Harry was instantly off on his errand. He was frequently intrusted with a five-dollar bill to be changed. This morning, however, it was a yellow-backed twenty-dollar note that Mr. Barton handed to him. Hurrying to Miss Exley’s desk, he handed her the money. She grumbled at having to part with her small notes, but counted out four crisp five-dollar bills, and thrust them into the boy’s hand with, “Take that to Mr. Barton, and don’t you dare lose it.”
Three minutes later the notes lay in the aisle manager’s hand. In that same instant, however, he was besieged by an irate customer, who demanded that he sign her check for the return of a bracelet which had been sent to her in place of one she had purchased. Intent on pacifying the woman, he accompanied her to Miss Welch’s desk, the money in his hand.
It took at least fifteen minutes to rectify the mistake, and send the woman on her way with the bracelet she had originally purchased safely in her shopping bag.
“After that, it’s me for lunch,” announced Miss Welch grimly. “I need food to sustain me until the next trouble hunter hits this desk.” Mr. Barton mumbled a disgruntled reply and stalked off up the aisle in answer to a frantic call from a salesman in the books.
“I hope Mr. Barton lets me go to lunch on time to-day,” reflected Harry. “It isn’t a bit busy. Here he comes back again. I wonder if I dare ask him. My, but he looks cross.”
“Boy,” thundered the aisle man, approaching Harry almost on a run. “Where’s that money I gave you to change?”
“I gave it to you, sir,” replied Harry. “Don’t you remember, I——”
“You gave me nothing,” stormed the man.
“Oh, yes I did, sir,” Harry’s voice rose in an anxious note.