Winnie Childs by C. N. Williamson

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The red-haired girl, who had from the first been a haunting mystery
for Win, was in the toy department. Her name was Lily Leavitt, and--as
Sadie had already told Win--she was "chucking herself" at Earl Usher's
head. At first Miss Leavitt "lamped" Miss Child "something awful." But
on the English girl's third Toy day a thing happened which converted
the enemy into a friend--an all too devoted friend.

It was now so near Christmas that in the department devoted to toys
and games you could not have placed a sheet of foreign notepaper
between mothers (with a sprinkling of aunts and grandmas) unless you
wanted it torn to pieces before you could count "One!" Children were
massed together in a thick, low-growing underbrush, and of their
species only babies were able to rise, like cream, to the top. The
air, or rather the atmosphere (since all the air had been breathed
long ago), was to the nerves what tow is to fire. Nobody could be in
it for ten minutes without wanting to hit somebody else or push
somebody else's child, little brute! out of the way.

What with heat, the rage for buying, impatience to get in and
impatience to get out, the fragrance of pine and holly decorations,
the smell of hot varnish and hot people and cheap furs, the babble of
excited voices and shrieks of exhausted children, it was the true
Christmas spirit. Peter Rolls's store in general, and the toy
department in particular, were having what would be alluded to later
in advertisements as an "unprecedented success."

Before Win came the folding chairs for "assistants" had all been
broken or out of order. But (no doubt, said Sadie) because of some
lingering suspicion that she might, after all, be an anti-sweat spy,
the springs or hinges were mysteriously repaired throughout the
department. By law any girl could sit down. By unwritten law she
mustn't, yet there were the chairs as good as gold and fresh as paint.
They were even pointed out to Win, but in the whirl of things the
moment after she forgot their very existence and never had time to
remember it again.

That third day in Toys was the most appalling she had known of all the
long, wild days at Peter Rolls's since coming in as an extra holiday
hand. Dozens of customers clamoured for her at once. Each female
creature seemed to have as many hands as Briareus, all reaching for
things they wanted, or gesticulating and brandishing money, or
snatching for change. If each distracted girl had had half a dozen
highly trained astral bodies with which to serve these terrible
ladies, it would not have been enough. More ladies would have come.

Yet (Win noticed with wondering admiration) some of the girls, those
most experienced and less easily rattled, did find opportunities to
polish their nails and pat their hair. They would turn as if to find
something "in stock," stoop quickly, taking advantage of the crowd
behind the counters, snatch out of their stockings tiny mirrors and
bags of powder or rouge, and "fix themselves," while their anxious
customers supposed they were diving for a toy. These were the girls
who kept their own perfumed soap and scent bottles in their lockers
and could afford becoming hats, whether or no they had money to buy
new underclothes and stockings when the old ones gave out.

Win, however, had neither experience enough nor desire to find time
for personal matters. She gave her whole soul to her work and wore
that pleasant Christmas smile which floorwalkers wish to see on
salesladies' faces. But her smile was only skin deep. She had never
liked her sister women less--cross, silly, snapping, inconsiderate
things, strutting and pushing about in skins and plumes of animals far
more agreeable and beautiful than themselves! Dangling all over with
poor little heads of dead creatures, just as if they were moving
butcher shops, and apparently without a sense of humour to tell them
what idiots they looked.

Yes, idiots! That was the word. And if they had enough humour to put
on a thumb nail, _could_ they wear the stick-out and stick-up
ornaments on their hats they did wear, to prod each other's eyes? No,
they couldn't! And what with feathers standing straight out behind,
and long corsets down to their knees, they could never lean back
against anything, no matter how tired they were. So, what with tight
dresses and high heels and thin silk stockings and low shoes and
blouses on winter days, no wonder men wouldn't let them have the vote!

Win turned from an incipient suffragette into a temporarily venomous
woman hater when a customer made her show nine dozen dolls, and then
minced away saying that Peter Rolls never did have anything worth
buying. Another patronizingly bestowed five cents upon Win for her
"trouble" after making her change three toys bought yesterday and
taking half an hour over it. Altogether, when Winifred Child happened
to think of Mrs. Belmont's building with the great figure of a woman
falling down the front of it, she would have liked the statue to drop
to earth with a crash.

Once in a while, contriving to pass near, Ursus tried to whisper a
word of encouragement:

"You're a Wonderchild, you are! Say, it don't spoil your looks bein'
tired. You're the picture postal, you are! Never you mind these dames.
Say the word and we'll make up with a large time to-night. I'll blow
you through all the best movies and stake you to an ice-cream, soda.
Do you get yes?"

Despite his well-meant solicitude, however, Win's vitality was at an
exceedingly low ebb toward five o'clock in the afternoon of the third
day. There had been no time to go out for an alleged luncheon and a
breath of fresh air. She had eaten nothing since her breakfast of hot
chocolate at a soda fountain, save a poached egg in the employees'
restaurant, and, as Sadie said, it wasn't safe to accept an egg from
the Hands unless you'd met the hen socially and knew her past. Since
four o'clock the exile had been thinking passionately of England, with
its millions of women sitting down--actually sitting down!--to tea.
And then, suddenly, a man pushed aside a female thing who was being
cross because she couldn't find a doll that said "Papa" and "Mama" in
German.

"As you can't get what you want, madam, I'm sure you won't mind my
taking your place," apologized a cheerful voice. "Madam" was so
dumfounded that she gave way. And Win, thankful for a change of sex in
her customer, had put on her polite saleslady air before she realized
that she was face to face with Jim Logan, her motoring acquaintance of
the park.

"Howdy do?" he inquired, and hastily added: "I want a doll. I don't
care whether she can talk German or not. Though I do want a little
conversation--with somebody."

Money could not be lost to the house of Rolls because one of its
female servants wished to snub an admirer. Mr. Logan was even better
dressed than when Win had seen him before. He looked rich enough to
buy Peter Rolls's star doll, price five hundred dollars, with
trousseau. Nevertheless Miss Child determined to outwit him.

"What kind of a doll?" she asked in a business-like tone, showing no
sign of recognition. "For a small girl or a large girl? And about what
price do you wish to pay?"

"Doll for a middle-sized girl," replied the customer, his twinkling
eyes on the young woman serving him. "I like large girls best, girls
exactly your size and age, twenty at most, and warranted to look
seventeen if given a day's rest and a pretty hat and a supper at
Sherry's--with the right man. I don't mind how much trouble I take
looking for a doll any more than I mind the trouble of looking for a
girl. This is a little sister of mine who has to have a doll. I like
other men's sisters better, but---"

"I think I know just what you want," said Win briskly. "If you'll be
good enough to wait here half a minute; I'll see that you get it."

Like a flash she was off, looking for Sadie. But Sadie was too far
away. Win didn't want the redoubtable Tobias to scold her for
neglecting customers, as she had heard him scold Lily Leavitt the day
before, when Lily was trying to flirt with Earl Usher. Close by was
Miss Lily Leavitt herself, looking bored to the verge of extinction by
an old lady who wished advice in choosing five presents for five
grandchildren. "Miss Leavitt," Win whispered, "would it be possible
for you to take my man, who wants a doll for a middle-aged sister--I
mean, middle-sized--and let me attend to your customer?"

Miss Leavitt threw a green-eyed glance at the man indicated, and said:
"Ginks! Ye-h!" as quickly as she could draw breath.

The immediate and brilliant success of the stratagem was as reviving
to tired Win as the encounter in the park had been. Her splendid
vitality came bubbling to the surface again, and she showed such an
interest in selecting the five grandchildren's presents that the old
lady thanked Providence for the exchange. No time, no trouble, was too
much, and grandma joyously wallowed in layers of toys produced for her
inspection.

Now and then, when the old lady was choosing between an aeroplane and
a train of cars, or a schoolroom and a Noah's ark, Win took an
eyelash-veiled look at Miss Leavitt and her customer. He had
apparently bought one doll, veiled like a harem woman, and was
hesitating over another. The grandmother of five was not the only
person needing advice, it seemed. The brother of one middle-sized
sister was evidently demanding it from Miss Leavitt.

In any case, their heads were close together over a Tango Tea doll who
tried to look as if she had been dressed by Poiret. It stood to reason
that a man might want a woman to tell him whether that was the sort of
thing a middle-sized child would like, but though their heads were
bent over the doll, their eyes turned occasionally toward Miss Child.

"Keep the change and buy yourself and your friends some little thing
for Christmas," Win heard Logan say at last when, discouraged by the
interminable length of grandma's visit, he had resigned himself to go
away.

The girl glanced involuntarily at Miss Leavitt's hand, which was
clenched into a fist. In it was a crisp-looking new greenback on which
at one end she thought she saw the word "Ten."

Ten dollars! The man had made Lily Leavitt a present of ten dollars,
and she had accepted it! Would he have tried to do the same with
_her,_ or would he have attempted to be even more generous if she had
not been chaperoned by the grandmother of five? Also, was it just the
Christmas spirit, or had Lily done something special to earn the
money?

CHAPTER XVIII

THE BIG BLUFF

Lily Leavitt's gratitude was immense. She was a changed girl from that
moment. Not that she ceased to like Earl Usher, who awkwardly resented
her overtures and was boyishly ashamed of them, but her jealousy
seemed, after the handing over of Mr. Logan, to lose its bitterness.

She no longer glared and talked "at" Miss Child, asking if she "wore
her hair that way for a bet," and "why some people wanted to take up
all the room clerking in stores when they could get better money doing
giantess stunts in a Bowery show?" Instead she did her best to make
friends with Win and her smart little watchdog, Sadie Kirk.

She brought them presents of hothouse fruit and chocolates, which Win
refused and Sadie nonchalantly accepted, wondering "where the Leavitt
creature picked 'em up. They didn't grow on blackberry bushes, no
fear. And _she_ wasn't going to let 'em spoil!"

As the desperate days before Christmas raged furiously on, Win was
still unable to guess Mr. Meggison's real motive for putting her into
the toy department. Her duties were more exhausting than they had been
downstairs That suggested penance. On the other hand, they had more
variety and amusement, for there were five hundred different kinds of
toys to sell to five hundred different types of people. That suggested
benignity.

Perhaps, thought Sadie, Meggison wanted to see how much the new girl
could stand. Perhaps he wished to "sweat out of her" all the work of
which she was capable, the full wage worth she could give to Peter
Rolls before casting her aside forever.

Or--it was just possible that, instead of exciting resentment she had
won his respect by "cheeking" him. That had been known to happen in
the most unexpected, though now historic cases. And girls who had
awaited their discharge had been promoted, mounting slowly higher and
higher over the bodies of those who fell by the wayside, until they
had become head buyers, receiving ten thousand dollars a year and a
trip to Paris every summer.

In any case, Win liked Toys better than Blouses, though Mr. Tobias
(whose hair "left off where it began," and who wore his eyes in bags)
was a very "different proposition" from Fred Thorpe, the kind and
handsome floorwalker who loved Dora Stein, yet was fair to her rivals.
If Tobias saw a young woman stop to breathe he came up and reminded
her that this wasn't a matinee--they weren't having a party that day
nor serving five-o'clock tea.

The girls, too, were often rough in their ways and pushed each other
rudely about. They were surlily suspicious sometimes and seemed
temperamentally unable to trust one another, but they were
good-natured at heart. "Snap and let snap" was the unwritten law in
Toyland, and though they all squabbled among themselves, if a girl
were ill or had bad news her companions were ready in an instant to
help or console.

They mimicked Win and gave her the same nickname she had gained
downstairs, "Miss Thank-you," "Beg-your-pardon," and "If-you-please."
But soon she found herself popular, and saw the girls, and even the
men, adopting the gentler ways she brought among them. They seemed
half unconsciously to fall into the soft manner they made fun of,
which was a score for Win. Besides, there was Cupid, and he alone, she
thought, would have been worth the move from Blouses into Toys.

Cupid was an errand boy, employed to run with messages from one
department to another; but, though in Toyland there were some dolls
larger, there were none more beautiful than he. His real name happened
to be Billy Slate, but he rejoiced in several others more appropriate
such as "Bud," "Christmas Card," and "Valentine" That of "Cupid" was
added to the list by Miss Child, who had more scientific, mythological
knowledge of the youth in question than any one else at the Hands
perhaps, though most of the others could boast a more intimate
personal acquaintance with him in modern life.

Billy, _alias_ "Bud," _et cetera_, was a permanent fixture at Peter
Rolls's, having been in his present position for some time and
possessing no ambition to better it, though he had reached the mature
age of "twelve, going on thirteen." He had resisted the blandishments
of all the prettiest girls in the store, but for some reason fell a
victim to Miss Child at first sight; perhaps because she was English
(his parents came from Manchester), or perhaps because she treated
him, not like a little boy, but like a man and an equal. He adored
her promptly and passionately, and she responded, out of which arose a
situation.

Cupid sometimes received presents of violets or Malmaison pinks from
admiring customers, gifts which he spurned with the weary scorn of a
matinee idol for love letters, but had been willing to barter for sums
varying from one cent to five, according to the freshness of the
flowers. When Win drifted into his life, however, all tribute which
Cupid received was laid upon her altar. He would take no money--her
smiling thanks were worth more to him than the brightest copper coins
from others--and an offer of candy was politely but firmly refused.

"Pooh! Miss Child, I can get all of that stuff I want, on my face, off
the girls in the candy dep," he explained with a blase air. "You keep
it for you and your friends, and I'll get you more. I'm tired of sweet
things myself."

And from that time on Win's attenuated meals were eked out by Cupid's
presentation chocolates and marshmallows. Of the latter--a novelty to
her--she and Sadie were very fond. They seemed nourishing, too, or, at
all events, "filling," and came in handy when you had allotted
yourself only five cents for luncheon. As soon as Cupid learned his
loved one's penchant for marshmallows he contrived to produce a few
each day, even if he had to "nick" them when the "candy girls" weren't
looking.

The morning of Christmas Eve (the day which, Win knew, would decide
her fate at the Hands) Cupid appeared with a whole box of her
favourites instead of the five or six crushed white shapes he
generally offered in a torn bit of clean paper.

"Why, Cupid, how did you come by this gorgeousness?" asked Win, who
had half a minute to spare in the luncheon lull.

"Don't you worry and get a wrinkle, kid," replied the youth, who had
permission to apply any pet name he pleased. "The stuff's mine, all
right. And now it's yours. Unless you think I sneaked it. Then you can
chuck it away, box and all. See?"

"Of course I don't think you sneaked it. You wouldn't do such a thing.
But--ought I to take it? That's the question."

"'It's foolish question 786245,'" quoted Cupid with his weariest
sneer. "I'm the guy what put the nut in cokernut! I guess there'll be
more where this come from in the sweet by and by."

Win eyed him anxiously. Now where had she heard that quotation about
the "foolish question?" Why, it was a slang phrase of Mr. Logan's. He
had used it only that morning, about half an hour earlier, in gay,
bantering conversation with Miss Leavitt. He "blew in," as he called
it, nearly every day now to buy something more for his "little
sister's Christmas tree," something that he had forgotten yesterday,
or to inquire earnestly after the sale of a mechanical frog, which he
claimed as his own invention and patent. He had never succeeded in
getting Win to serve him, but he was as free to look at her as a cat
is free to look at a king.

Apart, however, from telling glances which Miss Child never seemed to
see, Mr. Logan appeared quite satisfied with the attentions of Miss
Leavitt or Sadie Kirk, who had waited upon him once or twice when Lily
was not available.

Suddenly an idea flashed into Winifred's head.

"Did a man give you this box for me?" she inquired.

"Ain't I man enough?" Cupid tried bluff to hide a flush that mounted
to his yellow curls.

"Answer me. You _must_."

"Ain't you some chicken to go on askin' silly questions about a good
thing? You just take it, kid, and be thankful"

"I can't, Cupid. I thought you liked me."

"You bet I do, sweetie."

"Then you wouldn't want to cheat me about such a thing, would you? I'm
fond of you, Cupid, and we're friends, so I can accept presents from
_you_. But I don't take them from strange men, and I should hate to
feel you cared little enough for me to play such a joke. It would get
me misunderstood."

Flattered by this appeal to and acceptance of his manhood, Cupid
confessed.

"Well, don't have the nasty old stuff, then," said he. "I thought I
was doin' you a good turn. Thought gells liked strange men makin' 'em
presents. The feller said 'twould be good business for you as well as
me. And he tipped me fifty cents to pass you on the box. Suppose I
must hand it back to him now."

"Do, Cupid dear," urged Win. "But you shan't lose by that. I know you
meant no harm, and I'll give you fifty cents myself when I get my
pay."

"What kind of a jay do you take me for?" snorted Cupid. "Men don't
accept no lucre from ladies where _I_ live. I'll go chuck the guy back
his marshmallers and his dirty money, since you put it that way, my
baby doll."

"Where is he? Waiting for you somewhere to hear the news?"

Cupid tossed his curls in the direction of the moving staircase, which
in Toyland was known as the "Oscillator." A bored-looking youth was
stationed officially at the top in order to catch any ascending lady
who might threaten to fall; but as only the oldest and frailest ever
did so, his bored expression had become chronic.

"Chap's down at the foot o' that," confessed the boy. "But say, won't
you just look and see if there's a note under the cover? Maybe he's
slipped in a Christmas gift of a hundred-dollar bill or a diamond
tiarey."

"I've no curiosity," said Win. "You may tell your friend that,
and---"

"Oh, _I_ know! Tell him he'd darned better not try the same snap
again."

"Yes," laughed Win. "Exactly."

Cupid darted away with the box, striding down the "osculator" as it
came rolling up, a feat forbidden. But the boy was a law unto himself
and was seldom scolded. When he had gone Win wished that she had
thought to ask how the man had found out her liking for marshmallows
But perhaps he had invited a suggestion from Cupid. Or the
marshmallows might be a coincidence.

She did not for an instant doubt that the would-be giver was Mr.
Logan, and she half hoped there was a note inside the box, in order
that he might feel the mortification of getting it back unopened. She
hoped, also, that the disappointment might be a lesson which Mr. Logan
would take to heart, and--unless he were prepared to transfer his
attentions to Miss Leavitt or some one else equally ready to receive
them--that he would not again invade the busy land of toys.

An hour later, however, he returned and loitered about, ostentatiously
waiting until Miss Leavitt should be free to serve him. Win was
showing dolls to a fussy woman who could not be satisfied with the
most beguiling porcelain or waxen smile. At last, having looked at
several dozens, she flounced away, announcing that she would go to
Bimgel's. This threat, being uttered in a voice intentionally shrill,
was overheard by the hovering floorwalker, Mr. Tobias.

He had never yet had occasion to scold No. 2884; and, as a matter of
fact, had noted her as a "lively proposition." He had seen that if
2884 had a few minutes to spare, she usually occupied them, not in
polishing her nails or talking about last night's dance, as not a few
of the girls did, but in "looking over stock," peeping into boxes, and
peering into the background of shelves in order to see for herself
what was available without having to question salespeople who had been
longer in the department than she.

This was the sure sign of a "winner"; and besides, 2884 had the right
way with customers. She kept her temper, even with the most irritating
"lemons." Her charming enthusiasm about the toys and her knowledge of
their mechanism (when they had any) often hypnotized customers into
buying expensive things they had not intended to take. With remarkable
quickness she had picked up slang danger signals by which one
"assistant" can warn another of impending trouble.

She understood the warning cry of "ishra ankra" for a "crank," and
could give the pencil taps telegraphing from counter to counter that a
notorious "pill" or an "I'll-come-back-again" was bearing down on the
department. She seemed to know by instinct when she could offer to
send a toy C.O.D. for a stranger without fear of "cold pig"--having
the thing returned unpaid--and she could give enough of her own
vitality to a tired woman to make her want to buy.

All these virtues Mr. Tobias had discerned in 2884, and with such
heart as he had, he admired her. He intended, if she went on as she
had begun, to "set the good word going" which would reach those "at
the top." But now, at a moment when he happened through acute
indigestion to be in a particularly fretful mood, he believed that he
had found out the "bright girl" in a grave fault.

It was too late to inveigle the lost client back, but while Win was
hastily replacing dolls in boxes before taking another customer, Mr.
Tobias pounced. "Why did you let that lady go without showing her any
of our best dolls?" he inquired, angling for guilt in her soul's
depths with a fishhook glare.

"I showed her everything of the price she wanted, and even some a
little higher," 2884 excused herself.

"What about the doll you all call 'Little Sister?'" Tobias threw out
the question as if it were a lasso. "I hear you've said that you won't
part with that one if you can help it."

Win grew pink, though she firmly gave him back look for look. Little
Sister was her favourite doll, and it was an open secret that Miss
Child didn't wish to sell it unless she could be sure of finding it a
suitable and happy home. In fact, she hated the thought of a sale.
Many Teddy bears and other interesting personalities she had learned
to like, and to miss when they went the way of all good Teddy animals;
but Little Sister she loved, and to barter that adorable sunny head,
those laughing brown eyes and dimples, for money seemed almost as bad
as the auctioning of a child in the slave market. If she had had
twenty dollars to play with she would have bought the doll for
herself. As it was, she had to plead guilty to Mr. Tobias's charge.

She changed her look of self-defence to one more deprecating yet half
mischievous; not the look of a scolded girl to an accusing
floorwalker, but that of charming young womanhood to man.

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