated in a sanctuary such as was formerly called a "chapel," but is now, more frequently designated a "church." His name was Durnford; and he was a man of strongly-marked individuality--a G.o.dly, earnest, shrewd, and somewhat eccentric, minister of the Gospel. He was always accessible to his people in their trouble or perplexity, and they came to him without reserve. But surely his advice had never been sought concerning difficulties so peculiar as those which were about to be laid before him by "Cobbler" Horn!

It was about ten o'clock on the Monday morning following his visit to the lawyers, that "Cobbler" Horn sat in Mr. Durnford's study, waiting for the minister to appear. He had not long to wait. The door opened, and Mr.

Durnford entered. He was a middle-aged man of medium height, with keen yet kindly features, and hair and beard of iron grey. He greeted his visitor with unaffected cordiality.

"I've come to ask your advice, sir, under circ.u.mstances of some difficulty," said "Cobbler" Horn, when they were seated facing each other before a cheerful fire.

This being a kind of appeal to which he was accustomed, the minister received the announcement calmly enough.

"Glad to help you, if I can, Mr. Horn," he said.

There was a breeziness about Mr. Durnford which at once afforded preliminary refreshment to such troubled spirits as sought his counsel.

"Thank you, sir," said "Cobbler" Horn, "I'm sure you will. You have heard of the sudden and unexpected----"

"To be sure!" broke in the minister, leaping to his feet, and grasping his visitor's hand, "Pardon me; I quite forgot. Let me congratulate you. Of course it's true?"

"Yes, sir, thank you; it's true--too true, I'm afraid."

Mr. Durnford laughed.

"How if I were to commiserate you, then?" he said.

"No, sir," said "Cobbler" Horn gravely, "not that either. It's the Lord's will after all; and it's a great joy to me to be able to do so much that I have long wished to do. It's the responsibility that I feel."

"Very good," replied the minister; "such joy is the purest pleasure wealth can give. But the responsibility of such a position as yours, is, no doubt, as you say, very great."

"Yes, sir; I feel that I hold all this wealth in trust from G.o.d; and I want to be a faithful steward. I am resolved to use my Lord's money exactly as I believe He desires that I should--in fact as He Himself would use it, if He were in my place."

"Excellent, Mr. Horn!" exclaimed the minister; "you have spoken like a Christian."

"Thank you, sir. But there's another thing; it seems so dreadful that one man should have so much money. Do you know, sir, I'm almost a millionaire?"