CHAPTER VIII. A NEW FRIEND
At that early hour there were no customers in the shop, but Roberta sawthree young women of widely varying ages who were dusting and puttingthings in order for the business of the day. Mr. Queerwitz went at onceto a tall, spare woman of about fifty whose light, reddish hair suggestedthat the color had been applied from without.
"Miss Peerwinkle," he said rather abruptly, "here's the new clerk I wastelling you about. You'd better show her the lay of things before it getsbusy."
Miss Peerwinkle turned, and her washed-out blue eyes seemed to look downat Roberta from the great height where, at least, she believed that herposition as head saleslady at the Queerwitz antique shop had placed her.
"Your name, Miss?" she inquired when the proprietor had departed toward arear door labeled "No admittance."
Bobs had been so amused by all that she had seen that she hardly heardthe inquiry, and when at last she did become conscious of it, for onewild moment she couldn't recall her new name, and so she actuallyhesitated. Luckily just then one of the girls called to Miss Peerwinkleto ask her about a tag, and in that brief moment Bobs remembered.
When the haughty "head lady" turned her coldly inquiring eyes againtoward the new clerk, Roberta was able to calmly reply, "Dora Dolittle."
Miss Peerwinkle sniffed. Perhaps she was thinking it a poor name for anefficient clerk to possess. Bobs' sense of humor almost made her exclaim:"I ought to have chosen Dora Domuch." Then she laughingly assured herselfthat _that_ wouldn't have done at all, as she did not believe that there_was_ such a name and surely she _had_ heard of Dolittle.
Bobs' soliloquy was broken in upon by a strident voice calling: "MissDolittle, you're not paying any attention to what I am saying. Right hereand now, let me tell you day-dreaming isn't permitted in this shop. I wastelling you to go with Nell Wiggin to the cloakroom, and don't be gonemore'n five minutes. Mr. Queerwitz don't pay salaries for prinking."
Bobs was desperately afraid that she wouldn't be able to get through themorning without laughing, and yet there was something tragic about thehaughtiness of this poor Miss Peerwinkle.
Meekly she followed a thin, pale girl of perhaps twenty-three. The twowho were left in the shop at once began to express their indignationbecause a new clerk had been brought in for them to train.
"If ever anybody looked the greenhorn, it's her," Miss Peerwinkleexclaimed disdainfully, and Miss Harriet Dingley agreed.
They said no more, for the new clerk, returning, said, "What am I to dofirst?" Unfortunately Roberta asked this of the one nearest, who happenedto be Miss Harriet Dingley. That woman actually looked frightened as shesaid, nodding toward her companion, "Don't ask me. I'm not head lady. Sheis."
Again Bobs found it hard not to laugh, for Miss Peerwinkle perceptiblystiffened and her manner seemed to say, "You evidently aren't used toclass if you can't tell which folks are head and which aren't." But whatshe really said was: "Nell Wiggin will show you around, and do be carefulyou don't knock anything over. If you do, your salary's docked."
"I'll be very careful, Miss Peerwinkle," the new clerk said, but she wasthinking, "Docked! My salary docked. I know what it is to dock a coalbarge, for I have one in front of my home, but----"
"Oh, Miss Dolittle, please do watch where you go. You almost ran intothat Venetian vase." There was real kindness and concern in the voice ofthe pale, very weary-looking young girl at her side, and in that momentBobs knew that she was going to like her. "Poor little thing," Bobsthought. "She looks as though some unkind Fate had put out the light thatought to be shining in her heart. I wish that I might find a way torekindle it."
Very patiently Miss Nell Wiggin explained the different departments inthe antique shop. Suddenly she began to cough and sent a frightenedglance toward the closed door that bore the sign "No Admittance," thenstifled the sound in her handkerchief. Nothing was said, but Robertaunderstood.
The old furniture greatly interested Bobs. In her own home there weremany beautiful antiques. Casually she inquired, "How does Mr. Queerwitzmanage to obtain so much rare old furniture?"
To her surprise, Nell Wiggin looked quickly around to be sure that no onewas near, then she said: "I'd ought not to tell you, but I will if you'llkeep it dark."
"Dark as the deepest dungeon," Roberta replied, much puzzled by hercomrade's mysterious manner. The slight girl drew close. "He makes itbehind that door that nobody's allowed to go through," she said in a lowvoice; then added, evidently wishing to be fair, "but that's nothingunusual. Lots of dealers make their antiques and the public goes onbuying them knowing they may not be as old as the tags say. Here, now,are the old books, and at least they are honest."
Bobs uttered a cry of joy. "Oh, how I do wish I could have charge of thisdepartment," she said. "I adore old books."
There was a light in the pale face of little Miss Wiggin. "I do, too,"she said. "That is, I love Dickens; I never read much else." Then, almostwistfully, she added: "I didn't have much chance to go to school, butonce, where I went to live, I found an old set of Dickens' books thatsomeone had left, and I've just read them over and over. I never go outnights and the people living in those books are such a lot of company forme."
Again Bobs felt a yearning tenderness for this frail girl, who wassaying, "They're all the friends I've ever had, I guess."
Impulsively the new clerk exclaimed, "I'll be your friend, if you'll letme." Just then a strident voice called, "Miss Wiggin, forward!"
"You stay with the books," Nell said softly, "and I'll do the china."
Bobs watched the slight figure that was hurrying toward the front, andshe sighed, with tears close to the hazel eyes, and in her heart was aprayer, "May I be forgiven for the selfish, heedless years I have lived.But perhaps now I can make up for it. Surely I shall try."
Roberta had been told by Mr. Jewett that she must not reveal to anyoneher real reason for being at the antique shop, and, as Mr. Queerwitz hadno faith in the girl's ability to waylay a pilferer, he did not care tohave Miss Nell Wiggin devote more time to teaching her the business ofselling antiques. This information was conveyed by Miss Peerwinkle toNell, who was told to stay away from the new clerk, with the addedremark: "If she didn't get on to the ropes with one hour's showing, she'stoo stupid for this business, anyhow."
Why the head lady had taken such a very evident dislike to her, Bobscould not understand, for surely she was willing to do whatever she wastold. Ah, well, she wasn't going to worry. "Worrying is what makes oneold," she thought, as she mounted a small step-ladder on casters that onecould push along the shelves. From the top of it she examined the booksthat were highest. Suddenly she uttered an exclamation of delight, thenlooked about quickly to be sure that she had not been heard. Customers inthe front part of the store occupied the attention of the three clerks,so Roberta reached for a volume that had attracted her attention. It wasindeed rare and old, so very old that she wondered that the covers didnot crumble, and it had illumined letters. "Perhaps they were made byearly monks," Bobs was thinking. She sat down on the ladder and beganturning the fascinating pages that were yellow with age. Suddenly she wasconscious that someone stood near her. She looked up to find the accusinggaze of the head clerk fixed upon her.
Bobs was startled into exclaiming: "Say, Miss Peerwinkle, a cat hasnothing on you when it comes to walking softly, has it?"
The reply was frigidly given: "Miss Do-little," with emphasis, "you aresupposed to dust the books, not read them; and what's more, thatparticular book is the rarest one in the whole collection. There's a mateto it somewhere, and when Mr. Queerwitz finds it, he can sell the two ofthem to Mr. Leonel Van Loon for one thousand dollars in cool cash."
Roberta was properly impressed, and replaced the book; then, taking aduster, she proceeded to tidy her department.
At eleven o'clock Bobs wondered if she ought to wander about the shop andwatch the occasional customer. This she did, and was soon in theneighborhood of
Miss Wiggin. "You're to go out to eat when I do," Nelltold her.
"I'm glad to hear it," was the reply.
Promptly at noon Miss Wiggin beckoned and said: "Come, Miss Dolittle, beas quick as you can. We only have half an hour nooning, and every minutecounts. I go around to my room. You might buy something, then come withme and eat it."
Roberta could hardly believe what she had heard. "Only half an hour towash, go somewhere, eat your lunch and get back?
"Why the mad rush?" she exclaimed. "Doesn't Mr. Queerwitz know there'sall eternity ahead of us?"
A wan smile was the only answer. Miss Nell Wiggin was not wasting time.She led the way to the cloakroom, donned her outdoor garments, and then,taking her new friend by the hand, she said: "Hold fast to me. We'll takea short cut through the back stockroom. It's black as soot in there whenit isn't lit up. Mr. Queerwitz won't let us burn lights except forbusiness reasons."
Bobs found herself being led through a room so dark that she could barelysee the two walls of boxes that were piled high on either side, with anarrow path between.
They soon emerged upon a back alley, where huge cans of refuse stood, andwhere trucks were continually passing up and down or standing at the backentrances of stores loading and unloading.
"Now walk as fast as you can," little Miss Wiggin said, as away she wenttoward Fourth Avenue, with Roberta close behind her. If Bobs had knownwhat was going to happen that noon, she would not have left the shop.