A SURPRISE AND A DISAPPOINTMENT
A thin, black-eyed boy halted on the street corner opposite Martin
Brothers’ Department Store and looked eagerly up and down the street.
It was fifteen minutes past seven by the clock on a nearby public
building. Commerce Street was beginning to teem with early-morning
activity. Noisy, crowded trolley cars rumbled by, each bearing its
patient load of working men and women, forced by necessity to make
their daily pilgrimage in over-crowded cars, where they paid their
hard-earned nickels for the privilege of hanging to a strap, or being
knocked about like unresisting nine-pins as the cars jolted and bumped
over weary blocks of city streets. Hurrying pedestrians impatiently
dodged one another, each intent on reaching his goal at the very
earliest possible moment. The thin little boy on the corner eyed the
clock with a frown. It was now twenty minutes past seven. Where was
Harry Harding?
“Did you think I was never coming?” Teddy Burke gave a positive jump,
as he heard Harry’s voice in his ear. The other boy had come up the
street at a moment when Teddy was busily gazing in the opposite
direction. “I know it’s late. I walked. I should have given myself a
little more time, though. To-morrow I’ll start ten minutes earlier.
We’ll just about reach Mr. Keene’s office by half past seven.”
“Catch me walking to work in the morning,” said Teddy, as they hurried
across the street. “I don’t mind walking home, but I’d have to start
fifteen minutes earlier if I hoofed it down here every day, and I need
that fifteen minutes for sleep. Ma gave me a quarter for lunch and
carfare, too, so I guess I can spend it.”
“You’re richer than I am,” laughed Harry. “I’ve only a dime.”
By this time the boys had entered the store and were walking briskly
down the main arcade to the elevator nearest to Mr. Keene’s office.
“We’ll make it, with five minutes to spare,” commented Harry as they
stepped out of the elevator. He pointed to a clock on the wall. It was
twenty-five minutes past seven.
But when they reached the large outer office and waiting room where
they had filed their applications, they were somewhat surprised to see
at least eight boys of about their own age seated on the oak benches
reserved for applicants.
“I wonder if they’ve got jobs, or are just waiting to see Mr. Keene,”
whispered Teddy. “I wonder where that nice girl is. The one who took
us into the office yesterday. I’d like to know how we’re going to get
in to see Mr. Keene, if he doesn’t know we are here. There’s a man at
the big desk this morning. Don’t you remember? It was shut when we
were here yesterday. I wonder what he does?” Teddy’s sharp, black eyes
roved here and there, taking in every point of interest. Suddenly they
grew round with astonishment. “Oh, look, Harry!” He pointed excitedly.
Advancing from the direction of the stairway was a procession of boys.
They were walking two abreast, in precise, orderly fashion. Harry and
Teddy watched them in fascination.
“Whew!” breathed Teddy. “What a lot o’ boys. I wonder where they’re
goin’? I don’t b’lieve they’ll want us here when they’ve got so many
other fellows.”
“I thought you said you were going to keep thinking you’d get a
position,” reminded Harry, smiling. His eyes were riveted interestedly
on the line of boys now almost out of sight around a corner formed by a
partition at the further end of the long open space where the waiting
boys were seated.
“Well, I did, and I am,” retorted Teddy. “Oh, dear, it’s a quarter to
eight now, and here we sit.” He fidgeted impatiently, slid to the far
end of the long bench, then slid back again, bumping smartly against
Harry.
“Quit it, Ted,” rebuked Harry good-humoredly.
Ted snickered softly, but ceased his sliding. He sat quietly for
perhaps three minutes, then impatience overcame him. “If nobody comes
to ask us what we want by eight o’clock, I’m goin’ to beat it out of
here,” he warned. “I’ll go somewhere else and look for a job.”
“My, what a lot of patience you have,” commented Harry sarcastically.
At that moment the man at the large desk, whose back had been toward
them, swung round in his chair and viewed the little assemblage with
critical eyes. Rising from his chair he strolled over to where the
waiting youngsters sat. “How many of you were here yesterday?” he asked.
“I was,” Teddy answered like a flash.
“So was I,” declared Harry.
No one else answered.
“Did Mr. Keene tell you to come back this morning?” was the next
question.
“Yes, sir,” came the simultaneous answer.
The young man, who had a fair, pleasant face, very blue eyes, and a
large, humorous mouth, stepped into the inner office. The next second
he appeared in the doorway and beckoned to Harry and Teddy.
“Good morning, boys,” greeted Mr. Keene briskly. His alert eyes
scanned the lads before him. “Did you bring your certificates?”
“Here is mine, sir.” Harry tendered his birth certificate. Teddy once
more presented to Mr. Keene the certificate from the Bureau of Labor,
which, in company with his mother, the boy had secured on the previous
day before starting out on the glorious adventure which was to end
his school days for good and all--by his own reckoning, at least. Mr.
Keene had returned it to him the day before, but he again accepted the
fateful document, and went over the two certificates carefully.
“Well, boys,” he said at last, “do you think you can work for the
highest interests of the store?”
“I will try very hard, sir,” answered Harry seriously.
“I think I can.” Teddy spoke more boldly.
Mr. Keene regarded him with a quizzical expression that was very near
to a smile. In Teddy’s sharp little face and bright eyes he read the
boy’s mischievous nature. But he also looked further and saw honesty
and manliness in him.
“Remember, at first you will be only a very small part of this great
business machine, but sometimes a defect in the smallest part will
serve to clog the whole machine. If you faithfully perform whatever
you are given to do, in a little while you will receive larger
salaries and promotion. It rests with yourselves whether you will be
indispensable to this store, or worthless. Let me see.” He picked up a
memorandum on his desk. “Which of you is Theodore Burke?”
“Me,” answered Teddy with a fine disregard for English. “I--I--mean, I
am, sir.”
“You are to go to the house furnishings, Department Number 40, in the
basement. They need a bright, steady, obedient boy there very badly. Do
you think you can fill the position?”
“I--think I can.” Teddy’s voice was not quite so confident as in the
beginning. The idea of house furnishings did not appeal to him. He had
secretly hoped to be put in the sporting goods department. Teddy’s
whole soul was bound up in games and sports, and though slender he
was strong, well-muscled and had considerable reputation among his
schoolmates for running, leaping and swimming.
“And you are Harry Harding.” Mr. Keene consulted his memorandum, then
glanced up at Harry.
“Yes, sir.”
“I am going to put you at the exchange desk, between the book
department and the jewelry. Here is your card. Every boy in the store
carries one. You must take care of it. Do not deface it or lose it.
It is marked every day by your aisle manager and your teacher, and is
a record of your behavior in the store, whether in school or on the
selling floor.”
At the word “teacher,” Teddy Burke figuratively pricked up his ears.
What was Mr. Keene talking about, and what did he mean by his record in
school? Was it possible that each day he would have to take his card
to his ancient enemy, Miss Alton? Would Mr. Keene send to West Park
Grammar School for his record? It was a most uncomfortable moment for
Teddy.
Harry, however, was drinking in the superintendent’s words with an
eagerness born of a sudden hope. He thrilled at the words “teacher” and
“school.” He remembered dimly that a boy had once told him of a certain
department store in the city which conducted a school for its messenger
and stock boys. He had forgotten all about it, but now his heart beat
faster. Suppose that store were Martins’, and that he----
Mr. Keene interrupted his reflections with, “Through the kindness of
Mr. Edwin Martin, the senior partner of Martin Brothers, the store has
a school for both the boys and girls under eighteen years of age who
are employed here. Every boy and every girl must go to school from
half-past seven until eleven o’clock on two different days of each
week. We expect our boys to take advantage of this great privilege and
do their very best, all the time, whether in school or on the floor.”
“I am _so_ glad I can still go to school.” Harry’s voice vibrated with
thankfulness. Teddy was strangely silent.
“It is a great opportunity, my boy,” returned Mr. Keene kindly. “Now,
take these slips to Mr. Marsh, the young man who brought you here. He
will show you to your departments and tell you what to do.”
“Thank you, sir,” Harry’s eyes were shining with happiness as he turned
to leave the room.
“Thank you, sir,” said Teddy mechanically. His thin face was decidedly
solemn. Supreme disgust looked out of his black eyes. Once outside the
office, Harry felt a quick clutch at his arm. Harry’s blue eyes met
Teddy’s scornful gaze. “I’m goin’ to beat it,” he declared. “Catch me
working any place where I have to go to school.”
“Oh, don’t be such a goose.” Harry’s voice was purposely sharp. He had
no time to argue the matter with Teddy. “I wouldn’t be a quitter until
I’d tried things out. You may like this school as much as you hated the
other. Come on. We can’t stand here talking all day.”
Teddy walked beside Harry to Mr. Marsh’s desk with the air of a martyr.
As he passed the still-waiting row of boys he hunched his shoulders
and stared at them with a cross-eyed glare, which was one of his
accomplishments, and caused them to giggle audibly.
“What did you do to make those boys laugh?” queried Harry.
“I just looked at them. Want me to look at you the same way?”
“No, I don’t. I want you to be good and not get fired before you’re
hired,” smiled Harry.
This brought a snicker from Teddy, and the grin had not vanished from
his impish face when they paused before Mr. Marsh’s desk.
“All right, boys?” was his cheerful inquiry. “Let me have your slips.
You are to go to Department 40, Burke, and you, Harding, to exchange
desk Number 10, on the first floor. I’ll send messengers with you to
these departments.”
“Please, sir, we would like to know something about our work and where
we go to school,” put in Harry, anxiously.
“I am coming to that,” smiled the pleasant young man. “You must be in
the store, at the boys’ assembly room, every morning at twenty minutes
after seven o’clock. I will assign both of you to Company A, which goes
to school every Monday and Thursday morning. On these mornings you will
form in line in the assembly room with the other boys of your section
and march to the schoolrooms, which are on this floor at the opposite
side of the building. When school is dismissed you are to go directly
to your departments. At ten minutes past eleven every boy must be in
his department, or receive a demerit for loitering. That is, unless he
has an exceptionally good excuse.”
Mr. Marsh took a number of cards, ruled off into little squares, from a
pigeon hole in his desk. Consulting the slips the boys had given him,
he wrote their names in the blank space at the top, reserved for that
purpose. “These are your report cards,” he explained. “If you can keep
them clear, you will be the kind of boys that this store needs. These
little squares are for demerits. Untidiness, disobedience of orders,
failure in lessons, bad behavior in school, in fact, all the things
which you know to be wrong, but do wilfully, will put black marks on
this card. Your aisle manager, or your teacher, can give them to you,
and ten demerits mean that you will be sent to Mr. Keene’s office.
He is the special superintendent for the boys, and it rests with him
whether you stay in the store or not. But first of all it rests with
yourselves, boys. It is just as easy to be neat and obedient and manly
as it is to be untidy, disobedient and unruly. Remember that. If there
is anything you do not understand or that you wish to know you can
come to me between five and half past five o’clock on any afternoon,
after first having received permission from your aisle manager to do
so. Now, are there any questions you wish to ask before going to your
departments?”
“How much time do we have for lunch?” asked Teddy.
“Forty-five minutes. Your aisle manager will set the time for your
lunch hours. There is an employees’ restaurant in the store where you
can buy a substantial lunch for ten cents.”
“I should like to ask, sir, what wages we are to receive?” was Harry’s
pertinent question.
“Three dollars a week. We start all our boys at that salary. If they
make good, they are sure of a fifty cent increase within six months
after they start to work.”
Harry vowed mentally that he would “make good,” if such a thing were
possible. He made no response to Mr. Marsh’s statement, as it seemed to
call for none.
“I will send a messenger with you to your departments. Here, Alec.”
Mr. Marsh addressed a tall, thin lad seated at a little desk near the
end of the room. “Take this boy to Department 40. Take him straight to
Mr. Duffield. Then show this boy,” indicating Harry, “to Mr. Barton at
exchange desk Number 10. Tell him I am sending him a boy. He asked Mr.
Keene for one yesterday morning.” With a friendly smile at Harry and
Teddy the pleasant young man handed the boys their cards. “Here are
your honor rolls. Keep them clean,” he admonished. “All right, Alec.”
He nodded to the messenger.
The tall, thin boy started off at a quickstep, followed by the two
latest recruits to the great store of Martin Brothers.
“Say, he’s some fellow, ain’t he?” remarked Teddy, as he hustled to
keep up with their guide’s lengthy stride.
“Who, Mr. Marsh? You just better believe he is,” was the emphatic
tribute.
“He’s pretty smart. He looked at our names when we handed him our slips
and he knew right away which of us was which,” went on Teddy.
“What he don’t know about boys ain’t worth knowing. The fellows here
all think he’s the candy kid. Mr. Keene’s pretty good to us, but
there’s only one Mr. Marsh.”
“What is his position?” asked Harry, curiously.
“Oh, he’s Mr. Keene’s assistant, but he does most of the lookin’ after
the boys.”
“Is the house furnishings department a nice place to work?” asked
Teddy, abruptly.
“Not for mine,” was the slangy retort. “I wouldn’t call hustling pans
and kettles a cinch. Still, it’s better than workin’ for old Piggy
Barton at Number 10. Say, I’ll bet that old crab just hates himself.”
“What does this Mr. Barton do?” queried Harry apprehensively.
“He’s the meanest aisle manager in the store. You want to watch
yourself or you’ll get ten demerits in about ten minutes. Every boy
that works for him gets fired. It ain’t always the fellow’s fault,
either. I know of two fellows he canned, all right enough.”
Teddy grinned at the slang expression “canned.” It happened to be new
to him. He had a vision of the two helpless messengers being forcibly
bottled, and the humor of the idea appealed to him immensely. Harry’s
face had fallen a trifle. Just when he had built up high ideals of his
future usefulness in the store it was rather discouraging to know that
he must begin his work under such a disagreeable person.
“I’m going to try very hard to get along with Mr. Barton,” he said
bravely, smothering the sudden pang of disappointment that seized him.
The thin boy grinned knowingly, but made no answer. Just then they
brought up in front of an elevator. During the descent to the basement
nothing further was said on the subject of Mr. Barton. The two boys
followed their guide through a sea of millinery and women’s clothing
and made port at last in the land of house furnishings.
“There’s Mr. Duffield now.” The tall, thin boy conducted Harry and
Teddy to one corner of the department where a short, stout man with
gray hair and a red face was talking to a salesman. “Come on here.” He
marched Teddy up to the stout little man with, “Here’s a new boy for
your department. Mr. Marsh sent him. Come along.” This last command was
addressed to Harry.
“In a minute,” returned Harry tranquilly. “Ted, I’ll wait for you
to-night where we met this morning.”
Teddy had only time for a quick, backward nod as he followed Mr.
Duffield down the aisle between rows of shining kitchen ware. Harry
turned and accompanied his companion up a nearby stairway and down the
main arcade. Just off the broad aisle his guide stopped and peered
about him. “There he is.” He hustled Harry past a long row of glass
cases filled with shining silver. A tall man was standing with his back
to the boys. He was writing on a salesman’s book with a blue pencil.
Then he said loudly, “You ought to be more careful.” The harsh tones
chilled Harry through and through. There was something familiar, too,
about that grim, uncompromising back.
“Mr. Barton,” began the messenger. “Mr. Marsh told me to tell you----”
The tall figure wheeled about and to his amazement Harry found himself
staring at the man whom Teddy had thoughtlessly dubbed “some crank,”
and who had mistakenly laid the untimely remark at Harry Harding’s
door.