Mr. Berder had looked at Dennis’s quick, skilful motions in blank amazement, and then broke out into an unwonted panegyric for him: “I say, Vleet, dot’s capital! Where you learn him?” Then in a paroxysm of generosity he added, “Dere’s a quarter for you.”
“No, I thank you,” said Dennis, “I did not do it for money.”
“Vat did der fool do it for, den, I’d like to know?” muttered Mr. Berder, the philosophy of bid life resuming its former control. “Saved a quarter, anyhow, and, vat’s more, know vere to go next dime der 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 gave a glad bound 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 rearrange, artistically, everything 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 slightest regard for each other, and satyrs and angels, philosophers and bandits, are mixed up about as closely as in real life. Here, Berder, try you hand at this counter also; and you, young men, gather round and see the 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, after his thrill of joy at having 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 closed more firmly, 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: “Oh, come, Mr. Berder, we don’t expect you to do your 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 dot I did.”
“You caused me 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, dere, 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.
“Someone 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 everything 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 daughter, while she watched him with something of the same wonder which we have when one of the lower animals shows 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
