THE SIXTH DIAMOND G310

 THE SIXTH DIAMOND

It was my first job, working as a temporary salesgirl during the Christmas rush at Richardson's, the finest jewelry store in our city.

The job was very important to Mother and me. Dad had passed away and Mother and I did not have enough to live on in those hard Depression years. After graduation, I had spent the summer and fall hunting for a job. Dozens of better-trained persons had been turned down before me. There were just not enough jobs for the number of people out of work. Finally I had managed to get the temporary job at Richardson's.

The department where I worked sold cheap jewelry. It was the kind of work that I liked. I could sell things just by listening to people and finding out what they really wanted. By the end of the first week the head of the department was saying very nice things about me. By the end of the second week she was saying good-by— Mr Richardson, the owner, was sending me to the diamond department.

“It's an honor, you know,” she told me. “Generally we only send our regular people there. Mr Richardson wants a quick, neat girl, someone who can run errands.”

The diamond department was the heart and center of the store. It sold both precious stones and the better kinds of jewelry. My duties were to arrange the goods, keep them clean, help out in the workroom and, above all, run errands.

It was interesting work that I enjoyed thoroughly.

As Christmas drew near, the days became more rushed, but also more exciting. I really loved my work. My only worry was that January would find me hunting for a job again.

One afternoon I heard Mr Richardson say to Mr McCallum, head of the diamond department, “Tell me about the little runner. I like her. She's a cheerful child.”

Part of the reply reached my ears. “Yes,” Mr McCallum said, “she's a good girl. I've been meaning to suggest keeping her on ...” That was all, but it sent me home feeling as if I were on top of the world!

But the next day started badly. And it kept right on that way. I had to run for my bus and got my stockings dirty. Miss Allan, Mr McCallum's assistant, who wanted her people always neat, ordered me to go out and buy another pair. I came back to find that the girl who was working with me was ill and had been sent home. It was only a week until Christmas— the busiest time of the year. We were all nervous.

At 4:30 a call came from Miss Allan. “Please get me the diamond ring from the end showcase,” she said.

As I hurried back, with the ring in my hand, I looked up and noticed a man on the other side of the row of showcases. He was tall, fair and in his early thirties. But it was the expression on his face that stopped me even as I hurried toward Miss Allan's room. It was the look of a great many people in those unhappy Depression years. He looked bitter, angry, bewildered. His well-cut suit, shabby now, told me his story. He was one of thousands trained for jobs they could no longer find. He gazed at the beautiful stones with the despair of a man whose right to earn them has been taken away.

I had a sudden feeling of sympathy. But I had other things on my mind and soon forgot about him.

A few minutes later Miss Allan called for me again.

“Now get the clip that goes with this ring,” Miss Allan said.

The clip was at the very front of the window. To reach it meant climbing up a small set of steps and carefully leaning over the jewelry and other goods on display. I got it. Just as I was backing out, my sleeve caught on the corner of a tray of diamonds. The tray started to fall. I grabbed at it, and six magnificent diamond rings rolled across the floor.

Mr McCallum ran to help me, upset and excited, but not really angry at me. He knew what a day I'd been through. “Pick them up quickly,” he said, “and put the tray back.”

Down on my knees, I said through my tears, “Oh, Mr McCallum, Miss Allan is waiting”

“I'll see to Miss Allan myself, child,” he said. *“Just pick up those rings”*

With the greatest speed I collected five rings and put them in the tray. But I couldn't find the sixth！ I thought it must have slipped through the tiny opening between the showcase and the window. I ran around the counter and looked down. It wasn't there. Just then, out of the corner of my eye I saw the tall man moving quietly toward the door of the shop. a few yards away. At that moment I knew that he had the ring. He had been standing at the only spot to which it could have rolled. I reached him just as he got to the door.

“Excuse me, please,” I said.

He turned, and for an endless minute neither of us spoke. I prayed for some way to save my future in the diamond department. To drop a tray of rings was bad, but that would be forgiven. To lose a ring was unthinkable.

“What do you want?” he asked. He seemed to be a bit nervous.

What should I say? disaster could come to me from what I was sure he'd done. Yet I felt he hadn't come into the store planning to steal. Perhaps he had just wanted to get warm.

“What do you want?” he repeated. Suddenly I had the answer. Mother had always told me people are generally kind. I didn't think this man would want to hurt me. I looked out into the cold fog outside. “This is my first job,” I said softly. “Jobs are hard to get now, aren't they?”

He searched my face, then smiled a very gentle smile. “Yes,” he said. “Indeed they are. But I'm sure you'll do very well in yours. May I wish you luck?”

He put his hand out and clasped mine. “Good luck to you,” I whispered. He opened the door and disappeared in the fog. Then I turned and put the sixth diamond in the tray.