And they come next.

Don't you think it's an honour to keep the feet of such a good man dry and warm as he goes about from morning to night comforting people?
Don't you think it's an honour to mend boots for _him_, even if they should be dirty ?" "Oh, yes--for _papa_!" said Willie, as if his papa must be an exception to any rule.
"Well," resumed Hector, "look at these great lace-boots.

I shall have to fill the soles of them full of hobnails presently.

They belong to the best ploughman in the parish--John Turnbull.

Don't you think it's an honour to mend boots for a man who makes the best bed for the corn to die in ?" "I thought it was to grow in," said Willie.
"All the same," returned Hector.