University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.
THE NEW BROOM.

The following Sabbath was a bright Winter day without,
but bright Summer in Dennis's heart. He inquired
his way to a neighboring Church, and every word of
prayer, praise and truth fell on a glad, grateful spirit.
Worship was a joy, not a duty. Returning, he wrote a
long letter to his mother, telling her all he had passed
through, especially dwelling on the truth he had discovered
of God's wish to make this life happy and successful,
as well as the life beyond.

In closing, he wrote: “Here am I, Dennis Fleet, who
a few days ago thought the world scarcely large enough
for what I meant to do, standing contentedly and gratefully

in Pat Murphy's shoes. I will not conceal from you,
speaking figuratively (the fates forbid that it should be
literally true), that I hope to outgrow them, and arrive at
something better before many months pass. In the mean
time I am indeed thankful for the means of winning honest
bread for us all. It is quite a come-down from the
classics and law to the position of porter and man-of-all
work in a picture and music store, but if God means me
to rise He can lead me upward from my lowly stand-point
as well as from the most favored that I could have chosen
for myself. I have learned that if I will trust Him and
do present duty thoroughly, He will not forget me.”

On Monday morning, half an hour before the specified
time, Dennis stood at the store. Impatiently he walked
up and down before what would become the scene of joys
and sorrows, such as he had never before experienced.
But we will not anticipate.

In due time Mr. Schwartz appeared. He gave Dennis
a cool nod, and said:

“Glad to see you so prompt”—then muttered again
to himself—“new broom.”

In Mr. Schwartz's slow plodding soul the fire of enthusiasm
had never burned. He was eminently conservative,
and looked with wary suspicion on anything that appeared
like earnestness. In the midst of a driving, bustling
Western city, he stuck in the mud of his German
phlegm, like a snag in the swift current of the Mississippi.
Yet Mr. Ludolph found him a most valuable assistant.
He kept things straight. Under his minute supervision
every thing had to be right Saturday night as well as Monday
morning, Dec. 31st as well as Jan. 1st. He was one
who through life would be satisfied with a subordinate position,
conscious of the lack of enterprise needful to push
his own way in the world. His painstaking, methodical
spirit was just the kind to pervade a large warehouse like

that he had in charge, and prevent loss and confusion in
the multiplicity of objects it contained. Pat's careless
Irish ways had vexed his soul beyond words, and now
Dennis's eager manner suggested a hair-brained Yankee
youth who would raise a dust for a week and then be off
at something else. He was therefore cool and curt, seeking
by frostiness of manner to nip the budding enthusiasm
that annoyed him.

Dennis heeded him not, but bent every faculty to the
mastery of the duties required of him. He was to mop
out the store with damp cloths, so as to raise no dust, to
look after the furnace and graduate the heat throughout
the building, to receive boxes, to assist in packing and unpacking
pianos and other musical instruments that occupied
part of the upper floors, and to make himself generally
useful. So far from being an easy position, it was
one that required great strength and dispatch, and these
had been Pat's qualities save when drink got the better of
him. For one of his age, Dennis was very strong, and
his experience in helping his mother in household duties
had made him quick and dexterous, where most young men
would have been awkward and slow. After a day or two
Mr. Schwartz relaxed his grimness somewhat, for if Dennis
worked eagerly, he also worked well for a new beginner.
Still it would require several years of well doing to
satisfy old Schwartz that all was right. But keen Mr. Ludolph,
with his quick insight into character, watched this
“new broom” a few days, and then congratulated himself
on gaining another decided help toward the object nearest
his heart.

The other clerks were of German descent, and under
Mr. Schwartz's rigid system, each one filled his appropriate
niche, and performed carefully the duties assigned.

Even to Dennis's uncultivated eye there was a rigidity
and formality about the whole establishment not artistic.

At first it was but a feeling—a vague impression that grew
upon him without his scarcely knowing why. He soon
discovered however that every thing was arranged squarely,
according to system, order, and not with a view of
placing in the best lights and shadows the beautiful things
to be sold. He saw that Mr. Ludolph was annoyed by
the same defect. One bright day, when every thing stood
out with glaring distinctness, he seemed provoked beyond
measure by this inartistic rigidity, and stormed through
the store at a great rate.

“This art-building and everybody and every thing in it
look as if they swallowed a ram-rod,” snarled he. Mr.
Schwartz, can't you teach the young men to throw a little
ease and grace into the arrangement of the articles under
their charge?”

Mr. Schwartz looked at him with a blank, impassive
face, and his employer felt that he might as well ask an
elephant to teach dancing.

Turning suddenly on a stolid youth, he exclaimed,
“By the gods! if you have not arranged all the statuettes
on your counter in straight lines, and half of them with
their backs towards the door at which our customers enter!
Here, gather round me while I give you some ideas of arrangement.”

They gathered around him, while with hands of skill
and taste he grouped every thing artistically. The effect
of a little transposition was marvellous, and Mr. Schwartz
acknowledged that they looked doubly pretty and inviting.
Dennis stood at a respectful distance, but was a close
observer. He was the only one who gained much benefit
from the lesson, because the only one capable of receiving
it. With quick, appreciative eye he saw the grouping
needful to produce the desired effect.

As Mr. Ludolph looked up he caught Dennis's intelligent
gaze.

“That is right, Fleet,” he said; “you learn, too, if you
can, and when you are dusting around, see if you cannot
combine a little order and grace together.”

From that day forward the hand and taste of Dennis
Fleet began gradually, and almost imperceptibly at first,
to give a new aspect and create a new atmosphere in the
“Temple of Art.” But at first he was kept busy enough
at his humble routine duties. Every one felt and expressed
a little surprise at his getting into harness so
quickly, but the heavy atmosphere that Mr. Schwartz pervaded
was not conducive to conversation or emotions,
however faint. All went forward quietly and orderly, like
well oiled machinery. Customers received every attention,
and though many no doubt had the undefined feeling
that something was wrong in the arrangement of the store,
they all found an abundance of beautiful things suited to
the taste and purse of each, and so trade was good, even
though the holiday season was over.

As for Dennis, he was to a certain extent in Paradise.
Nature had given him a deep, earnest love of the beautiful,
and keen perception of it.

Though his days were busy indeed, he found time
gradually to study every pretty thing in the store. Though
much was mystery to him as yet, he felt himself over the
threshold of a beautiful world—the world of art. When
a boy in New England he had taken drawing-lessons, and
had shown remarkable aptness. While at college, also, he
had given some attention to drawing and coloring, but circumstances
had prevented him following the bent of his
taste, but now the passion awoke with ten-fold force, and
he had not been in his place a week, before he began to
make sketches of little things that pleased him. Some of
the pictures and bronzes became almost dear, and he
would view their sale with a feeling akin to regret. Early
in the morning, when refreshed and brightened by the

night's rest, he would walk through the store as through
fairy-land, and forgetting that he was a humble servitor,
would feel as if all were his. But in fact was not his possession
truer than that of many whose palace walls glow
with every rich gem of art, and yet whose eyes are
blind and hearts dull to the beauty they have paid for?

But a few days after his arrival a little incident occurred
that was hard and practical enough, and might justly
cause him to feel that he occupied a humble place, not
only in the world of art, but the world in general. There
had been a day of rain, slush, and mud. One of the
younger clerks had been sent out on an errand, and came
in well splashed. Drawing off his boots, he threw them
to Dennis, saying—

“Here you, Fleet! black my boots as quick as you
can. I must go out again.”

Dennis reddened, and for a moment drew himself up
as if he had been struck. The young man saw it and
said in a loud, coarse tone that could be heard by several
customers—

“Vat! you above your biz? I thought it would be so.”

Dennis acted with decision. He meant to have the
matter settled at once. Picking up the muddy boots, he
marched straight into Mr. Ludolph's office. That gentleman
looked up, impatient at interruption, and saw his
man-of-all-work standing before him with the splashed
boots dangling in his hands.

“Well! what is it?” asked he sharply.

“Mr. Berder threw me those boots and told me to
black them. Is this a part of my duty here?” said Dennis,
in a firm, quiet tone.

“Curse it all,” said Mr. Ludolph, with much irritation;
“I thought there would be trouble with your uppishness.”

“There shall be no trouble whatever,” said Dennis;
“but I prefer to take my orders from you, and not from

Mr. Berder. If you say this is expected, the disagreeable
task shall be done as well as I can do it.”

Mr. Ludolph looked sharply at the young man for a
moment and hesitated. In his heart he felt that he was
speaking to a gentleman, and that it was not the thing to
ask of him such menial work. But his irritation and desire
to crush out anything like insubordination, prevailed.
Still, rather than directly order it, he appealed to the custom
of the past, and stepping to the door of the office he
called—

“Mr. Schwartz, come here! Did Pat black the shoes
of the gentlemen of this store?”

“Yes sir.”

“You took Pat Murphy's place, did you not?”

“Yes sir,” said Dennis.

“It seems to me, then, that this settles the question;”
said Mr. Ludolph, coolly, turning to his writing, but he
furtively and carefully watched Dennis's course.

Determined to show that he was not above his business,
that he accepted the bitter with the sweet, Dennis
went up-stairs to his room, got blacking and brush, and
taking his station in a corner where Mr. Ludolph could
plainly see him through the glass doors of his office, he
polished away as vigorously as if that were his only calling.
Mr. Ludolph looked and smiled. His was a nature
that could be pleased with a small triumph like this. But
the other clerks, seeing Mr. Berder's success, and determining
to do their part, also, in taking Dennis “down a
peg,” as they expressed it, brought their boots, too, and
Mr. Berder came with his again in the afternoon. Dennis
cleaned and polished away in full view of Mr. Ludolph,
who began to realize with vexation that his man-of-all-work
would have little time for the duties of the store,
if he were installed general boot-black of the establishment.
But, after this, cold and snow kept the streets dry

and clean for some time, and the matter passed on without
further notice. A pair of boots were seldom brought
to him, and when they were, they were cleaned without a
word. In the mean time, his ability and faithfulness in the
discharge of his regular duties, and in some slight degree
his taste and judgment, began to be recognized, and Mr.
Ludolph congratulated himself that in giving Dennis Pat
Murphy's shoes, he had made a decided change for the
better.