These he saved carefully from day to day to lay the dust before sweeping.

When the bench and the shop were swept clean, he looked round with mild satisfaction.
Once a week, in this manner, he gratified his passion for order and neatness; but when work began, everything fell into disorder, and he wasted hours peering over the bench with his short sight for tools that lay under his nose, buried in a heap of litter.
The peculiar musty odour of leather hung about the shop.

A few pairs of boots that had been mended stood in a row, the shining black rim of the new soles contrasting with the worn, dingy uppers--the patched and mended shoes of the poor, who must wear them while upper and sole hang together.

They betrayed the age and sex of the wearer as clearly as a photograph.

The shoddy slipper, with the high, French heels, of the smart shop-girl; the heavy bluchers, studded with nails, of the labourer; the light tan boots, with elegant, pointed toes, of the clerk or counter-jumper; the shoes of a small child, with a thin rim of copper to protect the toes.
For the first time since he was on piecework, Jonah set out for the shop on Monday morning; but when he walked in, Paasch met him with a look of surprise, thinking he had mistaken the day of the week.