Ave. oo Es andle le to ment cars y and per- elley, presi- hotel \erous d ser- $1.50 $2.00, ditional with or : Club dinner from lean, illon. tural CO. H, PA. 1 by 'y PA. @ gick cow or Nathan Picken’s ~ tings’s feed and grain store. That was ed. ¥ | t Een Mm os a AB RES EBA SD TOTO YW 2 88 88 B 88 8 g' 3 I = ® Copyright, The Frank A. Munsey Co. Mr. Johnson Bennett nodded to him- self most hearty approval of the young man who had just left his of- fice. : . He had seen to it personally that young Chapwell be promoted from kitchen utensils in the basement of the Johnson Bennett department store to be floor-walker of ladies’ suits on the third. He knew, too, that young Chapwell wouldn’t linger long there—linger long anywhere, for that matter—on his persistent upward climb. It wouldn’t be long before he was buyer; nor would he stop there, either. Young, Chapwell, too, was confident of all this, and more, as he walked home that evening to his boarding- house. But that did not in the least inter- fere with the fact that his present promotion was very good news—news that couldnt be carried in a heart without making it swell somewhat. But what is the use of good news unless there is some one to whom to tell it? That’s what young Chapwell thought. So he started out early next morning, that he might stop and tell Kittles about it. Kittles, of course, was already in his little antiques shop. He was giving the place its morning sweep when young Chapwell arrived, brushing up a little of the flour dust from under carved tables and from between mahogany chair-legs. “You don’t tell me!” Kittles ex» claimed, smiling his wrinkly, neigh- borly smile at young Chapwell’s news, for Kittles had brought to New York exactly the same neighborly heart that years ago, back home, had been so concerned about old lady Cooper’s new barn. “You don’t tell me! Why it don’t seem more than a jiffy ago since you was an independent, uppish little chap just startin’ in bein’ a cash-boy! You're like Ira Briggs, back home. He started out sweepin’ up in Al Has- fifteen years ago. Now he’s got a third interest in ths store. Where're you goin’ to stop?” He beamed affectionately on the youth and then added: “Bet you'll go and get married now.” Young Chapwell regarded Kittles with candid, boyish eyes. “No, I'm not gcing to get mare ried,” he gravely =z cured Kittles. “Yes, you will,” old Kittles insist- “And T tell you what: you come to me when you set up housekeepin’. There’s a lot of good things I've kep’ out of sight, savin’ ‘em for my neigh- bors. Neighbors come first.” Young Chapwell moved toward the door. “But I'm not,” he protested. Kittles laughed scoiingly. “Don’t you tell me,” he said. Young Chapwell looked very as he walked down the street. As a matter of fact, he always in- tended to marry when he reached that particular salary, and here was the salary and yet no girl. But it was no use. And, fortunately, that first morning in the new department he had no time to brood over it, for a special reduc- | tion sale of fall suits was advertised. Young Chapwell was too busy get- ting the stock arranged and the. sale started to give even a word of instrue- tion to Number Forty-One, Miss Ever- man, the" saleslady starting new that morning. Miss Murdock, the head saleslady, had, however, reassured him on that score, and had promised to have an eye to the new-one herself. The morning was half over “before he really saw Forty-One, and then he caught sight of her standing with Murdock over by the glass-case where the high-priced suits were kept. And oh, what a girl! Sweeter .and younger and dearer than ever he had dared to hope! The dressiest and most coiffuraed ladies on the floor became nomentities beside. her in her plain little dark blue serge with its white collar. But the morning wasn’t offering him leisure to marvel at his miracle. In- deed, that very moment there entered a stout, peremptory matron with three snobbish-looking misses in her charge. “Forty-one!” he called. She looked at him but made no move. Apparently she had forgotten her number. Poor little thing! She didn’t belong in a place like this, any- haw. He motioned for her. Her eyes opened a little wider, but still she did not come. He motioned again, and this time she came, a deep flush mounting to her cheeks and a queer, little one-sided smile on her lips. “Did you want me?” she asked. #This lady will show you what you want, madam. The special sample suits? Right over there.” A few minutes later he made a point of passing that way again to see how she was making out, and was tenderly amused to hear how bravely she was recommending the garments in Miss Murdock’s own special manner. «That fits you lovely. Perfectly lovely, lady. Believe me, madam, I'd grave - ! she could get naggy about it. never want you to take it if it didn’t. Presently Miss jock, a blue velvet costumne thrown over her arm, | came back to the glass-case of the ex- | nanan, Soe yy ai] pensive suits, gave a Dewildered glance round, caught sight of Forty- One with her customers, gasped, and said—young Chapwell heard her dis- tinctly—*Oh, my. glory!” It irritated him exceedingly to see how she stood and stared at Forty- One. The girl was doing splendidly, young Chapwell told himself. And suppose she didn’t make a sale? What of it? Murdock needn’t think She'd Letter be careful. When ths peremptory matron and fhe three snobbish misces left without buying he managed to be near to give ber a friendly smile. She was stand- ing ard looking a little dejectedly at the array of suils scattered over choirs. , “Thai’s all right,” he assured her kindly. *“F-~»~ ’em vn and get ready for the ncxt cre. Better luck next time.” A few ceconds later, from another r rt ¢f ike floor, he ~lared at the retry view of Idizs Murdock as he saw her join Forty-One and talk long and cx- citedly with her. ; “She’d better lst her alone,” muttered to himself, Then he saw Miss Murdock begin to explain to her about charge ac- counts and credit slips, and felt eas- ier. But when shortly after, that head geleslady motioned to him that the stout matron who had gone out with- out purchasing had been one of her best customers, and other seasons had often bought as many as four suits in one afternoon, why then he couldn’t even trust himself to reply. It was surprising how many oppor- tunities the day offered for talking with her. First of all, he discovered on a chair over by the glass-case of the expen- sive suits a soft little velvet hat and a blue serge coat in a heap, and he knew in a thrilled instant where they belonged. «Forty-Ond,” he called sternly. And when she came he pointed a renroochful finger at the heap, but in spite of himself he couldn’t keep his eyes stern; they kept laughing in ten- der amusement at her. : Forty-One fiushed adorably picked up the coat and hat. “Never, in all my experience in this store—"’ he began, genuinely trying to be stern. “1 don’t know where to put them,” she interrupted. «You certainly must have been told,” he chided her. “Take them to Miss Murdock and she will show you.” And as he walked on his eyes still refused to fill in line with his dignity. Again she came to him to say that the $18.75 suits were going pretty fast and Miss Murdock wanted to know yrére there any more in stock. “No,” he told her, a little dizzy over the joy of talking to her again. “I telephoned not five minutes ago.” “But people will keep asking for them,” she protested. “Couldn’t we —_couldn’t we reduce some of the fif- teen-dollar suits to eighteen seventy- five?” Not until she laughed did it strike him funny. “You've got a lot to learn,” he said. Then they both looked each other full in the face and laughed and laughed—silently, of course, but with convulsive shoulders, until young Chapwell felt that never before in his life had he been so deliciously and in- timately well acquaintea with any cone. But in thinking it over afterward he didn’t feel very sure why they had laughed, because it really wasn’t very funny, after all; just $15 suits reduced to $18.75. : She had always something to tell him whenever he came near. She had almost lost her life in try- ing to keep a red-haired lady from buying a mulberry suit; and didn’t he. think she ought to discourage the middle-aged, stout ones from buying the very tight skirts? And when they looked rather poo.- ish, ought she to let them buy the draped skirts that were sure to go out before another season? And weren't they having a good day of it? He could scarcely trust himseit to answer that. Their relations had traveled so cmazingly for this day, with only glances and smiles and a bare handiul of words for milestones, that he was awed with the wonder of it and, con- sequently, more and more concerned over her white tiredness. «She’s not used to it,” he thought «poor little kid! And just as soon as 1 decently can—" : He found that he wasn’t the only one that kept watching her. During the day he saw the sales- wemen in little groups staring at her, and was annoyed with the curiosity or jealousy, or whatever it was, that prompted it. He found himself under observa- tion, too; and more than often met stares that were curious and amused. For himself, he didn’t mind — he had encountered a little of that every time he had gone to a new depart- ment—but he was indignant for Forty- Cne’s sake. The worst thing of all happened right after lunch. He had felt, rather than seen, a new epidemic of excite- ment suddenly spread over the de- partment, and his eye, searching the cause, had found Mr. Bennett him self, standing there on the flmor, star- ing, staring, staring at Forty-One. Whether the girl was aware of it or he and not couldn’t be told, for she went icht or ] ing twelve. d r suits to an u 1=bby, middle-aged customer. Young Chapwell walked away with an angry scowl. Bennett himself] Bennett, Bens nett, who owned the whole place! He didn’t pretend to understand, but he didn’t like it. He wished he could take her away that very evening—but he supposed people had to know each other a few days before that sort of thing. Ie begrudced even those few days. Then when closing time came she | sought him out to say “Good-by”’; and | that, he knew, must be quaintly and ! dearly like her. | “Good-by,” he said; and hoped she knew how much more than “Good- | by” he was really saying. She took a deep breath and smiled up to him. “Good-by! Haven't we had a glorious day?” Then she was gone, but he knew that she did know. : : And all the way home he was weav- irg vivid, wondexzful dreams that be- came more real every minute. So he stopped in at Kittles’s dusty, cluttered store, this time not because Kittles was a2 good neighbor-soul, but now because the dusty contents of the : store held for him a new and mys- {ctious—they were the things that hc'~ed make a home. ilitiles shook a coquettish finger as he noted Chapwe'l’s new interest. «Aha! You ARE goin’ to get mar- ried, ain’t you?” “Yes, 1 an,” young Chapwell re- plied with his usval frankness. de “Well, well, well,” Kittles mused. Then with a sudden air of mystery he went to the back of the store and presently appeared with a pink-band- ! ed gold-edged tea-set which he im- pressively displayed on the counter. «Jinks! That's some class!” Chap- well breathed with admiration. “I’ve been savin’ that for a bridal couple,” Wittles confided, “and I'll make you a weddin’ present of that for ten dollars.” If young Chapwell didn’t reply at once it was because he was caught with a vision of her ecstasy over them. Dear little kid! Guess she'd open her eyes some at a tea-set like that! Kittles misinterpreted his silence. “No, sir! I am going to make it eight,” he corrected himself, “That’s how big-a fool I am over briual couples.” Besides the tea-set, young Chapel bought her a work-box and a tea-et- tle and a gilt frame mirror. It was not unitl he was about to leave that he saw the little mahogany rocker, which Kittles assured him was the best veneered rocker in the place. | It wasn’t the veneering or the finish | that caught young Chapwell’s fancy, | but rather a picture in his mind of | that chair, by a window, ard an eager girl waiting, watching—for—HIIi With the exception of cents in small change, young Ch had already emptied his pockets, but 7 repeated. #7 thought I'd never catch up,” she Faspe her boyish eyes smiling into Speechless, he stared back at her, She went on, “] wanted ito apologize for yester- day—that trick I played — but I couldn’t do it in the store in front of every one. Could I? So I got your address from the manager, but when I got there you'd just left, and you wouldn’t turn cnece to look back, or slow down, or anything, I thought I'd never catch up!” Then Kittles, displaying chairs to a woman customer in the rear of the store, turned and saw them. “Blest if there he ain’t now!” he exclaimed in delighted surprise. He left his customer and came for- ward, nodded with businesslike po- liteness to the girl, ‘and then spoke confidentially to young Chapwell. “Now, loot here,” he said, “you know that chair you’re going to buy for your young lady? Well, I got a customer back here that wants it tad. Wouldn't care to give it up, wcald you?” “She .can have it.” Kittles’s face dropped with dicap- pointment. “But I told her she couldn’t!” “She can have it,” young Chapirell “I’ve decided not to get it.” “But I want you to have it,” .it- tles persisted. “Even if you ain’t got the money now, it’s all right.” “No—" young Chapwell began to object, but Kittles wouldn’t let him do it. He returned back to his wom- an customer. ! “I'm goin’ to hold it for you,” he warned young Chapwell. The young girl drew a bit nearer to the dusty onyx table and to young Chapwell, a little of the gay daring and the brightness gone now from her eyes. “] wish you'd let me buy her,” she begged. “Don’t!” he stopred her sharply. The girl’s mouth drooped with her hurt. “] knew,” she said, “that ycu’re awfully put out about yesterday, and it for I'd like the ‘chair to be a peace c er- ing and a—a sort of thank you for the awiully nice time I had yesteid::.” She looked at him anxiously. “ou ARE cross, aren't you?” she snl’. He shook his head. No, he wosn’t CY Oss. He would have answered if he c~uld. “Of course, I shouldn’t have cone that yesterday,” she admitted. ‘But it WAS fun, selling things, ard I’ve always wanted to. I think it’s i) my blood. You see,” she exp ined sim- ply, her boyishly frank eycs upon his until they gave back to him for the moment the strange illusicn that she was again Forty-One, so: 'e onc of whom he micht take care “nd make happy with pink and gold tea-sets and “mahogany rockers— “You see,” she ' was continuing Littles promised on his horor and.“shess my fathes-met my rcther; she under no circaiisiances whatsoever | fo z PV oA wo Anyone in need of a first-class Slate Roof, #rite to J. 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