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.