AT THE END OF THE DAY
“Well, how did you get along this afternoon?” was Harry’s greeting, as
the two boys met on the corner after work. It was fifteen minutes to
six. The store closed at half past five o’clock, but the boys of the
store were obliged to form in line in the assembly room and pass out
of the building, reporting their numbers at their special time desk as
they went.
“Oh, pretty good. Better’n this morning. Got a call down first thing,”
confessed Teddy.
“You did! I’m surprised.” Harry didn’t look in the least surprised.
“What could you possibly do to get a scolding?”
“Aw, quit teasing me,” retorted Teddy. He related his first disastrous
errand to the wrapping desk. As might be expected, Harry laughed.
He had a mental vision of Teddy parading down the aisle in his
granite-ware helmet, his arms full of kitchen utensils.
“You wouldn’ta thought it was quite so funny if you’d seen that great
tall giraffe comin’ down the aisle at you,” grumbled Teddy.
“I don’t suppose I would,” Harry regarded the red-haired boy smilingly.
“Still, you couldn’t blame him very much. You’d better be careful about
calling people pet names, though, Ted.” Harry grew serious. “You got me
into trouble by calling Mr. Barton a crank, then you called that fat
boy an elephant. I must say, the name suits him, only it’s rather hard
on the elephant. Now you’ve named another man a giraffe. First thing
you know, you’ll have a zoo, and when they hear you calling their names
the whole menagerie will come at you and gobble you up.”
“You talk like a fairy story,” grinned Teddy. “Don’t worry. I won’t
let anyone hear me calling ’em pet names. I’m sorry about that fellow
I called ‘some crank.’ If his ears had been in the right place he
wouldn’ta thought you said it. I’ll go to him and tell him I’m the boy
that said it. He may treat you pretty mean.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort.” Harry’s lips set with decision. “Mr.
Barton will probably forget about it. I don’t believe he’ll be so very
mean to me. There’s a nice young lady at the exchange desk. Her name
is Miss Welch. She has been real good to me to-day. She told me not to
mind if Mr. Martin was cross.”
“There’s a nice man in the old pans and kettles department,” returned
Teddy. “His name’s Hickson and he has red hair, too. He says he used
to act like me when he was a boy.”
“Then we’ve each made a friend, haven’t we?” commented Harry. “You’re
better off than I am, though, Ted. You haven’t anyone down on you, and
I’m on the bad side of two persons.”
“Yes, and I’m to blame,” said Ted savagely. “You shoulda let me alone
with that fat kid up in the lunch room. I’da punched him and----”
“Been discharged,” finished Harry.
“Well, he wouldn’t’ve jumped on you, anyhow,” muttered Teddy.
Harry regarded the little, red-haired boy with genuine affection. This
sudden revelation of regard for him on Teddy’s part pleased him greatly.
“You’re a good chum, Teddy,” he said. “Don’t you worry about that fat
boy. He won’t bother either of us again. He’s a coward.”
The boys trudged along the busy city streets, talking earnestly of
their day’s work. In spite of the fact that they had been on their feet
all day, neither of them felt tired. The novelty of their first day’s
work had caused them to forget themselves. When at last they separated
at the corner where their ways diverged, Teddy said eagerly, “Well,
it’s been some day, all right. I’d a good deal rather work than go to
school. Say, if I can get up early enough to-morrow morning I’ll meet
you on this corner at seven o’clock. If you don’t see me, don’t wait.”
“All right,” nodded Harry. “Good-bye, Teddy. Don’t forget to tell your
mother all about your first day in the store.”
“I will,” promised Teddy. Then he was off down a side street like a
flash, leaving Harry to pursue the rest of his walk home alone.
The pleasant aroma of newly-made coffee and broiling beefsteak greeted
his nostrils as he opened the door of their tiny apartment. His mother
was so busily engaged in bending over a pan of biscuits which she was
in the act of removing from the oven that she did not hear the boy
enter. Slipping quietly up to her he wound both arms about her waist,
just as she straightened up.
Crash! The pan of biscuits fell to the floor, but obligingly landed
right side up and in the pan.
“Mercy, child, how you startled me!” exclaimed Mrs. Harding. “It’s a
good thing those biscuits landed right side up with care. Well, dearie,
how did you get along to-day? I suppose you got the position, or you’d
have been home long ago.” Mrs. Harding set the biscuits safely on the
end of the table and, turning, gave Harry an affectionate hug and kiss.
“Yes, Mother, I’m a working man at last. My, but I’m hungry and how
good the supper smells! I didn’t know until this minute just how
starved I was. It’s splendid in you to have beefsteak. It’s just what
a hungry fellow likes best. And creamed potatoes, too!” He had stepped
over to the stove, lifted the lid of a saucepan, and was peering into
it.
“I thought we could afford to have a little beefsteak to-night. I knew
you’d be hungry. I had to ask the man in the meat market to trust me
for it until Saturday, but I wanted you to have a good supper, son.
Let’s sit right down as soon as you’ve washed your face and hands.
Everything’s ready. Then you can tell me what happened to you to-day.”
“I’ll be ready, too, in a jiffy,” declared Harry. Going over to a stand
on which stood a china bowl and pitcher, Harry took the pitcher and
filled it with water from the sink. One room served the Hardings as
kitchen and dining-room. Pouring the water into the bowl, he began a
vigorous splashing. Five minutes later, his boyish face shining with
health and cleanliness, he seated himself opposite his mother at the
table.
“Now, eat first and talk afterwards,” she commanded, as she heaped her
son’s plate with beefsteak and creamed potatoes and passed it to him.
When his first hunger had been appeased, Harry began an account of the
day’s happenings. His mother listened in interested silence. Harry
said nothing about Mr. Barton’s evident dislike for him, or of the
fat boy who had sworn to “be even” with him. He felt that these tales
were better left untold. His mother would merely worry if she knew that
things had not gone quite smoothly. Besides, it was a poor sort of boy
who couldn’t fight his own battles.
Mrs. Harding laughed merrily over Teddy’s triumphant march down the
aisle in his stewpan headgear. “He must be a funny little boy, Harry,”
she said. “You must bring him home with you to supper, some night.”
“Oh, may I?” Harry’s eyes shone. “That will be fine. I know Ted can
come. He says his mother lets him do whatever he pleases. Do you know,
Mothery,” this was Harry’s pet name for his mother, “I feel a little
bit sorry for Ted, to think his mother doesn’t make a fuss over him
like you do over me. She belongs to some kind of a club, and she’s
always going off to it, so Ted hardly sees her in the evenings. You
see, he isn’t so poor as we are. He doesn’t have to work if he doesn’t
want to. He can go to school. His father’s dead, too, but his mother
has money enough to take care of her and Teddy so long as they both
live. He just started to work because he didn’t like school. Nobody
cares much what he does.”
“The poor little mite!” sympathized Mrs. Harding. “You just bring him
home with you. I’ll mother him.”
“You can’t help liking him. He’s such a jolly, funny little fellow,”
was Harry’s enthusiastic reply.
But while the Hardings were discussing him, Teddy Burke was trying
to put into execution his new plan of telling his mother everything.
The moment he entered the hall of the two-story brick house which his
mother owned, he hurried up the stairs to the sitting room. He drew
aside the portiere and peeped in, then looked disappointed. There was
no one there. Then he set off down the hall to her bedroom. The door
was closed. He listened for an instant, then tapped on the door.
“Is that you, Teddy?” came in quick, business-like tones. “What do you
want?”
“I want to see you. Can’t I come in?”
“Yes, but don’t bother me. I am going to a concert that the Mozart
Club is giving to-night and I’m in a hurry. You’ll find your supper
downstairs in the oven. I couldn’t wait for you.”
Teddy had entered the room while his mother was talking. He found her
sitting before her dressing table in a kimono, arranging her hair.
“I just want to tell you about the kind of a day I had in the store,”
he began bravely. “I started to work----”
“You can tell me about it when I come home to-night, dear. I haven’t
time to listen to you now. I am to meet Mrs. Andrews at the club at
seven o’clock and I’ll never get there on time if you bother me. Run
downstairs and get your supper. That’s a good boy.”
“All right,” Teddy sighed, and turning on his heel went downstairs to
the kitchen. He paused before the kitchen range and stared at it with a
scowl. “I knew it wouldn’t work,” he muttered. “Harry’s lucky. I’ll try
it again to-morrow. If I keep it up, maybe she’ll listen to me, even if
I do bother her.” Then he set to work to carry his lonely supper to the
table, and was soon eating it with the appetite of a very hungry little
boy, his brief disappointment forgotten.
But though Teddy did not then know it, the seed had fallen on good
ground, for Mrs. Burke could not help wondering as she dressed for
the concert what had caused her usually non-communicative son to be
so ready to talk. A sudden vague regret that she had sent him away
swept over her, and as she hurried downstairs to keep her appointment
she found time to stop in the dining-room and say, “I’m sorry I have
to hurry away, dear. But I wish you’d tell me all about the store
to-morrow.” Stooping, she kissed Teddy’s cheek and hurried off to the
Mozart Club, leaving a happy little boy to murmur, “Maybe it’s goin’ to
work, after all. She certainly is some mother.”