Crowded Out o' Crofield Part 25

Jack shook hands with his friends, and walked out into the street.

"Well, here I am!" he thought. "This is the city. I'm all alone in it, too, and I must find my own way. I can do it, though. I'm glad it's Sunday, so that I needn't go straight to work."

At that moment, the nine o'clock bells were ringing in two wooden steeples in the village of Crofield; but the bell of the third steeple was silent, down among the splinters of what had been the pulpit of its own meeting-house. The village was very still, but there was something peculiar in the quiet in the Ogden homestead. Even the children went about as if they missed something or were listening for somebody they expected.

There were nine o'clock bells, also, in Mertonville, and there was a ring at the door-bell of the house of Mr. Murdoch, the editor.

"Why, Elder Holloway!" exclaimed Mrs. Murdoch, when she opened the door. "Please to walk in."

"Thank you, Mrs. Murdoch, but I can't," he said, speaking as if hurried, "Please tell Miss Ogden there's a cla.s.s of sixteen girls in our Sunday school, and the teacher's gone; and I've taken the liberty of promising for her that she'll take charge of it."

"I'll call her," said Mrs. Murdoch.

"No, no," replied the elder. "Just tell her it's a nice cla.s.s, and that the girls expect her to come, and we'll be ever go much obliged to her. Good-morning!"--and he was gone.

"Oh, Mrs. Murdoch!" exclaimed Mary, when the elder's message was given.

"I can't! I don't know them! I suppose I ought; but I'd have said no, if I had seen him."

The elder had thought of that, perhaps, and had provided against any refusal by retreating. As he went away he said to himself:

"She can do it, I know; if she does, it'll help me carry out my plan."

He looked, just then, as if it were a very good plan, but he did not reveal it.

Mary Ogden persuaded Mrs. Murdoch to take her to another church that morning, so that she need not meet any of her new cla.s.s.

"I hope Jack will go to church in the city," she said; and her mother said the same thing to Aunt Melinda over in Crofield.

Jack could not have given any reason why his feet turned westward, but he went slowly along for several blocks, while he stared at the rows of buildings, at the sidewalks, at the pavements, and at everything else, great and small. He was actually leaving the world in which he had been brought up--the Crofield world--and taking a first stroll around in a world of quite another sort. He met some people on the streets, but not many.

"They're all getting ready for church," he thought, and his next thought was expressed aloud.

"Whew! what street's this, I wonder?"

He had pa.s.sed row after row of fine buildings, but suddenly he had turned into a wide avenue which seemed a street of palaces. Forward he went, faster and faster, staring eagerly at one after another of those elegant mansions of stone, of marble, or of brick.

"See here, Johnny," he suddenly heard in a sharp voice close to him, "what number do you want?"

"Hallo," said Jack, halting and turning. "What street's this?"

He was looking up into the good-natured face of a tall man in a neat blue uniform.

"What are you looking for?" began the policeman again. But, without waiting for Jack's answer, he went on, "Oh, I see! You're a greeny lookin' at Fifth Avenue. Mind where you're going, or you'll run into somebody!"

"Is this Fifth Avenue?" Jack asked. "I wish I knew who owned these houses."

"You do, do you?" laughed the man in blue. "Well, I can tell you some of them. That house belongs to--" and the policeman went on giving name after name, and pointing out the finest houses.

Some of the names were familiar to Jack. He had read about these men in newspapers, and it was pleasant to see where they lived.

"See that house?" asked the policeman, pointing at one of the finest residences. "Well, the man that owns it came to New York as poor as you, maybe poorer. Not quite so green, of course! But you'll soon get over that. See that big house yonder, on the corner? Well, the cash for that was gathered by a chap who began as a deck-hand. Most of the big guns came up from nearly nothing. Now you walk along and look out; but mind you don't run over anybody."

"Much obliged," said Jack, and as he walked on, he kept his eyes open, but his thoughts were busy with what the policeman had told him.

That was the very idea he had while he was in Crofield. That was what had made him long to break away from the village and find his way to the city. His imagination had busied itself with stories of poor boys,--as poor and green as he, scores of them,--born and brought up in country homes, who, refusing to stay at home and be n.o.bodies, had become successful men. All the great buildings he saw seemed to tell the same story. Still he did say to himself once:

"Some of their fathers must have been rich enough to give them a good start. Some were born rich, too. I don't care for that, though. I don't know as I want so big a house. I am going to get along somehow.

My chances are as good as some of these fellows had."

Just then he came to a halt, for right ahead of him were open grounds, and beyond were gra.s.s and trees. To the right and left were buildings.

"I know what this is!" exclaimed Jack. "It must be Central Park. Some day I'm going there, all over it. But I'll turn around now, and find a place to go to church. I've pa.s.sed a dozen churches on the way."

CHAPTER XIII.

A WONDERFUL SUNDAY.

When Jack turned away from the entrance to Central Park, he found much of the Sunday quiet gone. It was nearly half-past ten o'clock; the sidewalks were covered with people, and the street resounded with the rattle of carriage-wheels.

There was some uneasiness in the mind of the boy from Crofield. The policeman had impressed upon Jack the idea that he was not at home in the city, and that he did not seem at home there. He did not know one church from another, and part of his uneasiness was about how city people managed their churches. Perhaps they sold tickets, he thought; or perhaps you paid at the door; or possibly it didn't cost anything, as in Crofield.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _"How would he get in?"_]

"I'll ask," he decided, as he paused in front of what seemed to him a very imposing church. He stood still, for a moment, as the steady procession pa.s.sed him, part of it going by, but much of it turning into the church.

"Mister--," he said bashfully to four well-dressed men in quick succession; but not one of them paused to answer him. Two did not so much as look at him, and the glances given him by the other two made his cheeks burn--he hardly knew why.

"There's a man I'll try," thought Jack. "I'm getting mad!" The man of whom Jack spoke came up the street. He seemed an unlikely subject. He was so straight he almost leaned backward; he was rather slender than thin; and was uncommonly well dressed. In fact, Jack said to himself: "He looks as if he had bought the meeting-house, and was not pleased with his bargain."

Proud, even haughty, as was the manner of the stranger, Jack stepped boldly forward and again said:

"Mister?"

"Well, my boy, what is it?"

The response came with a halt and almost a bow.

"If a fellow wished to go to this church, how would he get in?" asked Jack.

"Do you live in the city?" There was a frown of stern inquiry on the broad forehead; but the head was bending farther forward.

"No," said Jack, "I live in Crofield."

"Where's that?"