The Skippetty shoes
The Skippetty shoes
Mr Winkle was a shoemaker. He lived in a tiny, tumbledown cottage, and all day long he sat outside on a bench and made or mended shoes. He was a merry, mischievous fellow, always ready for a joke. Sometimes he played naughty tricks and made his friends cross.
One time he ran a glue brush inside a pair of shoes that he sold to Father Grumps – and dear me, how Grumps tugged and pulled to get those shoes from his feet! In the end both his socks came too, and father Grumps was very angry indeed.
Another time Winkle put a squeak into the heels of some boots he sold to Dame Twisty, and when she heard the squeak-squeak-squeak as she walked, she really thought it was a goblin coming after her, and she fled down the street in fright, her shoes squeaking loudly all the time! Yes, really, Mr Winkle was a mischievous fellow.
He got worse as he grew older, instead of better, People shook their heads and said: ‘One day he will go too far, and then who knows what will happen to him?’
Now, one morning, as Mr Winkle sat mending shoes, and humming a little song that went ‘Tol-de-ray, shoes for a fay, tol-de-rome, shoes for a gnome,’ a fat gnome came by. He stood and watched Winkle at Work, and Winkle looked up and grinned.
‘You’ve a lot of time to waste!’ he said, cheekily.
The gnome frowned. He felt in his bag and brought out a pair of old slippers, each of which had a hole in the sole. They had once been grand slippers, for there was a gold buckle on each, and the heels were made of silver.
‘How long will you take to mend these?’ asked the gnome.
‘One hour,’ answered Winkle, looking at them. ‘My, how grand they were once – but they are very old now and hardly worth mending.’
‘They are most comfortable slippers,’ said the gnome, ‘and that is why they are to be mended, Mr Winkle. Now, set to work, and keep your tongue still. It was all day long.’
‘Better than growling all day long, like your!’ answered Winkle, cheekily. The gnome frowned again, and sat himself down on a stool. Winkle tried to make him talk, but he wouldn’t say a word. He just sat there and thought.
Mr Winkle felt annoyed. What an old solemn-face the gnome was! Cross old stick, thought Winkle, as he began to mend the slippers. His needle flew in and out, and his busy little brain thought about the old fat gnome.
Presently an idea came into hid naughty mind. He would play a trick on the gnome. But what trick could play? He thought and thought – and then he got up and went indoors. Some-where he had got a little Skippetty Spell – but where was it? If only he could find it, what a fine trick he would play on the old fat gnome!
He hunted here and he hunted there – and at last he found it, tucked inside a milk jug. Good! Winkle hurried back to his bench, and found the gnome looking crossly at him.
‘Where have you been?’ he said. ‘Get on with your work. I want those shoes finished at once.’
Winkle made a face and sewed quickly at the shoes. Into each he sewed half of the Skippetty Spell, grinning to himself as he thought of how the gnome would kick, jump, leap and prance, as soon as he put those slippers on his feet. Ho, ho! That would be a funny sight to watch! That would teach the solemn old fellow to frown at him and talk crossly!
‘The slippers are finished,’ said Winkle at last. He handed them to the gnome, and took his payment. But still the old fellow sat there on his stool, as if he were waiting for someone.
‘What are you waiting for?’ asked Winkle.
‘The king is coming to call for me here,’ said the gnome. ‘He said he would fetch me in his carriage. It is his shoes you have mended. They are his oldest ones, but so comfortable that he cannot bear to get news ones.’
Winkle stared in horror. Gracious goodness, were they really the king’s own slippers? He was just going to take them from the gnome when there came the sound of galloping hooves, and up came the king’s carriage. The gnome stood up and went the gate. The carriage stopped and the king learned out.
‘Did you get my shoes mended?’ he asked.
‘Yes, your Majesty,’ said the gnome and gave them to the king. His Majesty kicked off his grand gold boots and slipped his feet conten - tedly into his old slippers.
‘Oh, how nice to have these again!’ he began – and then he stopped in dismay. Oh, those slippers! As soon as they were on the king’s feet the Skippetty Spell began to work, and what a shock they gave His Majesty!
They jumped him out of the carriage. They made him kick his legs up into the air. His crown fell off into a lavender bush, and his cloak was shaken all crooked. He pranced round the garden, he kicked high, he kicked low, he jumped over the wall, and he spun round and round till he was quite giddy. Certainly that Skippetty Spell was very powerful indeed!
The gnome stared at the king in horror. Mr Winkle turned pale and trembled. When then gnome saw Winkle’s face he knew that he must have played a trick. He was full of rage and he caught the trembling cobbler by the collar.
‘What have you done to the king’s slippers, you wicked creatures?’ he shouted.
‘There’s a Sk-Skippetty Sp-Spell in them,’ stammered Winkle. ‘Do you know how to get it out? I don’t!’
Luckily the old gnome was a clever fellow, and he knew how to deal with a Skippetty Spell.
He clapped his hands seven time, called out a strange magic word, and they presto the spell flew out of the slippers, they stopped dancing, and the king sat down to get his breath.
Mr Winkle knelt down and began the king’s pardon – but he was far too angry to listen.
‘Take your tools and go away from fairy-land!’ roared the king. ‘I’ve a good mind to turn you into an earwig, you mischievous little creature! Go away before I think of the right word!’
Winkle was in a terrible fright. He was so afraid of turning into an earwig that he caught up his bag of tools then and there and fled right away. He ran until he came to the borders of Fairyland, and not till then did he feel safe. He kept looking at himself, to see if he were Winkle, or an earwig.
Now he lives in our world. He still makes shoes for the pixies – very tiny ones, gold and black. He has no shop now, so he has to store them? I’ll tell you.
Find a white dead nettle blossom and lift up the flower so that you can peep inside the top lip. What do you see there? Yes – two pairs of tiny pixie slippers, hung up safely by Mr Winkle the cobbler! Aren’t they sweet? Don’t forget to go and look for them, will you?
