Harry’s sensitive face clouded briefly. He felt as though he would like to pour forth to his mother the whole cruel truth about his store life. He wished she knew how unjustly he was being treated by Mr. Barton, yet he had a curious conviction that he must bear his cross alone. He must get used to being silent about the things which did not please him. No great business man would publish the story of his hurts abroad, and as he intended to become a truly great business man he must be silent, too. Perhaps some day, when he had been promoted to a position of trust in Martin Brothers’, he would tell his mother about these first unhappy days, but while he was only number 45 of the store messenger force, he would meet whatever came to him with a brave face and no whimpering.
[CHAPTER XIV]
THE PRICE OF HONESTY
When Harry took his station near the exchange desk the next morning, it was with renewed determination to do his duty to the full as he saw it. He wondered if Mr. Barton would mention the errand on which the aisle manager had sent him the previous afternoon. He also speculated anxiously as to whether Mr. Seymour would send for him and demand an explanation of his absence from the department. The day sped on, however, and no summons came. Mr. Barton managed to keep some distance from poor little messenger 45, and studiously avoided the boy’s unconsciously accusing eyes, whenever they happened to come in contact with each other at the exchange desk.
Late in the afternoon, as Harry was returning from an errand to a basement exchange desk, he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. Wheeling about, he faced Mr. Barton.
“Boy, if anyone asks you about that errand I sent you on yesterday, don’t you tell where you went. I said you had gone to the stock room. That’s enough for any curious people who come prying around here to know.”
“But I didn’t go to the stock-room, sir, so I couldn’t truthfully say that.”
“You just do as I tell you. I know how to run this end of the store. If I need the services of a messenger, I am at liberty to send you wherever I like,” snapped Mr. Barton.
“Then why did you not say exactly where I went?” asked Harry quietly. The boyish mouth had set in the firm lines that meant stubborn resistance to the end. “Why did you say that I had gone to the stock-room?”