an 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.

[Illustration: _"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 passed 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?"

"Away up on the Cocahutchie River. I came here early this morning."

"What's your name?"

"John Ogden."

"Come with me, John Ogden. You may have a seat in my pew. Come."

Into the church and up the middle aisle Jack followed his leader, with
a sense of awe almost stifling him; then, too, he felt drowned in the
thunderous flood of music from the organ. He saw the man stop, open a
pew-door, step back, smile and bow, and then wait until the boy from
Crofield had passed in and taken his seat.

"He's a gentleman," thought Jack, hardly aware that he himself had
bowed low as he went in, and that a smile of grim approval had followed
him.

In the pew behind them sat another man, as haughty looking, but just
now wearing the same kind of smi