“I thought I’d try to stick it out. I hated to begin complaining the very first thing. If only Mr. Barton would believe in me.” Harry’s face fell as he mentioned the aisle manager’s name.
“He wouldn’t believe in the President of the United States,” was Teddy’s scornful reply.
Harry smiled at this. “I try not to think about him when I’m out of the store. All I’m afraid of is that he’ll be worse when the Christmas rush begins. Miss Welch says an angel would get mad then.”
“I don’t think our department’s going to be so very busy,” commented Teddy. “People aren’t going to give clothes baskets and tin pans and wringers and ice-cream freezers for presents.”
“Jewelry’s going to be pretty busy, I suppose; and books, too. I wish I’d get a whole cartload of books for Christmas.”
“Maybe you might get some.” Teddy registered a private vow that he would play Santa Claus to Harry in that respect.
“Mother always gives me one.” Harry brightened. His mother’s simple presents to him were sacred. “What did Miss Verne say to you, to-day?”
“I have to stay to-morrow night. She’s going to give me my part in the Christmas play and begin to teach me the songs.” Teddy looked important. “She told me all about the play. Every year the boys give one in Martin Hall. It’s a place in the store where they give all the entertainments. We have to give the play every afternoon for two weeks before Christmas. It’s for the children whose mothers bring ’em to the store to see Santa Claus. There’s going to be a Santa Claus in this show. It’s all about a boy who didn’t like Christmas, and didn’t believe there was a Santa Claus. I’m to be that boy.” Teddy looked very proud.
“How splendid!” breathed Harry. “I hope I can see it.”
“I hope you can,” nodded Teddy, “but if you come to it, don’t you dare look at me, or I’ll burst right out laughing.”