Mr. Rosenheim himself came and stood by Peter when he was trying on the shoes.
"My wife was showing me the piece about you in the magazine," he said. "I guess you are the first man in Riverbank to get into magazines. We should be proud of you, Lane."
"Oh, sure! I read some of it. Some such Art and Crafts magazine, with photo cuts from them toys you make. Ain't you seen it?"
"Nope! Let me try on a seven and a half B," he said calmly, but his pulse quickened.
"Well, I suppose you are used to being puffed up already," said Mr. Rosenheim. "I wish I could get such free advertising."
When Peter looked at himself in the store mirror he was well satisfied. Mr. Rosenheim nodded his approval.
"That suit looks like it was made for you, Mr. Lane," he said, and he did not know what a great truth he was uttering, for Peter, so long in rags, and the simple, quiet suit seemed well fitted for each other's company. Peter went out upon the street, and at the first corner he met--Booge!
He was the same old, frowsy, hairy Booge, and he greeted Peter in the same deep bass.
"Did you get the papers, to rescue the cheeild?" he asked melodramatically. "I hid them under the stone at the corner of the lane. Meet me at midnight! Hush! A stranger approaches!"
There were several strangers approaching, for they were standing on the corner of the two principal streets. Peter grinned.
"George Rapp brought it down to me," he said. "I thought you were in for six months."
"Sheriff discharged me," said Booge. "I ate too much. He couldn't figure a profit, so he kicked me out."
"No, teacher excused me at noon so I could go to dancing class," said Booge.
"How did you get out?" Peter insisted. "There wasn't room for me and Briggles in the same jail," said Booge. "We was always singin' out of harmony."
"They caught the old kazoozer, kazoozer, kazoozer, They caught the old kazoozer and took him to the jail,"
hummed Booge, "and I got excused so I could go and hunt up Susie: I was her responsible guardian. Ain't that a joke?"
"What are you going to do now?" asked Peter.
"I dunno!" said Booge thoughtfully. "I ain't made up my mind whether to run for mayor or buy the op'ry house, but if anybody was to give me a nickel I'd give up whisky and buy beer. If not, I'll stand around here 'til I _do_ get arrested. The town cop has promised and promised to do it, but he ain't reliable. I've got so I don't depend on his word no more."