““By that time Willy’s skin was nearly its normal fair hue again. “There’s a shoemaker over in Piddington named Clarke Nichols,” he said. “He has such good business he needs a second apprentice.” “Shoemaker?” said Willy, with more interest than the trade deserved. He had been idle too long. The Northampton area was known for shoemaking. Everything was there for the trade: abundant hides from livestock in the lush pastures, friendly waterways for easy transportation, oaks for the tanning process, and lastly, tradition. The same King Charles that Cromwell had defeated in nearby hills had earlier pummeled the walls of Northampton for making shoes for Cromwell’s army. “I’ve been to see Clarke Nichols,” continued Willy’s father. “He seems a Godly man. The pastor there says he is good churchman. Nichols even has a small library that you might profit from, Willy.” “So””
