Harry Harding’s heart sank as he stood before Mr. Barton. It was evident from the frowning glance which the aisle manager bestowed upon him that he had recognized him, furthermore that he believed Harry to be the boy who had called him a crank.

“Let me see your card,” snapped Mr. Barton.

Harry instantly handed his card to the aisle manager.

“Your number’s 45; just remember that. When I call you, come on the jump. I’ve no time to waste on idle, disobedient boys. You are to stay at this exchange desk whenever you are not sent on an errand. If a customer brings an article into the store to be exchanged, on a cash sale, you are to wait until the exchange clerk makes out a credit slip. Then you must take the slip and the article to the department to be signed in stock. You are to do whatever the exchange clerk or I tell you to do, and you are to step lively. No grumbling or excuses.” He eyed Harry severely.

“I will try, sir,” Harry answered in quiet, respectful tones.

“You’ll have to do more than try, if you expect to stay at this desk,” retorted Mr. Barton. “Here, Miss Welch, is a new boy for you.” He addressed the young woman at the exchange desk, then stalked off down the aisle.

The girl smiled winningly at the lad, then said, “What’s your name, son?”

“Harry Harding, ma’am.” The smile went straight to Harry’s sore little heart. Keenly sensitive, the harsh words of the aisle manager had cut him to the quick. If only Teddy hadn’t made that unlucky remark, he thought mournfully. Then he could have started fairly with Mr. Barton. Now Mr. Barton believed him to be a rude and disrespectful boy, and would treat him accordingly until he proved that he was neither. Harry threw back his shoulders and made a firm resolution to win Mr. Barton’s good will. He would be prompt, courteous and obedient, and “in time” Mr. Barton would learn to trust him, perhaps like him.

Harry looked shyly at Miss Welch. He hoped she would like him. She was so pretty, with her big, blue eyes and pink cheeks, and how gracefully her thick, black hair curled about her forehead!

“What’s on your mind, son?” she asked, noting the boy’s timid scrutiny. “Cheer up. Don’t look so sad. That old grouch, Barton, is enough to give anyone the blues, but just remember he can’t eat you, or kill you, or do anything worse than scold you. He never opens his mouth to say a pleasant word. We’re all used to him down here.”

“He—he—doesn’t like me,” stammered Harry.

“He doesn’t like anybody. He even hates himself,” declared the girl.

“He thinks I called him a crank,” Harry colored slightly, as he made this admission.

“When did all this happen?” The sympathetic exchange clerk elevated her eyebrows in surprise.

“Yesterday morning. I was waiting in the employment office to see Mr. Keene. There was another boy sitting there waiting, too. Mr. Barton was in the office talking to Mr. Keene. When he left the office he looked so cross that the boy said, ‘some crank,’ and he heard it. He thought I said it.”

“Good for the boy that said it,” laughed Miss Welch. “I’m glad smarty Barton heard it. Now he knows what other people think of him. I’m sorry you got blamed, though. Why don’t you tell him you didn’t say it?”

Harry shook his head. In his recital of the incident he had been careful not to mention Teddy as the real transgressor. “I’d rather not say anything. Maybe he’ll forget about it if he sees me trying hard to please him.”

“You couldn’t please him if you gave him a million dollars,” was the discouraging information. “But never mind, kid. I’ll see that he don’t bite your head off. I’m not afraid of him. He isn’t afraid of me, neither,” she added with a giggle. “Still, it takes the Irish to hand him one, once in a while.”

“Are you Irish?” asked Harry.

“Irish as can be. Don’t I look it? And proud of it, at that. Now you just listen to me, Harry. Keep out of Mr. Barton’s way as much as you can. If there’s anything you don’t know, ask me. Now you’d better take a walk around the jewelry and the book department and find out where you’re at. Size up ‘jewelry’ first and then come back here. I may have something for you to do. If I don’t need you, you can chase yourself over into the books for a walk around. If you hear me call ‘45’ at any time, then come over here as fast as your feet’ll let you.”

“Thank you for being so kind. I certainly will try hard to please you.” Harry forgot his shyness. This pretty girl with her sharp tongue and slang phrases was quite different from his meek, quiet little mother, but he felt somehow that she had the same warm heart.

“Listen to the kid.” Margaret Welch beamed on Harry and made a mental resolve that old Cross-patch would have to let him alone or settle with her. And thus Harry Harding began his store life by making an enemy and a friend.

In the meantime, Teddy Burke, greatly to his displeasure, had been left to thrive or languish among the kettles and pans. There was little danger of Teddy languishing. His was a disposition that longed to be up and doing. House furnishings were altogether too tame to suit his active tastes. Still, there might be a chance for a little fun. Teddy eyed the red-faced, gray-haired aisle man and decided that he wasn’t very cross, and quite easy. Now that he was away from Harry’s subduing influence, his mischievous nature began to come to the surface and his bright black eyes roved speculatively about the department.

“What’s your name, boy?” asked Mr. Duffield, in placid tones.

“Teddy Burke—sir.” Teddy tardily remembered the sir, but forgot to say Theodore.

“Well, Teddy, you are to make yourself generally useful in this department. Do you think you can do that?”

“Oh, yes, sir,” was Teddy’s confident answer.

“Stay right in your department, where we can get you when we need you. No running off the floor, unless I give you permission. I don’t want a boy here who says, ‘I can’t,’ or ‘I haven’t time,’ when he’s asked to do something. I want a pleasant, willing boy. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” murmured Teddy, rather meekly. The red-faced little man didn’t seem quite so easy. There was a ring of finality in his voice that meant business. Just then a monotonous voice was heard calling, “Mr. Duf-field, Mr. Duf-field,” and the aisle manager trotted off toward the sound, leaving Teddy to his own devices. He sidled up to a table of blue and white kitchen ware and surveyed it with contemptuous eyes. How the fellows in school would tease him if they knew where he was. They would call him “kitchen mechanic” and “Bridget,” and any other appropriate names that happened to come to their minds. Teddy’s unhappy reflections were broken in upon by a peremptory voice, “Here, boy.” Teddy turned toward the sound and saw a salesman beckoning to him. The little, red-haired boy obeyed the call with alacrity. Mischievous though he might be, Teddy, thanks to Harry’s earnest views of good service, had made up his mind to do his best.

“Take these over to the wrapping desk. It’s all the way back, behind that partition.” The man piled Teddy’s thin, wiry arms high with cooking utensils.

“Don’t drop ’em,” he directed, “and don’t lose the checks.”

The boy started off jauntily enough. The granite-ware utensils had been piled one upon another in a huge dishpan. On the very top of the lot was a stewpan with a long handle. Before Teddy had proceeded ten feet, it slid off the pile to the floor with a protesting rattle. Teddy glanced quickly about. He wondered if anyone had seen him drop the pan. There was no one near the long aisle through which he walked, except a demonstrator, who was so busy cooking something on a shining hot-plate that she paid no attention to him. Setting down his load on the end of a table piled with similar goods, he picked up the offending stewpan and put it in place. He had barely started when off it slid again. “I’ll fix you,” he muttered. Seizing it savagely he measured it with his eye, then jamming it firmly down upon his head, proceeded calmly up the aisle, looking not unlike a small helmeted knight.

“Boy!” A horrified voice checked Teddy’s triumphal progress, causing him to let the whole armful of kitchen ware clatter to the floor. Bearing down upon him strode a tall, loose-jointed man, whose arms seemed to flap as he walked.

“Take that pan off your head. Take it off, I say!” He pointed dramatically toward the stewpan, still perched upon Teddy’s red hair. Two sales-girls and a customer passed by. The girls giggled outright. The customer, a stout, comfortable-looking woman, smiled.

The pan came off Teddy’s head in a twinkling. “It wouldn’t stay on the pile,” he murmured, but his eyes were dancing. He stooped to gather up his fallen wares.

“Look at me,” commanded the man. “How long have you been in this department?”

“’Bout half an hour.” Far from being abashed, Teddy straightened up and eyed his questioner. He was not thinking about what he had done. He could still see the tall man flapping toward him, looking for all the world like a funny scarecrow he had once seen in a play. He had to scowl to keep from laughing.

“Well, let me tell you, young man, you won’t be here half an hour longer, if I catch you at any more such tricks. Do you think a customer wants a stewpan that a boy has been using for a head piece? What do you suppose our customers will say about Martin Brothers’ store, if we allow our boys to disgrace us in that fashion!”

Teddy hung his head, but, wise child that he was, said nothing.

“What is your name and your number? Mr. Keene must hear of this. He is responsible for putting such boys as you in the store.”

Teddy gave his name and number, which was 65, and the tall man flapped off down the aisle with the air of one who has done his duty, leaving poor little Number 65 to collect his scattered burden.

“You better watch yourself, kid.” The laughing voice caused Teddy to straighten up, the big dishpan in his hand. A young man with hair as red as Teddy’s own and twinkling blue eyes was regarding him amiably. “That’s Mr. Seymour, the floor superintendent.”

“I guess his name oughta be talk more,” grumbled Teddy, reaching for the last spilled article and setting it down hard. “Stewpan hats aren’t goin’ to be the style this year,” he grinned, placing the troublesome pan where it could not roll off.

“You’re a funny one,” commented the salesman. “You and I are in the same class when it comes to red hair. I’ll bet you’re chuck full of mischief. I used to be, too, when I was a kid like you.”

“I guess you ain’t got over it yet,” said Teddy slyly. “Say,” the young man’s friendly manner invited confidence, “will that guy report me to Mr. Keene?”

“He will if he happens to think of it again, but it’s not likely he’ll remember. He’s a lot on his mind all the time. He looks grouchy, but he’s not so bad. Now you better get over to that desk with that stuff. Got your checks?”

“Yep.” Teddy exhibited them, clutched in one hand.

“All right. Run along, youngster.” Teddy had also made a friend, and a true one.

Teddy reached the desk without further mishap. When he returned to his department, he heard Mr. Duffield calling, “Boy, boy,” and from that moment on his work began in earnest. Being as quick-witted as he was mischievous, it did not take Teddy long to get his bearings. By the time the morning was over he had explored every corner of the department, and knew the location of the wrapping and exchange desks, the buyer’s office and the names of several sales persons. At half-past twelve he was told that he might go to lunch. The red-haired salesman, whose name was Samuel Hickson, showed him the way to the men’s time desk and by following three boys who were bound for the lunch room he brought up safely in the big room where the men and boys of Martin Brothers’ store could obtain a substantial meal for ten cents.

Teddy’s first move was to look for Harry Harding. Despite the fact that he was hungry, he wandered up and down among the small tables set for from four to eight persons, his sharp, black eyes darting alertly about the room in search of Harry. After ten of his precious forty-five minutes had passed, he gave up his quest and walked over to where the eatables were laid out in tempting rows on a long counter. Behind the counter were several women, who served the meats and vegetables. The salads, bread and desserts were put within convenient reach. One chose or ordered what one wished, and placing it upon a tray carried it to a nearby desk, where a cashier inspected it and collected the amount due for the luncheon. Then the purchaser was free to carry it to an unoccupied place at any of the tables and eat it at his leisure.

Teddy spied a sign which read, “Regular dinner, 10 cents,” and decided to invest his dime. He received two slices of bread, a bit of butter, a medium-sized piece of roast beef, a boiled potato and a small wedge of pie. In spite of his disappointment at not seeing Harry, he felt quite jubilant over having been able to get as much as he could eat for ten cents. If he walked home with Harry that night, he would have ten cents left from his quarter. That would take him and Harry to the movie theatre across the street, where “The Outlaw’s Last Stand” was showing, and one could see six reels for five cents.

Rising so early had given Teddy a keen appetite for dinner and it did not take him long to dispose of it. He found he still had twenty minutes to do as he pleased, so he wandered about the lunch room watching wistfully several tables where merry little companies of boys were talking and laughing over their lunch.

“Wish I knew some of those fellows,” was his thought. His eyes still on a group of four particularly lively boys at a small table, he forgot for a second to steer a safe course among the lads who were passing back and forth with trays.

“Crash!” He came into full collision with a stout boy who was hurrying from the opposite direction with a full tray.

“Now see what you’ve done,” exploded the stout boy angrily. The wreck of a ten-cent dinner lay scattered over the floor. Only one dish had been broken. The plate on which reposed the piece of beef. The other dishes were still whole.

“I—I—didn’t mean to,” faltered Teddy.

“You big elephant. You did it on purpose,” scolded the fat boy.

“Huh!” snorted Teddy, his own temper rising. “I guess you look more like an elephant than I do.”

By this time a dozen boys had surrounded the two belligerents, with others constantly arriving. Several men stood laughingly in the background.

“See here, freshie, do you want to fight?” blustered the fat boy. “If you do, just call me another name and see what happens.”

“Rhinoceros,” flung back Teddy, white with defiance. Both his fists were now doubled menacingly.

“Teddy Burke!” a surprised, disapproving voice caused Teddy’s eyes to leave the fat boy’s face momentarily. Harry Harding was pushing his way through the crowd to Teddy’s side. “What is the matter here, Ted?”

“Aw, I bumped into this—this fellow and upset his tray and now he wants to lick me for it. I didn’t mean to, but he’s so thick he can’t get it through his head.”

“He did it a-purpose,” sputtered the boy. “Now I haven’t any dinner or any more money. I gotta have something to eat.” His voice became a whine.

“Oh, you make me tired,” retorted Teddy scornfully. “Do you s’pose I wasn’t goin’ to pay for your old dinner? Here’s a dime. Go buy another, and keep still.” He handed the fat boy his dime.

The latter clutched it eagerly. “But my dinner cost fifteen cents,” he objected, as he pocketed the silver.

At this moment one of the women employed in the lunch room had come forward to clear away the wreck.

“Wait a minute, please.” Harry Harding began an examination of the food on the floor. Then he turned to the woman. “Isn’t this a ten-cent dinner?” he asked. “Is there anything besides the regular dinner there?”

The woman viewed the wreckage. “It’s a ten-cent dinner, all right,” she nodded.

Harry’s eyes were full of contempt as he turned to the fat boy, who, caught in a lie, colored deeply, his small, shifting eyes refusing to meet Harry’s. Those who had crowded around the two began looking and voicing their disapproval.

“Pretty small, isn’t he,” sneered a young man. “He was trying to work that other boy for a nickel.”

“Serve him right if he had to go without his dinner,” commented a boy of about Harry’s own age.

“Come on, Ted.” Taking the red-haired boy by the arm, Harry turned his back on the dishonest boy. The surrounding group dissolved, by magic, leaving the fat youth standing alone, a deep scowl darkening his disagreeable face.

“See here, Ted,” began Harry as they walked down the long room, “did you start that fuss?”

“Course I didn’t,” flung back Teddy in indignation. “I was goin’ along, minding my own business, when I bumped into that fathead. Why didn’t he look where he was goin’?”

“Why didn’t you look where you were going?” questioned Harry slyly.

“I guess that’s right, too,” admitted Teddy. “Still, he needn’ta made all that pow-wow. I was goin’ to make his old dinner up to him. I had ten cents left of my quarter and I was goin’ to take you to the movies when we got out to-night. Then he had to come along and spoil it all.”

“I couldn’t go to the movies to-night, anyhow, Ted,” said Harry, “but it’s good in you to think of me.”

“Why not?” demanded Teddy.

“I’ve got to go straight home. Mother will be waiting for me. She’ll want to know how I made out to-day. Your mother will probably want to know, too.”

“Oh, she won’t care,” retorted Ted. “She’s too busy goin’ to a club she belongs to, to care what I do. If I ain’t there at supper time she leaves my supper on the table or in the oven for me and beats it off to her old club. They’re always havin’ meetin’s and parties and things.”

Harry cast a quick glance of sympathy at his companion. He could not imagine life without his mother’s interest in all he did. He made a secret resolve to take Teddy home with him as often as he would go. Teddy should share his mother. Then a bright idea came to him. “Why don’t you tell your mother what you do and where you go?” he proposed. “If she got used to hearing about it she might want to know. My mother always likes to know all I do. It helps a fellow a lot if his mother’s that way.”

“I s’pose it does,” returned Teddy soberly.

“My goodness, I forgot to buy my dinner!” exclaimed Harry. “Have you eaten yours?”

“Yep. It’s time for me to go back to my department. I had a lot to tell you, but it’ll have to keep till to-night. Wait for me on the corner.”

“I will. I’ve a lot to tell you, too.”

“So long,” nodded Teddy.

The two boys separated. Teddy left the room, while Harry went over to buy his dinner. Twenty minutes of his precious time had already gone. He carried his tray of food to a nearby table and sat down to eat it. But he had hardly settled himself when he heard a surly voice in his ear, “You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you? Well, next time you butt in where it ain’t any of your business you’ll be sorry.”

Harry whirled in his chair to see the sulky fat boy directly behind him, glowering down at him. His steady blue eyes measured the other with a long look of quiet contempt and indifference. Then he turned his back squarely upon the disgruntled boy and went on eating his dinner.