CONFIDENCES
“Teddy Burke, I was never so glad in all my life as when Miss Verne
called you to the piano, this morning!” exclaimed Harry, as he and
Teddy passed out the door that night and stepped into the street. It
was the first opportunity the two boys had had for conversation since
Teddy’s remarkable vocal demonstration that morning.
“I was never so su’prised in my life,” returned Teddy, almost
sheepishly. “I forgot all about the other fellows. I learned that song
from hearing my mother sing it. I didn’t know everybody’d stopped
singing till I quit singing myself.”
“I hadn’t any idea you could sing like that,” praised Harry, warmly.
“Oh, I’m not so much. I guess there are a lot of fellows in school that
can sing better’n I can.”
“I don’t believe it. Your voice is--is just splendid.” Harry glowed
with enthusiasm. “I’m so glad everything is going so well for you, Ted.”
“It’s you that ought to have things fine and dandy,” retorted Teddy, in
a burst of loyalty. “If it hadn’t been for you I’d of hated school, and
acted up and been discharged from the store long ago.”
Harry’s earnest face flushed with pleasure. Teddy’s good opinion was
very sweet. There were at least three persons who believed in him,
Teddy, Mr. Rexford and Miss Welch.
“It’s a shame you have to work for that cranky old aisle man,”
continued Teddy. “Why don’t you ask to be transferred? You didn’t talk
to Mr. Marsh. You said you were going to, you know.”
“I thought I’d try to stick it out. I hated to begin complaining the
very first thing. If only Mr. Barton would believe in me.” Harry’s face
fell as he mentioned the aisle manager’s name.
“He wouldn’t believe in the President of the United States,” was
Teddy’s scornful reply.
Harry smiled at this. “I try not to think about him when I’m out of the
store. All I’m afraid of is that he’ll be worse when the Christmas rush
begins. Miss Welch says an angel would get mad then.”
“I don’t think our department’s going to be so very busy,” commented
Teddy. “People aren’t going to give clothes baskets and tin pans and
wringers and ice-cream freezers for presents.”
“Jewelry’s going to be pretty busy, I suppose; and books, too. I wish
I’d get a whole cartload of books for Christmas.”
“Maybe you might get some.” Teddy registered a private vow that he
would play Santa Claus to Harry in that respect.
“Mother always gives me one.” Harry brightened. His mother’s simple
presents to him were sacred. “What did Miss Verne say to you, to-day?”
“I have to stay to-morrow night. She’s going to give me my part in
the Christmas play and begin to teach me the songs.” Teddy looked
important. “She told me all about the play. Every year the boys give
one in Martin Hall. It’s a place in the store where they give all
the entertainments. We have to give the play every afternoon for two
weeks before Christmas. It’s for the children whose mothers bring ’em
to the store to see Santa Claus. There’s going to be a Santa Claus in
this show. It’s all about a boy who didn’t like Christmas, and didn’t
believe there was a Santa Claus. I’m to be that boy.” Teddy looked very
proud.
“How splendid!” breathed Harry. “I hope I can see it.”
“I hope you can,” nodded Teddy, “but if you come to it, don’t you dare
look at me, or I’ll burst right out laughing.”
The boys trudged home through the bleak November night, talking of the
wonderful honor that had come to Teddy. When Harry reached home he
could not eat his supper until he had related the day’s happenings to
his mother.
“Teddy seems to be a very lucky boy,” commented Mrs. Harding.
“Yes, he is.” There was no trace of envy in Harry’s sensitive face.
“I wish something just as nice would happen to my boy,” said his mother
fondly. “You never say much of yourself, dear child.”
“Oh, there isn’t anything to tell, Mothery. I just work and that’s all.
Wait until something big happens to me. You’ll be the first one to hear
it. Isn’t it fine that we are going out together on Thanksgiving Day?”
He changed the subject abruptly. They were on dangerous ground. His
mother must never know how little possibility there was of anything
“big” happening to him.
“I’m very proud to think my son is going to take me out.” His mother
came over to Harry and kissed him.
“You’re the best mother a fellow ever had,” murmured Harry. What were
a few hardships to him, compared to the satisfaction of being able to
give his mother pleasure with the money he had earned by his own labor.
“I hope Ted’ll have a nice time with his mother, Thanksgiving. I must
ask him what he’s going to do.”
Harry did not see his chum the next morning. For once, Teddy failed
to be at their usual meeting place. The two boys did not meet until
they happened to come together in the lunch-room at noon. For once,
Mr. Barton had allowed Harry to go to lunch on time. Usually, he kept
the boy at the exchange desk until long after the time he had first
assigned to him to go to lunch.
“I was late. My mother overslept this morning. I had to hustle to get
here. I was only ten minutes late, though. Mr. Duffield didn’t scold.
My, but he’s good. He just said, ‘Try not to be late again.’ Mr.
Hickson says he’s always like that to everybody. Mr. Hickson’s a pretty
good fellow, too. I’d do most anything for him. I like all the folks in
kettles and pans, except the old Gobbler. Maybe she didn’t gobble the
other day, though.” Teddy launched forth with the tale of the purloined
feather duster. “You ought to have heard her gobble the next morning
when she went to fish out her duster and got nothing but a handle.” He
giggled gleefully at the memory. “I was watching her to see what she’d
do. She made a lot of fuss. She went around making the folks in the
department show her their dusters to see if any of ’em had hers.”
“But didn’t she know her duster when Mr. Hickson showed it to her?”
asked Harry, his eyes dancing with amusement.
“He didn’t happen to be on the floor when she was going around the
department. Te, he! I went and got the duster and took it over to her.
She was telling Mr. Duffield her troubles. ‘Is this your duster, Miss
Newton?’ I asked. That’s her real name. She looked at it and gobbled,
‘That duster, mine? No, sir. My duster’s brand new. That’s all cut up,
and the top’s gone.’ So I put it away again. Maybe Mr. Hickson didn’t
laugh when I told him. He said he was even with her now for taking a
big sale away from him the other day.”
“You’re a bad boy, Teddy,” laughed Harry. But his tone contained little
rebuke.
“I’m good sometimes,” defended Teddy stoutly. “Doesn’t it seem funny to
think we won’t have to go to school any more until after Christmas?”
Teddy preferred not to speak of his shortcomings.
“I’m sorry, aren’t you?”
“Well,” Teddy squinted reflectively, “school isn’t so bad. I have a
pretty good time in my department, though. How’s dear, kind Mr. Barton
to-day?” he asked sarcastically.
“Dear, kind Mr. Barton has been quite mild lately. I hope it lasts.”
“He’s glad he’s going to get a holiday. He has something to be thankful
for on Thanksgiving. He can be thankful he isn’t any uglier than he
is,” berated Teddy.
Strangely enough, Mr. Barton’s mild mood remained with him, and when
Harry left the department on Wednesday night he felt more cheerful than
since he had first taken up his work at exchange desk Number 10.
* * * * *
Thanksgiving came and went, bringing to the two lads the sweetness of
their first hard-earned holiday. Harry and his mother followed to the
letter the programme he had outlined to Teddy. Imbued with the spirit
of Harry’s gallantry to his mother, Teddy solemnly proposed to Mrs.
Burke that he accompany her to church on Thanksgiving morning. To his
secret delight, she made no protest and, when dressed in his Sunday
best, Teddy marched decorously along beside her to the church which she
attended, she felt a strange, new thrill of pride in her son. It seemed
to her that she was just beginning to become acquainted with him. That
afternoon she did the honors and took Teddy to a wonderful play for
children that was having a popular run at one of the theatres, and on
Thanksgiving night mother and son spent a blissful evening at home, at
the piano, trying over the songs that Teddy was to sing in the play,
which Miss Verne had painstakingly copied for him.
Teddy was bubbling over with joy the following morning, when he and
Harry met. The two lads compared notes and decided unanimously that it
was the best Thanksgiving they had ever spent.