THE SAME OLD KIND

“When I was down there in Atlantic City,” said Dickinson with that delightful drawl of his, “I went one day into a shoe store on ‘The Avenue,’ as they call the business street of the town, and looked around. The clerk came up smiling and asked could he wait on me, and I said he could if he had any ‘crochetted overshoes.’ That made him scratch his head. ‘Must be a new kind,’ said he. ‘Oh, no,’ said I. ‘They’ve been in use some years.’ ‘But,’ said he, ‘I can’t see what use crochet work would be on overshoes. Why, the rain and mud would spoil it all in a short time.’ ‘Oh, no,’ said I. ‘You don’t catch on. I am not looking for overshoes with crochet work on them, but for crochetted overshoes—overshoes that are crow-shade; black ones, you understand?’”