Crowded Out o' Crofield; or, The Boy who made his WayStoddard, William O.
General
Crowded Out o' Crofield; or, The Boy who made his Way
Stoddard, William O.
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction
The blacksmith then went to work in earnest: and meanwhile Mary, at the
house, was receiving the congratulations of her friends. "Why, Mary
Ogden, my dear! Are you here?" exclaimed Miss Glidden. "I'm so glad!
I'm sure I did all I could for you." "My dear Mary!" exclaimed
another. And Mary shook hands heartily with both her callers, and
expressed her gratitude to Miss Glidden.
It was a day of triumph for Mary, and it must have been for Miss
Glidden, for she seemed to be continually persuading herself that much
of the credit of Mary's advancement was hers. The neighbors came and
went, and more than one of Mary's old school-fellows said to her: "I'm
glad you are so fortunate. I wish _I_ could find something to do."
When the visitors were gone and Mary tried to help with the housework,
her mother said positively, "Now, Molly, don't touch a thing; you go
upstairs to your books, and don't think of anything else; I'm afraid
you won't have half time enough, even then."
Her aunt gave the same advice, and Mary was grateful, being unusually
eager to begin her studies; and even little Sally was compelled to keep
out of Mary's room.
During the latter part of that Monday afternoon John Ogden had an
important conference with Mr. Magruder, the railway director; and the
blacksmith came home, at night, in a thoughtful state of mind.
His son Jack, at about the same time sat in his room, at the Hotel
Dantzic, in the far-away city he had struggled so hard to reach; and
he, too, was in a thoughtful mood.
"I'll write and tell the family at home, and Mary," he said after a
while. "I wonder whether every fellow who makes a start in New York
has to almost starve at the beginning!"
He was tired enough to sleep well when bed-time came; but,
nevertheless, he was downstairs Tuesday morning long before Mr.
Keifelheimer's hour for appearing. Hotel-men who have to sit up late
often rise late also.
"For this once," said Jack, "I'll have a prime Dantzic Hotel breakfast.
After this week, my room won't cost me anything, and I can begin to lay
up money. I won't ride down town, though; except in the very worst
kind of winter weather."
It delighted him to walk down that morning, and to know just where he
was going and what work he had before him.
"I'm sure," he thought, "that I know every building, big and little,
all the way along. I've been ordered out of most of these stores. But
I've found the place that I was looking for, at last."
The porters of Gifford & Company had the store open when Jack got
there, and Mr. Gifford was just coming in.
"Ogden," he said, in his usual peremptory way, "put that press-work on
the paper-bags right through, to-day."
"One moment, please, Mr. Gifford," said Jack.
"I've hardly a moment to spare," answered Mr. Gifford. "What is it?"
"A customer," said Jack; "the Hotel Dantzic. I can find more of the
same kind, perhaps."
"Tell me," was the answer, with a look of greater interest, but also a
look of incredulity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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