s, and apprenticing your son, for a bit in
the shade, and then Dicky said it was time to set sail if we meant to
make the port of Canterbury that night. Of course, pilgrims reck not of
ports, but Dicky never does play the game thoughtfully.

We went on. I believe we should have got to Canterbury all right and
quite early, only Denny got paler and paler, and presently Oswald saw,
beyond any doubt, that he was beginning to walk lame.

"Shoes hurt you, Dentist?" he said, still with kind, striving
cheerfulness.

"Not much--it's all right," returned the other.

So on we went--but we were all a bit tired now--and the sun was hotter
and hotter; the clouds had gone away. We had to begin to sing to keep up
our spirits. We sang "The British Grenadiers" and "John Brown's Body,"
which is grand to march to, and a lot of others. We were just starting
on "Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching," when Denny stopped
short. He stood first on one foot and then on the other, and suddenly
screwed up his face and put his knuckles in his eyes and sat down on a
heap of stones by the road-side.

When we pulled his hands down he was actually crying. The author does
not wish to say it is babyish to cry.

"Whatever is up?" we all asked, and Daisy and Dora petted him to get him
to say, but he only went on howling, and said it was nothing, only would
we go on and leave him, and call for him as we came back.

Oswald thought very likely something had given Denny the stomach-ache,
and he did not like to say so before all of us, so he sent the others
away and told them to walk on a bit.

Then he said, "Now, Denny, don't be a young ass. What is it? _Is_ it
stomach-ache?"

And Denny stopped crying to say "No!" as loud as he could.

"Well, then," Oswald said, "look here, you're spoiling the whole thing.
Don't be a jackape, Denny. What is it?"

"You won't tell the others if I tell you?"

"Not if you say not," Oswald answered in kindly tones.

"Well, it's my shoes."

"Take them off, man."

"You won't laugh?"

"NO!" cried Oswald, so impatiently that the others looked back to see
why he was shouting. He waved them away, and with humble gentleness
began to undo the black tape sandals. Denny let him, crying hard all the
time.

When Oswald had got off the first shoe the mystery was made plain to
him.

"Well! Of all the--," he said in proper indignation.

Denny quailed--though he said he did not--but then he doesn't know what
quailing