Mr. Keene’s astonishment at Harry’s proposal, made on the following morning, was soon swallowed up by his readiness to carry out Harry’s laudable plan. “It takes a pretty broad-minded boy, Harry, to suggest helping a man who once made matters uncomfortable for him,” he said with a significance that brought the blood to the boy’s cheeks. Mr. Keene had learned from Mr. Marsh of Harry’s trials of the previous year.

“He needs help,” was Harry’s quiet reminder. “I think giving a show would be a nice way to help him. Teddy Burke was the one who thought of it. I didn’t know what to do. We don’t care to have anyone but you and Miss Verne know that we had a hand in it.”

“I will talk with Miss Verne about it this afternoon,” promised Mr. Keene.

Here Harry’s part in the plan ended. Confident that Mr. Keene would set things in motion, he went light-heartedly back to his department, patiently to await further developments. Already he felt assured that Mr. Barton’s chances for proper treatment and health were rosy.

True to his promise, Mr. Keene sent for Miss Verne that very afternoon. An hour’s earnest consultation put Harry’s plan in a fair way of being speedily accomplished. The next day Miss Verne went about the store interviewing those whose special talents would be needed for the coming benefit. Mr. Keene also busied himself in seeing to it that a goodly number of typed notices were established at various points of the store where they would attract the most attention. At his own expense he gave orders for the printing of tickets of admission, setting the price at the modest figure of thirty-five cents. He had wisely reckoned that a crowded house at the price was more to be desired than one half-filled at fifty cents.

By the time the tickets were ready, the performers were diligently rehearsing for the event and the whole project proceeded with a smoothness that promised brilliant fulfillment and many dollars.

Aside from Teddy, Harry, Mr. Keene, Mr. Marsh and Miss Verne, only one other person in the store had been let into the secret. Privately, Harry had confided the whole affair to Miss Welch. The exchange clerk expressed her delight in her usual warm-hearted, if inelegant fashion, and clamored to be allowed to sell tickets. Mr. Keene had already given ten tickets to each boy on the store messenger force with smiling orders not to return one of them. He had also shrewdly offered a prize of five dollars to the boy who should sell the most tickets and competition ran high.

Several days previous to the entertainment, the first lot of tickets ran out and another lot was hastily printed. Many of them had been purchased by the employees of the store who were ready and willing to contribute their mite to so worthy an object. But customers and members of employees’ families rallied to the cause and it was generally conceded by those intimately interested in the benefit that on the great night Martin Hall would be filled to overflowing.

Teddy Burke was down on the programme for two songs. In consequence, he was highly pleased with himself. Every night he rehearsed them at home with his mother at the piano. On the evening before the benefit, Mrs. Harding and Harry were to take dinner with the Burkes, and Teddy was to sing them for his friend’s edification. Mrs. Burke and Mrs. Harding were, of course, in possession of the inside facts of the benefit. It was in the natural order of things for Harry to confide in his mother. Teddy, however, who delighted in being impressive, had exacted his mother’s solemn vow of secrecy before imparting to her the information.

The one bitter drop in Teddy’s cup of satisfaction was Harry’s interdiction which forbade him to acquaint his friend Sam Hickson with the inside facts of the coming benefit. The red-haired salesman obligingly bought two of the tickets Teddy had for sale with the flattering comment, “I guess it won’t kill me to hear you sing, Reddy.” His accompanying smile plainly said that it was solely on that account that he bought them.

“Are you going to take your girl?” was Teddy’s pointed question.

“Do I have to tell that?” grinned the man.

“Sure you do, when I ask. You tell me that and some day, ’bout two years from now, I’ll tell you something that’ll s’p’rise you.”

“What if I’m dead by that time?” teased Hickson.

“Aw, keep it to yourself.” Teddy prepared to take himself off. “I don’t want to know, anyway.”

“Then I’ll tell you. I’m going to take my mother. She’s my best girl.”

“My mother’s going to be there, too. Let’s introduce our mothers to each other. You wait till the benefit’s over and I’ll bring mine around to where you are.”

“That’s a go.” Hickson looked well pleased.

“I’ve sold twenty-eight tickets,” boasted Teddy. “I’ve got two more yet to sell. Guess I’ll ask the perky Percolator to buy ’em. Just for a joke, you know.”

“Better not,” advised Hickson. “He’s as cross as two sticks since he came back. Being sick upset his calculations, I guess.”

“Oh, I was only fooling.” Teddy really meant it. Yet later in the day, when the two tickets still reposed in his pocket, he changed his mind. Sidling up to the assistant, his black eyes two wells of seraphic confidence, he said sweetly: “Would you like to buy a coupla tickets for the benefit, Mr. Per—Jarvis? They are only thirty-five cents apiece. It’s to help a man who’s very sick.”

Mr. Jarvis threw up his plump hands in an impatient gesture. “Don’t say tickets to me, boy. I have been asked a dozen times to buy tickets for that ridiculous affair. Benefits are a needless nuisance. If this man, whoever he is, had saved his money he would not have become a public burden. He failed to practise efficiency; now others are asked to pay for his failure to provide for himself. Such improvidence is disgraceful.”

Teddy’s freckles stood out darkly against the angry red that burned behind them. “S’pose you got sick and hadn’t anyone or anything to help you. Wouldn’t you be glad if somebody gave you a benefit?”

“I cannot imagine any such situation,” came the pompous answer. “My efficient methods protect me against any emergency. Instead of wasting Martin Brothers’ time selling tickets, you had better attend to business. Come with me and I will give you something useful to do.”

“Something useful” turned out to be the distasteful labor of transferring a flock of unwieldy kettles from their abiding place on the under shelf of a table to the same lowly position beneath another. When Teddy had thumped the last one into place he rose to his feet filled with wrath and bedecked with dust. Thoughts of compassion for Mr. Barton, which had swayed him since the preparations for the benefit had been in full swing, were now obliterated by his old desire to torment Mr. Jarvis.

“Wish I could make him eat his old efficiency,” was Teddy’s savage reflection, as he started for the lavatory to wash his grimy hands. “I’ve been so busy selling tickets I’m ’fraid I’ve neglected Mr. Jarvis. I’ll have to get on the job again. My efficiency tells me it’s about time to do some more canning.”

Yet for several days following Teddy’s renewal of his crusade, Mr. Jarvis bustled about house furnishings, triumphantly uncanned. Anxious to make up for lost time the assistant had again resumed his badgering of the salespeople in 40. He and Mr. Everett were continually at loggerheads, and the old, worried frown had returned to the buyer’s brow. Teddy was indefatigable in his efforts to catch Mr. Jarvis at a disadvantage, but the latter trotted about the department, scathing in his fault-finding, himself unscathed.

Three days before Thanksgiving found Teddy divided between anticipation and despair. Anticipation of the entertainment which was to be held Thanksgiving eve; despair of catching Mr. Jarvis off his guard. As he stood eyeing his pet aversion, who was superintending the disposal of a consignment of long-handled floor brushes with the gentle behavior of a section boss, Teddy wished with whimsical cruelty that said brushes would suddenly rise up and thump him.

“Why, Teddy Burke, how are you? I haven’t seen you since you left day school.” A soft voice broke in on his vengeful meditations.

Teddy whirled about at sound of the clear, sweet tones, to confront Miss Leonard, his teacher of last year. The young woman smiled radiant pleasure at sight of her pupil and held out her hand. The boy shook it with joyful fervor. He was very glad to see Miss Leonard.

“I’m ever so glad to see you,” he said, looking up rather more shyly than was his wont. “How did you happen to be down here? Don’t you work in the store now?” He noted that Miss Leonard wore her coat and hat. “You used to be in the mail-order department afternoons, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I am still in the store. I teach in the mornings, but in the afternoons I go about the store and do a great many different things. Some days I am in the Correspondence or the Bureau of Adjustment. Then, too, I work in the Catalogue or Comparison departments. But just now, well, I’m doing something else.” She smiled mysteriously. “If you happen to see me down here now and then in the next few days, don’t be surprised.”

“I won’t.” Teddy wondered mightily as to the nature of Miss Leonard’s enterprise, but he asked no questions. He had a conviction that it would not be proper. If Miss Leonard had wished him to know she would have told him. Nevertheless, his ever ready curiosity came to the front. When she left him after a moment’s pleasant conversation, Teddy had fully decided to find out a few things for himself.

After Miss Leonard had left him to walk slowly about the department, he flitted after her, keeping at a safe distance. He watched her eagerly as she stopped Miss Newton. He saw Miss Newton wag her head and point toward an elevator. He noted, too, that instead of going directly to it, Miss Leonard waylaid Sam Hickson and addressed him. Hickson’s lips moved in an answer. Miss Leonard nodded and smiled. Instead of proceeding to the elevator she turned and walked out of the department in an opposite direction.

“Say, do you know that pretty young lady with the brown hair? She spoke to you.” Teddy had hastily pursued Hickson to ask the question.

“What lady? Oh, I know. You mean that woman who asked me where she could find down pillows? No; I never saw her before.”

“Humph!” ejaculated Teddy. “That’s funny.”

“Why is it——” began Hickson, but Teddy had already scuttled up a side aisle to where Miss Newton was laboriously counting her sales.

“Did a brown-haired, pretty lady just ask you where the elevator was, Miss Newton?” quizzed the boy, his black eyes full of curiosity.

“Why, no.” Miss Newton looked up from her sales book. “A young woman asked me where school supplies were. I told her first floor, and directed her to the nearest elevator.”

“Thank you.” Teddy had departed as suddenly as he appeared. A moment afterward his red head bobbed up in the immediate vicinity of Sam Hickson.

“You back again!” teased Hickson. “Where did you beat it to so quick?”

“See here, I’ve got something on my mind. It’s the Mystery of Miss Leonard; or, why does a teacher ask questions?”

“You’ve got me. Talk English. I’m no mind reader.” Hickson leaned against a table and beamed tolerantly at his small questioner.

“That lady that spoke to you is Miss Leonard, my teacher last year. She’s been in the store quite a while. She knows where everything is, but she goes and asks you and Miss Newton ’bout where things are. I was talking to her just before she stopped you. She used to be in the mail order afternoons. Now she says she goes all over the store. She said I needn’t be s’prised to see her down here again soon. Now what do you s’pose she’s doing?” ended Teddy, bent on unravelling the mystery.

“How should I know?” Hickson said lazily. “I’m not hired to keep tabs on her. By George!” His indolent expression vanished. “I wonder if she’s being sent around as a spotter? I’m glad you told me that, Teddy.”

“What’s a spotter?” Teddy demanded.

“A spotter is one who spots,” defined Hickson humorously.

“Clear as mud,” jibed Teddy. “Spots what?”

“Salespeople, of course. This girl has been sent around to find out if we know where the different departments are. Customers are always kicking because they get directed wrong. Every once in a while the front sends girls around to ask questions. They ask you where such and such a thing is? If you don’t answer correctly, they get your number and report you. Then the front gives you a call down. Salespeople are supposed to know where everything is, so that they can direct customers. See?”

Teddy considered. “Could she report anyone; buyers or assistants or aisle men?”

“Anyone at all. The higher up they are the worse it is for them,” was Hickson’s cheering information.

“I guess I’ll go’n take a look at the demonstrator. She might give me a hand out. She’s been making little cakes all day. I’ve had three already. I might bring you one.”

Teddy strolled toward the stove-haunted regions in charge of the kindly demonstrator. But his mind was not on cakes. He stared at that stout, amiable person with vacant eyes, and when she presented him with cake number four he thanked her and absent-mindedly stuffed it into his pocket, thereby reducing Hickson’s promised treat to crumbling ruins.

No; Teddy Burke’s mind was not on cakes. His fertile brain was seething with a brilliant idea in which cakes played no part.