Mrs. H. Harrison Wells's Shoes
where, as shown by the old shoes, the defendant was accustomed to wear them out first, and on which side she ran the heels down, which had nothing to do with the case, but would make interesting reading. He told how fine and soft the material was, and ended that paragraph with, "However, most New York women would not want these shoes. They could not use them;" which was true.
"What rot!" thought Linton as he wrote it, but it was the sort of thing The Day liked, just as The Earth's story was not; the latter said, "Of course a member of the 400 could not wear ready-made shoes. Mercy, no!" And things of that silly sort.
Then Linton showed, with interpolated dialogue, written in short paragraphs which are apt to look readable glancing down the column, how the earnest little shoemaker became easily tangled up in cross-examination by the young lawyer, whom Linton could not help patronizing a little by the way, then concluded with the carriage-door slamming and the horses clattering off, while the shoemaker went back to his shop, and
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