University of Virginia Library

17. CHAPTER XVII.
PROMOTED.

Late in the afternoon of the same day (which was Saturday),
as Mr. Ludolph was passing out of the store on
his way home, he noticed the table that he had arranged
artistically some little time before, as a lesson to his clerks.
Gradually it had fallen back into its old straight lines and
rigid appearance. He seemed greatly annoyed.

“What is the use of re-arranging the store,” he muttered.
“They will have it all back again on the general
principle of a ramrod, in a little while. But we have put
our hands to this work, and it shall be carried through
even if I discharge half of these wooden-heads.”

Then calling the clerk in charge, he said—

“Look here, Mr. Berder, I grouped the articles on this
counter for you once, did I not?”

“Yes sir!”

“Let me find them Monday morning just as I arranged
them on that occasion.”

The young man looked as blank and dismayed as if he
had been ordered to swallow them all before Monday
morning.

He went to work and jumbled them up as if that was
grouping them, and then asked one or two of the other
clerks what they thought of it. They shook their heads,
and said it looked worse than before.

“I vill study over him all day to-morrow, and den vill

come early Monday and fix him,” and the perplexed youth
took himself off.

Dennis felt almost sure that he could arrange it as Mr.
Ludolph had, or with something of the same effect, but
did not like to offer his services, not knowing how they
would be received, for Mr. Berder had taken a special delight
in snubbing him.

After the duties of the store were over, Dennis wrote
to his mother a warm, bright, filial letter, portraying the
scene of the day in its comic light, making all manner of
fun of himself, that he might hide the fact that he had suffered.
But he did not hide it, as a return letter proved,
for it was full of sympathy and indignation that her son
should be so treated, but also full of praise for his Christian
manliness and patience.

“And now, my son,” she wrote, “let me tell you of at
least two results of your steady, faithful performance of
your present humble duties. The money you send so regularly
is more than sufficient for our simple wants. We
have every comfort, and I am laying something by for sickness
and trouble, for both are pretty sure to come before
long, in this world. In the second place you have given
me that which is far better than money—comfort and
strength. I feel more and more that we can lean upon
you as our earthly support, and not find you a `broken
reed.' While so many sons are breaking their mother's
hearts, you are filling mine with hope and joy. I am no
prophetess, my son, but from the sure word of God I predict
for you much happiness and prosperity for thus cheering
and providing for your widowed mother. Mark my
words. God has tried you and not found you wanting.
He will soon give you better work to do—work more in
keeping with your character and ability.”

This prediction was fulfilled before Dennis received
the letter containing it, and it happened on this wise.

Early Monday morning Mr. Berder appeared and attempted
the hopeless task of grouping the articles on his
table, in accordance with Mr. Ludolph's orders. After an
hour's work he exclaimed in despair,—

“I cannot do him to save my life.”

Dennis at a distance, with a half amused, half pitying
face, had watched Mr. Berder's wonderful combinations,
and when Rip Van Winkle was placed between two togaed
Roman Senators, and Ichabod Crane arranged as if making
love to a Greek Goddess, he came near laughing outright.
But when Mr. Berder spoke, he approached and
said kindly and respectfully—

“Will you let me try to help you?”

“Yes,” said Mr. Berder, “you cannot make things
vorse.”

Acting upon this ungracious permission, Dennis folded
his arms and studied the table for five minutes.

“Come,” said Mr. Berder, “standing dare and looking
so vise as an owl, von't help matters. Mr. Ludolph will
be here soon.”

“I am not losing time,” said Dennis, and a moment
proved he was not, for having formed a general plan for
its arrangement, he went rapidly to work, and in a quarter
of an hour, could challenge Mr. Ludolph or any other
critic to find serious fault.

“There! I could do better if I had more time, but I
must go to my sweeping and dusting, or Mr. Schwartz
will be down on me, and he is pretty heavy, you know. I
never saw such a man,—he can see a grain of dust half
across the store.”

Mr. Berder had looked at Dennis's quick skillful motions
in blank amazement, and then broke out into unwonted
panegyric for him,

“I say, Vleet, dat's capital! Where you learn him?”
Then in a paroxysm of generosity he added,

“Dar's a quarter for you.”

“No I thank you,” said Dennis, “I did not do it for
money.”

“Vat did the fool do it for, den, I'd like to know,”
muttered Mr. Berder, the philosophy of his life resuming
its former control. “Saved a quarter, anyhow, and vat's
more, know vare to go next time de old man comes down
on me.”

A little after nine Mr. and Miss Ludolph came in, and
paused at the table. Dennis, unnoticed, stood behind
Benjamin Franklin and Joan of Arc, placed lovingly together
on another counter, face to face, as if in mutual
admiration, and from his hiding place watched the scene
before him with intense anxiety. One thought only filled
his mind—would they approve or condemn his taste, for
he had arranged the table on a plan of his own. His
heart leaped up within him when Mr. Ludolph said—

“Why, Berder, this is excellent. To be sure you have
taken your own method, and followed your own taste, but
I find no fault with that, when you produce an effect like
this.”

“I declare, father, chimed in Miss Ludolph, “this table
pleases me greatly. It is a little oasis in this great
desert of a store. Mr. Berder, I compliment you on your
taste. You shall help me re-arrange, artistically, every
thing in the building.”

Dennis in his agitation, came near precipitating Benjamin
Franklin into the arms of Joan of Arc, a position
scarcely in keeping with either character.

“Yes, Christine, that is true,” continued Mr. Ludolph,
“Mr. Berder will be just the one to help you, and I am
glad you have found one competent. By all the furies!
just compare this table with the one next to it, where the
Past, Present, and Future have not the slighest regard for
each other, and satyrs and angels, philosophers and bandits

are mixed up about as closely as in real life. Here,
Berder, try your hand at this counter also; and you, young
men, gather round and see what a difference, when art
instead of mathematics rules the world of Art. If this
thing goes on, we shall have the golden age back again in
the store.”

Mr. Berder, though somewhat confused, had received
all his compliments with bows and smiles. But Dennis,
the moment the thrill of joy was over that he had pleased
Mr. and Miss Ludolph's fastidious taste, felt himself reddening
with honest indignation that Mr. Berder should
carry off all his laurels before his face. But he resolved
to say nothing, knowing that time would right him. When
Mr. Ludolph asked the young men to step forward, he
came with the others.

“That's right, Fleet,” said Mr. Ludolph again, “you
can get a useful hint, too, like enough.”

“Nonsense, father,” said Miss Ludolph, in a tone not
so low but that Dennis heard it, “why spoil a good sweeper
and duster by putting uppish notions in his head. He
keeps the store cleaner than any man you ever had, and I
don't soil my dresses as I used to.”

Dennis's color heightened a little, and his lips grew
firmer together, but he gave no other sign that he heard
this limitation of his hope and ambition. But it cut him
rather deep. The best he could ever do, then, in her view,
was to keep her dresses from being soiled.

In the meantime Mr. Berder had shown great embarrassment
at Mr. Ludolph's unexpected request. After a
few moments of awkward hesitation he stammered out
that he could do it better alone. The suspicion of keen
Mr. Ludolph was at once aroused, and he persisted—

“O come, Mr. Berder, we don't expect you to do you
best in a moment, but a person of your taste can certainly
make a great change for the better in the table before you.”

In sheer desperation the entrapped youth attempted
the task, but he had not bungled five minutes before Mr.
Ludolph said sharply.

“Mr. Berder, you did not arrange this table.”

“Vell,” whined Mr. Berder, “I didn't say dat I did.”

“You caused us to believe that you did,” said Mr. Ludolph,
his brow growing dark. “Now, one question, and
I wish the truth: Who did arrange this table?”

“Vleet, dare, helped me,” gasped Mr. Berder.

“Helped you? Mr. Fleet, step forward, if you please,
for I intend to have the truth of this matter. How much
help did Mr. Berder give you in arranging this table?”

“None, sir,” said Dennis, looking straight into Mr.
Ludolph's eyes.

All looked with great surprise at Dennis, especially
Miss Ludolph, who regarded him most curiously. How
different he appears from Pat Murphy, she again thought.

“Some one has told a lie, now,” said Mr. Ludolph
sternly. “Mr. Fleet, I shall put you to the same test that
Berder failed in. Arrange that counter sufficiently well
to prove that it was your hands that arranged this.”

Dennis stepped forward promptly, but with a pale face
and compressed lips. Feeling that both honor and success
were at stake, he grouped and combined every thing
as before, as far as the articles would permit, having no
time to originate a new plan. As he worked, the clerks
gazed in open astonishment, Mr. Ludolph looked significantly
at his daugnter, while she watched him with something
of the same wonder which we have when one of the
lower animals show human sagacity and skill.

Mr. Ludolph was Napoleonic in other respects than his
ambition and selfishness. He was shrewd enough to
“promote on the field for meritorious services.” Therefore,
as Dennis's task approached completion, he said—

“That will do, Mr. Fleet, you can finish the work at

your leisure. Mr. Berder, you are discharged from this
day for deception. I would have borne with your incompetency
if you had been truthful. But I never trust any
one who has deceived me once,” he said, so sternly that
even Christine's cheek paled. “Mr. Schwartz will settle
with you, and let me never see or hear from you again.
Mr. Fleet, I promote you to Mr. Berder's counter and
pay.”

Thus this man of the world, without a thought of pity,
mercy, or kindly feeling in either case, gave one of his
clerks a new impetus towards the devil, and another an
important lift up to better things, and then went his
way, congratulating himself that all things had worked
together for his good, that morning, though where he would
find another Dennis Fleet to fill Pat's place, now vacant
again, he did not know.

But Miss Ludolph looked at Dennis somewhat kindly,
and with a little honest admiration in her face. He
was so different from what she had supposed him to be as
a matter of course, and had just done in a quiet manly
way a thing most pleasing to her, so she said with a smile
that seemed perfectly heavenly to him,—

“You are above blacking boots, sir,” and then thinking
that a cut at his discomfited rival would gratify him,
she turned to Mr. Berder and said, “And you, sir, it
seems, are fit for nothing else.”

She would have known her mistake if she had heard
Dennis's soliloquy when left to himself, “How could she
hit him when he was down.”