Quality and Others | Page 6

the feeling: "Oh! well, I can't leave the old boy--so
here goes! Perhaps it'll be his elder brother!"
For his elder brother, I knew, had not character enough to reproach me,
even dumbly.
And, to my relief, in the shop there did appear to be his elder brother,
handling a piece of leather.
"Well, Mr. Gessler," I said, "how are you?"
He came close, and peered at me.
"I am breddy well," he said slowly "but my elder brudder is dead."
And I saw that it was indeed himself--but how aged and wan! And

never before had I heard him mention his brother. Much shocked; I
murmured: "Oh! I am sorry!"
"Yes," he answered, "he was a good man, he made a good bood; but he
is dead." And he touched the top of his head, where the hair had
suddenly gone as thin as it had been on that of his poor brother, to
indicate, I suppose, the cause of death. "He could nod ged over losing
de oder shop. Do you wand any hoods?" And he held up the leather in
his hand: "Id's a beaudiful biece."
I ordered several pairs. It was very long before they came--but they
were better than ever. One simply could not wear them out. And soon
after that I went abroad.
It was over a year before I was again in London. And the first shop I
went to was my old friend's. I had left a man of sixty, I came back to
one of seventy-five, pinched and worn and tremulous, who genuinely,
this time, did not at first know me.
"Oh! Mr. Gessler," I said, sick at heart; "how splendid your boots are!
See, I've been wearing this pair nearly all the time I've been abroad; and
they're not half worn out, are they?"
He looked long at my boots--a pair of Russia leather, and his face
seemed to regain steadiness. Putting his hand on my instep, he said:
"Do dey vid you here? I 'ad drouble wid dat bair, I remember."
I assured him that they had fitted beautifully.
"Do you wand any boods?" he said. "I can make dem quickly; id is a
slack dime."
I answered: "Please, please! I want boots all round--every kind!"
"I will make a vresh model. Your food must be bigger." And with utter
slowness, he traced round my foot, and felt my toes, only once looking
up to say:
"Did I dell you my brudder was dead?"
To watch him was painful, so feeble had he grown; I was glad to get
away.
I had given those boots up, when one evening they came. Opening the
parcel, I set the four pairs out in a row. Then one by one I tried them on.
There was no doubt about it. In shape and fit, in finish and quality of
leather, they were the best he had ever made me. And in the mouth of
one of the Town walking-boots I found his bill.
The amount was the same as usual, but it gave me quite a shock. He

had never before sent it in till quarter day. I flew down-stairs, and wrote
a cheque, and posted it at once with my own hand.
A week later, passing the little street, I thought I would go in and tell
him how splendidly the new boots fitted. But when I came to where his
shop had been, his name was gone. Still there, in the window, were the
slim pumps, the patent leathers with cloth tops, the sooty riding boots.
I went in, very much disturbed. In the two little shops--again made into
one--was a young man with an English face.
"Mr. Gessler in?" I said.
He gave me a strange, ingratiating look.
"No, sir," he said, "no. But we can attend to anything with pleasure.
We've taken the shop over. You've seen our name, no doubt, next door.
We make for some very good people."
"Yes, Yes," I said; "but Mr. Gessler?"
"Oh!" he answered; "dead."
"Dead! But I only received these boots from him last Wednesday
week."
"Ah!" he said; "a shockin' go. Poor old man starved 'imself."
"Good God!"
"Slow starvation, the doctor called it! You see he went to work in such
a way! Would keep the shop on; wouldn't have a soul touch his boots
except himself. When he got an order, it took him such a time. People
won't wait. He lost everybody. And there he'd sit, goin' on and on--I
will say that for him not a man in London made a better boot! But look
at the competition! He never advertised! Would 'ave the best leather,
too, and do it all 'imself. Well, there it is. What could you expect with
his ideas?"
"But starvation----!"
"That may be