Harry moved a little away from the desk, still keeping within call. His honest young soul rebelled against Mr. Barton’s treachery. He made up his mind, however, that he would not betray the aisle manager if he could avoid doing so, provided Mr. Seymour should take him to task for his long absence from the floor. But he hoped with all his heart that Mr. Barton would not ask him to go on another similar errand.
[CHAPTER XI]
TEDDY BURKE DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF
But while Harry Harding was finding life in a department store far from tranquil, Teddy Burke was making himself very much at home in the prosaic realm of kettles and pans. In fact, the kettles and pans were but a small part of department 40. It did not take the active Teddy long to discover this. The kingdom of house furnishings spread over a large part of the basement, and from a profound contempt for the lowly conveniences and necessities of the housekeeper, he developed at least a good-natured tolerance for the engines of housekeeping, great and small.
It did not take him long to explore every foot of the territory into which his lot had been cast, and before he had been in the department a week he knew everyone in it. The demonstrator who concocted appetizing dishes on her shining gas range became his firm friend and slipped him many a surreptitious dainty. Mr. Duffield, the aisle manager, liked Teddy chiefly because he was unusually keen of understanding. “I never have to tell 65 a thing more than once,” he was wont to remark to the salesmen. Samuel Hickson, the red-haired young man, was Teddy’s chief crony, however, and Teddy liked nothing better than to travel about at his heels. Mr. Hickson laughingly referred to Teddy as his mascot, and more than once the little boy’s sharp eyes singled out prospective customers “who looked as though they wanted a whole lot of things,” and put his friend on their trail.
“Say,” began Teddy one afternoon when during a lull in business he lined his thin little body beside Hickson, who stood leaning against a table, peering anxiously across the wide stretch of household wares for customers. It had been an unusually dull day and few sales were recorded on Hickson’s book. “Who’s this man Everett they’re always talkin’ about?”
“Mr. Everett’s the buyer. He’s been in New York ever since you came. I expect to see him in here most any time.”
“What do you suppose he’ll think of me?” asked Teddy naïvely.
The salesman laughed. “Probably he’ll never see you, unless he happens to want you to go on an errand. Who do you think you are, Reddy?”