Although only the width of an aisle separated Harry Harding from his former station at Exchange desk Number 10, it seemed to him as if he had entered into a new and wonderful realm. Three busy, happy weeks had glided swiftly by since that bitter morning when, crushed by Mr. Barton’s shameful accusation, he had been haled to the detective’s office and searched for the missing twenty dollars.

From the moment when, vindicated from the aisle manager’s unjust charge, he had walked out of that hateful office under the protection of Miss Welch and Mr. Rexford, he felt that he was leaving his misfortunes behind him, that for him the “better day” of which he had dreamed was, indeed, a reality. Five minutes confidential conversation between Mr. Keene and Mr. Rexford had resulted in the transferring of Harry from the exchange desk to the book department. Mr. Rexford had also insisted on taking Harry to Mr. Marsh. There was another short, private confab, then Harry was called upon to present his much-marked report card to Mr. Marsh. That kindly man tore it in bits and writing Harry’s name on a fresh card, handed it to him with a pleasant, “Well, my boy, I think you can be trusted to keep this card clear of demerits.”

But when Harry reached the department of which he had so often vainly sighed to be a part, the greatest joy of all was his. Mr. Rexford did not intend him to be a messenger. He was to be a stock boy, and his salary was to be increased to four dollars a week. Thus in one eventful day the current of his life was changed, and through shame and suffering he came into his own.

During those first, blissful days among the books, Harry’s affection for Mr. Rexford was so great that it made him feel like crying. Gradually, however, he regained his normal poise, and tried to show his gratitude by giving the best possible service to the man who had fought for him in his hour of need. Of Mr. Barton Harry saw little. To be sure, he was still aisle manager in the book department, but he passed Harry with averted head, or, if they chanced to meet face to face, with no sign of recognition. He had been lectured most severely by Mr. Seymour for his hasty accusation against Harry on that disastrous day. Mr. Prescott, the detective who had searched Harry, had also rated him scathingly, and Miss Welch, aside from business transactions, treated him with a sweeping contempt that was more humiliating to the crabbed man than he cared to admit even to himself. He had learned a lesson, however, that he was not likely to forget, and the boy who took Harry’s place at the exchange desk profited by Harry’s suffering in that Mr. Barton accorded him at least fair treatment.

December brought with it the great annual rush that precedes Christmas. Day after day the store was crowded with busy shoppers, and though the employees of Martin Brothers’ store had much to contend with, still the spirit of Christmas which is yearly being lived up to more faithfully by the customers in the treatment of those who serve their never-ending wants, pervaded the whole establishment.

Harry Harding spent little time in the department. All day long he worked like a beaver in the stock-room on the tenth floor of the store, coming into the department merely to bring down truckload after truckload of books to fill up the constantly diminishing tables. For, at the holiday season, the book department reaped its richest harvest, and the demand for its wares never seemed to lessen.

Those were halcyon days for Teddy Burke, too. Not because of the rush of business in his department, although trade was brisk, and a few new salespersons had been added to the house-furnishings force, but for the delightful reason that he was the most talked-of boy in school.

As the chief actor in the little play that was being daily given in Martin Hall, Teddy was covering himself with glory. Miss Verne had spared no pains in training him for his part of “Dicky Darrow,” the boy who didn’t believe in Santa Claus, and Teddy displayed a histrionic ability that astonished all who were fortunate enough to witness the musical play.

It may be said to Teddy’s credit that much adulation had not turned his head. Off the stage he was the same old Teddy, and far from given to swaggering he showed a positive distaste for crowing over the fresh laurels that he daily won.

“A lot of these people make me tired,” he grumbled to Harry as they trudged home together one snowy evening. “I wish they would not come around talking to me about my voice and all that foolishness.”

“But, Teddy, you’ve a right to be proud of yourself,” was Harry’s hearty praise. “Everybody’s talking about you. I’m crazy to see the show. Two more days and the rush will be over. Then the boys will all have a chance to hear you sing and see you act.”

Mr. Keene had arranged for a special performance to be given for the benefit of the employees after the store closed on Christmas eve, and Harry was eagerly looking forward to seeing Teddy in his wonderful part. Harry had a delightful secret he was hugging to his breast, and he could hardly wait for the time to come to carry it out.

“I’m glad that’ll be the last of it,” returned Teddy. “I came to this store to be a business man, like Mr. Everett, not to sing for a lot of folks who think they’re goin’ to hear something wonderful. Just you remember, Harry Harding, not to dare look at me when I’m singing, or I’ll laugh; see if I don’t.”

“I’ll turn my back to the stage,” promised Harry, with twinkling eyes.

“Now you’re making fun of me,” declared Teddy, with a snicker. “If I should happen to look out at the audience and see nothin’ but your back, I’d laugh all right. I guess you’d better look at the stage, if you don’t look too hard. My mother’s been to hear me sing three times. She thinks I’m some son.”

“My mother was here yesterday. She thinks so, too. You are kind of an adopted son of hers, you know.”

“I guess I’m lucky to have two mothers,” nodded Teddy, his small face glowing.

Teddy had become a frequent visitor at the Harding’s humble home, while Harry had paid several visits to the Burkes. Mrs. Harding and Mrs. Burke had also met, liked each other on sight and a vigorous friendship had sprung up between the two little families. In fact, Harry and his mother were to spend Christmas Day with the Burkes and the boys were looking eagerly forward to the occasion.

On the day before Christmas, trade slackened in the store. Here and there, through the rapidly thinning aisles, dilatory customers wandered who had refused to obey the mandate to do their Christmas shopping early, while shrewd bargain hunters darted about, ready to pounce upon any article that had been “marked down” at the last moment.

But even these indefatigable shoppers drifted out of the store, one by one, and at the last the welcome ringing of “closing” gongs in all parts of the store proclaimed that another holiday rush had passed out to keep company with the shades of past busy seasons.

Harry Harding was positively thrilling with excitement, as he hurried to the assembly room to form in line for the triumphal march to Martin Hall. The hour had come when he was to witness his chum’s triumph. A number of rows of seats had been reserved for the store messengers, and as Harry marched into the hall with his work-a-day comrades to the inspiring strains of Sousa’s “Salute to the Colors,” played by the store orchestra, he was wrought up to a high pitch of pleasurable emotion.

Once seated, his eyes never left the curtain that hid his chum from view, and as with a warning tinkle of the bell it rose, disclosing a pretty living room in which two boys were seated, he could have shouted out of sheer joy.

The play began with a discussion between two little boys in regard to the reality of Santa Claus. The opening lines were Teddy’s, and the first sound of his clear young voice uttering the emphatic words, “I don’t believe in Santa Claus, so there!” thrilled Harry through and through. After a short dialogue, Teddy sang his first song, “There is No Santa Claus,” and the boy who played the part of his brother responded to it with, “Santa Will Come To-night.”

Although the other boy’s voice was sweet and true, the interest of the audience was centered in Teddy. He was obliged to repeat part of his song before his listeners would allow the play to proceed. More dialogue followed in which the boys agreed to steal downstairs to the living-room after the household were asleep to watch for the coming of their patron saint. Then followed a beautiful duet, “We’ll Watch for Him To-night,” which closed the act.

The second act opened with the stealthy entrance of the boy watchers. Dicky’s brother was given the opening song, “When Santa Comes Down the Chimney,” and Teddy answered it with a funny little song, “Seeing is Believing.”

Then followed a brisk dialogue which died out as two drowsy youngsters succumbed to sleep on each side of the fireplace, only to waken as a cuckoo clock sang out the hour of midnight. A faint jingling of distant sleigh-bells sounded and a surprising thing happened. The big fireplace opened wide and a radiant white figure, glittering with diamond dust, stepped out. She waved a wand. The chime of bells grew louder and in dashed Santa Claus, perched in a tiny sleigh, drawn by eight little boys in queer, tight-fitting brown suits and close-fitting hoods, topped with funny little antlers. They stamped and curvetted in true reindeer style, then stepped out of harness and sang, “Run, Run, Run, You Little Reindeer.”

A serious time followed for the abashed Dicky. Santa Claus rated him soundly in a queer, shrill voice, and the eight reindeer wagged their antlered heads in stern disapproval. The radiant figure, which was none other than the Spirit of Christmas, sang a tuneful number, “What Shall We Do with Dicky?” and Santa Claus answered with, “Try Him for Unbelief.” Dicky protested with, “I Won’t Be Tried in Court,” but the eight reindeer seized him and dragged him before Santa Claus.

Then followed a funny trial scene in which the prosecutor was the Spirit of Christmas, the eight reindeer the jury, and the judge, Santa Claus, who condemned him to go without presents every Christmas until he acknowledged the reality of Santa.

The play ended with Dicky’s remorseful solo, “I Believe in Santa at Last,” while Santa Claus was finally persuaded by the Spirit of Christmas to shake hands with Teddy and recall his stern sentence. Then came a ringing chorus of “Merry Christmas to All and Good Night.” Santa Claus flung down a pack of toys, called to his reindeer, and the whole procession skipped through the yawning chimney. The stage was darkened for an instant. Suddenly the lights flashed up, revealing the two boys sitting up, rubbing their eyes. Springing to their feet they ran down to the front of the stage and sang the final number, a duet, “Santa’s the Friend of the Children.”

Hardly had the curtain dropped when tumultuous applause broke forth. Dicky and his brother were called again and again before the curtain. Mr. Marsh hurried down the aisle with two immense bouquets of red roses. This was Harry’s surprise. He had proposed to the messenger boys that they give ten cents apiece to buy these tributes of honor, and they had responded to a boy.

Half an hour later two happy-faced lads, their arms full of be-ribboned bundles, stepped into the snow-packed street. The bundles represented the good will of the various members of their department. They meant that the tired salespeople who had stuck to their posts so faithfully through the bustle and hurry of Christmas had not been so tired as to forget that a merry, gift-laden Christmas is the most important thing in the world to a boy. In each lad’s pocket reposed a two dollar and a half gold piece, the gift of their respective buyers, and as Harry Harding and Teddy Burke trudged home through the sharp wintry air they both agreed that they were truly the luckiest boys under the sun.

“I guess Santa Claus will be around to see you to-night,” was Teddy’s observation, called after Harry as they parted at the corner.

“I shouldn’t be surprised if he called on you, too,” flung back Harry.

Each boy smiled to himself as he sped home on his separate way, glowing with the unselfish ardor of giving.

When Harry Harding opened his eyes the next morning on the light of a perfect Christmas day, the first thing that met his eager gaze was a thick, square, be-ribboned package. It lay on the little table beside his bed, and on the holly-wreathed tag tied to the ribbon was written in Teddy’s unmistakable handwriting, “Merry Christmas from Teddy.” The package contained a set of Kipling’s “Jungle Books,” for which Harry had often sighed. While at almost the same moment Teddy Burke was lovingly caressing a beautiful dark blue sweater which Mrs. Harding’s patient fingers had knitted for her adopted son. And as each youngster admired and gloated over this newest proof of the other’s regard it came to him that after all there was nothing in the world quite so satisfactory as having a real chum.