ALL FOR THE SAKE OF TEDDY BURKE
It was noon the next day when a red-haired boy, his black eyes blurred
with tears, stumbled his way to the coat-room and called for his hat
and coat. Teddy Burke was no longer an employee of Martin Brothers.
After the hardest morning he had ever known, Teddy had been discharged
from the store. He had not gone down easily to defeat. Neither had he
been unaided in his efforts to establish his innocence. Mr. Keene had
believed in him. So had Mr. Marsh and Mr. Everett. All three had fought
for him, but without avail. Mr. Edward Martin, highly incensed at the
wreck of the picture, had decreed that the boy who was responsible for
it should be discharged.
If Teddy had not clung so tightly to his own peculiar code of honor,
he could easily have cleared himself. No amount of quizzing had
succeeded in making him reveal the identity of the boy whom he had
declared guilty of the outrage. Mr. Keene, Mr. Marsh and Mr. Everett
understood Teddy’s code and respected it. Usually lenient, for once Mr.
Edward Martin was adamant. He believed Teddy to be the author of the
mischief and that he was merely trying to foist the weight of his own
depredation on another’s shoulders.
It was all over now. He, Teddy Burke, was an outcast, while Leon, the
coward who had run away from his guilt, was still working in the store.
And Harry, too, was as yet ignorant of his dismissal. Teddy had not
seen Harry after leaving the barracks on the previous night. In some
way he had missed Harry and been obliged to tramp gloomily home alone.
He had not tried to see his chum that morning, but had taken a street
car to the store. He had not confided to his mother what hung over him.
He had hoped that matters might turn out all right. Now he was going
home to tell her all. In the evening he would wait across the street
from the store for Harry. He preferred to pour out his sorrows then as
they once more trudged the dear old path together.
But when Harry met him that evening on the corner, he was already in
possession of the whole story. “I knew you’d be here,” he greeted, as
he caught Teddy’s outstretched hand in sympathetic pressure. “Ted, it’s
awful. I couldn’t believe it. I know you didn’t do it.”
The quiet assurance in Harry’s voice caused Teddy to gulp briefly.
“You’re a real chum,” he faltered. “Course I never did it. It was
that--that Clothes-pole.” He jerked out the appellation as though it
burned his tongue.
“Teddy Burke! You don’t say so?” Harry cried out in amazement. His
mouth set hard as he said crisply, “Tell me everything that happened.”
Teddy complied, his tones gradually steadying as he related what had
taken place on the night before. “I tried to get even with him for your
sake, but he canned me all right,” Teddy concluded sadly.
“It’s the most unjust thing I ever heard of,” was Harry’s indignant
protest. “Really, Teddy, it seems as though you should have spoken.”
“You wouldn’t’ve,” retorted Teddy. “You wouldn’t’ve told, any more’n I
did. I thought I was going to tell on him, but I couldn’t.”
“He deserved it,” reminded Harry sharply. “I don’t know whether I would
have kept still about him or not. I haven’t said a word about what he’s
done to me. Still I believe I’d just as soon go to Mr. Martin with what
he’s done to you.”
“Don’t you dare! I won’t have it. If you did, every fellow in the store
would be down on you. I can stand it. I’m going to try to get a job in
another store. Mr. Keene said he’d give me a good reference and so did
Mr. Everett. It can’t ever be the same, though. I thought a lot of
Martin Brothers’ store. It’s a good thing they’re having that Christmas
house-party show of fashions in Martin Hall. If they’d had a play and
I’d been in it, it would’ve been pretty bad for me. Never you mind.
Some day Mr. Martin’ll know it wasn’t me that smashed his picture.
Things like that always come out some time.”
Harry comfortingly agreed with Teddy, doing his best to console the
injured boy as they walked slowly home together. Secretly he was
resolved to try in some way to prove Teddy’s innocence. If he could
think of any means to entrap Leon into a confession he would do his
utmost to bring it about.
At home with his mother, Teddy’s plan of seeking employment in another
store met with a decided check. “I never heard of such injustice,”
sputtered Mrs. Burke. “The idea of accusing my boy of such mischief and
of lying! No, Teddy Burke, you can either go back to school or stay at
home with me. I’ll not have you run the risk of any more trouble in
stores. I’d go and tell this Mr. Martin exactly what I think of him, if
you weren’t so determined that I shouldn’t.”
Teddy chose to remain at home. He had a firm belief that sooner or
later he would be vindicated. School had no charm for him. He wished
to work, and to work in Martin Brothers. He resolved to keep up his
studies at home and patiently await the day of recall to the store he
loved.
Every night, fair or stormy, found him on the corner waiting for Harry,
always with the wistful question, “Heard anything to-day?”
Christmas had come and gone. January was almost over. The two boys
had spent as merry a Christmas day together as was possible under the
existing cloud that hung over Teddy. Yet it lacked much of the joy of
that of the previous year. Thus far, Harry had gleaned nothing in the
way of even the most indirect admission of his fault from Leon. Harry’s
own days were far from happy. He seldom saw Mr. Rexford nearer than
across the department, and never spoke to him except to pass the time
of day. Of late Leon Atkins had been unusually innocuous, for him. He
was still cowering under the weight of his guilt, and was in constant
fear that the day might dawn when he would be found out and discharged
from the store.
What worried Teddy most of all was his inability to help Mr. Everett.
True, he had done much toward vanquishing the ambitious Mr. Jarvis,
yet he had been always on the lookout for a chance to turn the balance
in Mr. Everett’s favor. His wonderful plan that had to do with the
unmasking of the pretentious assistant could never be carried to a
finish now. Since the morning of his dismissal, Teddy had not set
foot in the store. Twice, however, while waiting for Harry, he had
encountered his friend, Sam Hickson, to learn from him that Mr. Jarvis
was still doing his best, or rather his worst, to supplant Mr. Everett.
His fault-finding had been the means of causing two of the salesmen
to resign, who had been longest in the department. Miss Newton was
muttering darkly of sending in her resignation. Even Hickson himself
declared that he wouldn’t stand it much longer. He brought a grain of
comfort to poor Teddy’s sore heart by telling him how greatly he was
missed in house furnishings. The boy who had replaced him was far from
satisfactory. Mr. Everett, too, deplored the loss of his little friend.
He had expressed very plainly to Hickson his disapproval of Teddy’s
discharge.
Harry Harding was the only person, however, to whom Teddy spoke his
mind freely. Harry alone knew the inside facts of the picture disaster.
It hurt him severely to see his chum so unhappy. He missed the funny
sayings and the air of exuberant jollity that belonged to the old
Teddy. The new Teddy went about immersed in a gloom utterly foreign
to his usual sunny self. Harry sometimes wondered if the sober-faced,
sad-eyed lad that greeted him so wistfully at the close of each day
could be the same boy whose cheerful chatter had made the road home
merry.
“If only I could do something to help Teddy,” was Harry’s constant
wish. In his desperate desire to restore his chum’s good name, Harry
sought the quick-witted, far-seeing Miss Welch. Omitting only the name
of the real culprit he laid Teddy’s case before her one morning in
early February.
“Hmm!” commented the exchange girl as she mentally balanced the pros
and cons of the affair. “Your little chum has certainly got in wrong,
Kiddy. He oughtta’ve squealed on the other fella. Too bad no one else
was around. If I was a certain red-headed youngster I’d watch for that
sneak that did it. One of these nights I’d give him a beating he’d
remember. That’s what I’d do. I’d make him tell or I’d punch his head
off.” Miss Welch doubled a small white hand and waved it threateningly.
“He couldn’t, Miss Welch. The boy that’s guilty is twice his size.
Teddy’s small for his age. He’s strong, though, but not strong enough
to tackle the other boy and punish him.”
“Well, why don’t you do it for him?” urged Miss Welch. “I’ll bet you
could fight if you got good and mad. Now’s your time to do it.”
Harry regarded Miss Welch in stupefaction. How had she guessed what
had been in the back of his head ever since Teddy’s discharge from the
store? Long ago he had hinted to his mother that the day might come
when he would be forced to use his fists on Leon Atkins.
“Miss Welch,” he said solemnly, “more than once I’ve thought of doing
that. After Ted left the store I made up my mind that the first time
this boy interfered with me, I’d fight him. But I hate to start on him
unless he does something to earn his licking. If I did, he might not
confess, but he _would_ make a big fuss. Then I’d get discharged and
Teddy’s case would stay just as it is.”
“I get you.” A shrewd twinkle lurked in Miss Welch’s blue eyes. The
phrase “the first time he interfered with me,” had caused her to put
two and two together. Harry, it seemed, had reason to believe that
the culprit would interfere with him. This could hardly come about
unless the two were frequently brought together. Miss Welch had
already learned by using her eyes that Leon Atkins was as a thorn to
Harry’s flesh. So he was the real offender. She calmly stored up this
information against a time of need.
“You’ve been ever so good to me,” Harry continued, “and I know that if
you could help me in this, you would. I’m going to ask you to keep your
eyes and ears open in case you might find out something that would help
Teddy get his place back again.”
“You can count on me, Harry. I’ll say a good word or do a good deed for
both you and your friend, if the chance comes my way. Count on Margaret
Welch to the last drop of the hat.”
Harry left the desk feeling more hopeful than he had for days. Miss
Welch was so clever. If anyone could help Teddy, she was the very
person. And she had advised him to give Leon a whipping. Harry smiled.
Despite her slangy manner of speech she was so delicately pretty that
the advice sounded strange from her red lips.
As February dragged its changeable way toward March, the thought of
pummeling the truth from Leon took a decided stand in Harry’s mind.
Often as he watched the hateful coward, shambling about the stock-room,
he experienced a savage desire to spring upon him and compel the truth
from his lying lips.
“This won’t do at all,” he reflected one Saturday morning as he found
himself halting in his work to stare longingly at Leon. Under a flimsy
pretense of work, the latter sat Turk fashion before a bin, deep in the
reading of a paper-covered dime novel he had smuggled into the store
inside his coat. “It’s awful for me to be always wanting to hit him.”
The intense concentration of Harry’s gaze beat across the narrow space
between them, causing Leon to stir uneasily. Slowly, as though against
his will, his eyes left the paper-covered book and came to rest on
Harry. “Well, whada you gapin’ at?” he growled.
“Nothing,” retorted Harry. Disgust of Leon overcoming prudence, he
added, “Oh, pardon me. I believe I was looking at _you_.” Swinging
about, Harry returned to his task of filling a truck.
Two seconds later he became aware that an angry face was peering down
at him over the truck. “Think I’m nothin’, do you? You’ll find out who
I am!” He gave the truck a vicious shove that sent it rumbling down the
room.
Harry sprang to his feet. It may be said in his favor, however, that in
spite of his private pugilistic desires, he had not intended to draw
Leon into a quarrel. His sarcastic answer had been nothing more than
an outward expression of his contempt for the bully. Given that he had
determined to punish Leon with his fists, he would never have selected
the store as a battleground.
“Let that truck alone and go on about your business,” he commanded. “I
want nothing whatever to do with you.” Turning abruptly away he started
in pursuit of the dislodged truck. A clutch on his shoulder caused
him to whirl about, his eyes blue steel. “Take your hands off me, you
_coward_!” The word slipped out unawares.
With a wrathful howl Leon made a lunging pass at him, his right fist
doubled. The blow landed squarely on Harry’s chest, knocking him
backward against a bin. Before he could recover his balance Leon
swept down upon him like a hurricane. For a moment or two Harry was
completely at his mercy. But the tide soon changed. Realizing that
the fight for which he had yearned was now thrust upon him, he forgot
everything except the knowledge that the time had come to strike for
Teddy’s honor.
Although shorter than Leon, Harry was strong and sturdily built.
More than once he had engaged in friendly wrestling bouts with the
boys of the Winthrop school. Never before had the experience of a
real fight been his. Nevertheless, he gave good account of himself.
Now on his mettle he fought his way free of the bin and rapidly took
the aggressive. Leon struck out wildly, too much amazed at Harry’s
whirlwind tactics to fight with any degree of skill. Step by step,
under a hammer of relentless blows, he was being forced back into a
corner of the stock-room.
“I’ve got you.” Harry slammed him into the corner with both hands.
“Now listen to me, and don’t you dare yell for your father. If you do,
you’ll be licked to a finish before he can get to you. You and I are
going to settle a few things right here. You are the one who spoiled
that big painting. You’ve let Teddy Burke suffer for it because he
was too white to give you away. You’re going to tell me that you did
it. Now tell me, or I’ll begin punishing you all over again.” Two
determined hands pinned him back with an iron grip.
Leon began to whimper. “You’ll tell on me if I say I did.” Indirectly
he had confessed.
“No; you’re going to tell on yourself. Promise to go downstairs and
tell Mr. Keene the whole thing, or take another licking. You’ve got
one black eye. You might as well have two. Hurry up now, or----” Harry
jammed the thoroughly cowed Leon a little harder against the bin. He
hated to do it, yet what he had begun must be finished.
“I did it! I’ll tell him! Lemme go!” Regardless of Harry’s warning,
Leon emitted a loud howl of “Pa-a!”
Harry relaxed his hold. There was no need of further punishment. He had
wrung from the coward the desired confession. But he did not intend
to stop there. He was resolved to escort Leon to Mr. Keene’s office
without further delay, no matter what Mr. Atkins might say or do.
Keeping a grim watch on Leon, he vigorously brushed his dusty clothing
with his hands, smoothed his disheveled hair and straightened his
collar and tie.
Though the door between the stock and receiving rooms was closed, the
anguished howl of his offspring was borne to Mr. Atkins’ ears. Flinging
open the barrier that separated him from his son, he crossed the
stock-room on the run.
“Pa,” wailed Leon, “_he_ almost killed me. Look’t my eye! He pitched
onto me and I wasn’t doing nothin’.” The hopeful scion of the house of
Atkins was indeed a sorry sight.
“You young scamp!” The enraged Mr. Atkins made a dive for Harry.
“Keep your hands off me, Mr. Atkins.” Swerving quickly to one side,
Harry eluded the man’s grasp. His tense voice held a note of command
that caused Mr. Atkins to lower his too-ready arm.
Unbeknown to those concerned in the little drama there had been an
unseen witness to the fight. With the coming of Mr. Atkins, a man who
had stood in the half-open door at the lower end of the stock-room had
slipped quietly away. Who he was and how much of the turbulent scene he
had understood was something which Harry was later privileged to learn.
“I’m pretty near dead, Pa,” whined Leon miserably. “My eye’s shuttin’
up. He made me tell a lie. He said he’d half kill me if I didn’t.”
“That’s not so,” cut in Harry, his eyes an accusing flame. “You told
the truth a minute ago because I made you. You’re not telling it now.”
“You be careful what you say about my son,” stormed the father. “I’m
going to send for Mr. Rexford to come up here and tend to you. I’ll
show him how you’ve abused Leon.”
“I wish you would,” defied Harry. “Send for Mr. Keene, too. Leon has
something to tell him. If you don’t send for him, I’ll make your son
go to him.”
“I ain’t,” shrieked Leon. “Don’t you do it, Pa.” He began to weep
noisily.
“Leon!” admonished Mr. Atkins. “Don’t be a baby. I’m not going to send
for Mr. Keene and you are not going to his office. Come into the other
room, both of you. Don’t _you_ try to run,” he warned Harry.
Harry made no reply as he walked quietly into the receiving room ahead
of the belligerents. But his heart had become suddenly heavy. Under
present circumstances Mr. Rexford was the last person he wished to
see. Over him rushed the sickening sense of defeat. He had given Leon
the long-deferred whipping, only to realize that in all probability it
would be productive of nothing save his own dismissal from the store.
He had no one to prove that Leon had attacked him. No one had heard the
confession he had forced from the other boy. It was his word against
Leon’s, and Mr. Atkins was wholly on his son’s side. Undoubtedly Leon
would now whine out a fabrication which Harry had no means of proving
was false. If Mr. Rexford still had any faith in him, he would soon
lose it. Worse, he might forbid Harry to send for Mr. Keene.
If Leon stuck to his own brand of story, Harry would then find himself
precisely in the position of Teddy Burke. Suppose he were to reveal
the true story of the damaged picture? Would Mr. Rexford believe him?
Harry believed that he would at least investigate the matter. Leon
was too cowardly to stand out long under any such investigation. Yet
there was Teddy and his inexorable code. Teddy had followed it. It
had led him out of the store. Now it was about to claim Harry, for he
had resolved that, even to save himself, he would not tell what Leon
refused to confess.