QUALITY QULITY I knew him from the days of my extreme me youth, because he made my father’s boots. He lived with his elder brother in his shop, which was in a small by-street in a fashionable part of London. The shop had a certain quiet distinction. There was no sign upon it other than the name of Gassler Brothers; and in the window a few pairs of boots. He made only what was ordered, and what he made never failed to fit. To make boots----such boots as he made ---seemed to me then, and still seems to me, mysterious and wonderful. I remember well my shy remarks, one day, while stretching out to him my youthful foot. “Isn’t it awfully hard to do, Mr. Gassler?’’ And his answer, given with a sudden smile from out of the redness of his beard: “Id is an art!” It was not possible to go to him very often his boots lasted terribly, having something beyond the ...
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