A Dear Little Girl's Summer Holidays

by Amy Ella Blanchard

  CHAPTER XI

  OLD NORTH CHURCH

  "I am so mixed up in my feelings," said Edna in confidence to Dorothywhen they were seated in the train. "I want awfully to see them all athome, but yet I hate to leave here."

  "I feel exactly that way myself," Dorothy confessed. "But even if weweren't going to-day we couldn't stay very long, for the house will beclosed next week, and we shouldn't want to stay there alone."

  Edna admitted that this was true, and then Jennie came over to sit withthem and they talked of the things they were to see and the places theywere to go in the next two days.

  "I think we will go to the Old North Church first," said Mrs. Ramseyas they left the train. "We will send the baggage to the hotel, then wewill not have to come to this part of the city again."

  "Oh, what a funny place," said Jennie, as they took their way throughstreets where queer-looking foreigners congregated.

  "I think the people are funnier than the place," remarked Edna.

  "They are mostly Polish or Russian Jews," Mrs. Ramsey told her. "Itis not the neighborhood it was in Paul Revere's day. Here is the oldchurch."

  The children looked with awe and reverence at the ancient edifice, and,going inside, were shown some of the Revolutionary relics which werethere on exhibition. Just as they were coming out they met a young mancoming in.

  "Hallo!" he cried in surprise.

  "Why if it isn't Ben," cried Edna delightedly. "Why Ben Barker how didyou get here?"

  "I might ask you the same question," he replied.

  "We came by train."

  "And I came by boat. I thought it was a shame to be so near this cityand not stop off to see a few things, so I got my friends to let me offand left the yacht to go on to New York while I should stop here forcouple of days."

  "That is just what we are going to do."

  "Good! then maybe we can join forces."

  "That would suit me nicely," put in Mrs. Ramsey. "My husband willnot be down till to-morrow evening in time to take the train for FallRiver, and meantime I have these three little girls on my hands and noman to look after us, so if you will come along to see about ticketsand things I should be pleased."

  So Ben fell into line to the great satisfaction of all. "Where were yougoing next?" he asked.

  "As long as it is such a pleasant day I thought we'd better make sureof Lexington and Concord, and leave the places nearer at hand tillto-morrow. Of course you will want to visit Harvard, and the childrenhave talked of the glass flowers so much that they must see them. Whileyou are visiting other points more interesting to you, we will look atthe flowers."

  "Then, ho, for Lexington! We must take a subway car, and seek the'rude bridge' where 'the embattled farmers stood to fire the shot heard'round the world.'"

  The little girls did not quite understand this till Emerson's poem wasexplained to them.

  "Oh, I do want to see the place where the British general said:'Disperse, ye rebels,'" cried Dorothy.

  "Then we'd better trot right along," said Ben. "You and I will goahead, Mrs. Ramsey, and lead the way."

  But Jennie wanted to walk with her mother too, and so the other twolittle girls dropped behind to pursue their way through the crookedstreets where odd sights met their eyes; queerly dressed women andchildren jostled them; at the doors of houses swarthy faces and strangeforms appeared. The shop windows held many things the children hadnever seen before, and once or twice they stopped to see what thesevery unusual articles could be.

  "Do look here, Edna," said Dorothy as they were passing oneparticularly foreign looking place. "I must see what those funny thingsare," and she turned back, Edna following her.

  "We mustn't stop," said Edna, "for we might lose the others."

  "Oh, just for a second. They are right ahead and we can't miss them."But they could not decide what the funny things were and so went on.

  "Why, where are Ben and Mrs. Ramsey?" said Edna in alarm. "I saw them aminute ago."

  "They were right ahead of us when we stopped," said Dorothy, hasteningher steps. "They must have turned the corner."

  They hurried along as fast as possible, turning the corner and lookingaround. But there was no sign of their friends, and after they had gonea short distance, "we'd better go back," Dorothy said.

  They tried to retrace their steps, but it was a very crooked streetwith others leading from it, and in their bewilderment they took thewrong turning, so that in a few minutes they were hopelessly beyondany possibility of finding their companions. They looked at one anotherconfronted by a problem.

  "What shall we do?" at last said Edna in a weak voice.

  With one consent they stood still and looked around as if hoping to seea familiar face, but here was a denser crowd of foreigners and only thedark eyes of Russians and Poles met theirs.

  "I don't like it a bit here," said Dorothy as a hideous old womanleered down at them.

  "Neither do I," quavered Edna. "I think we'd better ask our way back tothe church and start from there."

  They accosted the first person they saw, who happened to be a younggirl, but at their question she shook her head. "No unnystan," shereplied.

  The next one questioned nodded and began to jabber something in aforeign language, so it was the children's turn to say, "No unnystan."The next of whom they inquired the way spoke brokenly, but said hewould put them on the right track, and under his guidance they managedto reach the church, and here they met a man in clerical dress wholooked down at them with a smile. "Did you come to see the old church?"he asked. "I am going in, and perhaps you would like to come with me."

  "We have been here once this morning," Dorothy told him, "but we havelost our friends and don't know which way to go."

  "Where were they going?"

  "Why, I don't know, I think to the subway."

  "Oh, that is easy to find. I will call a policeman and he will take youalong and show you." He looked up and down the street and finally saw apoliceman in the distance, and he was coming toward them.

  "There he is," said the man. "Just wait till he comes up. I say, Mike,"he called to the policeman, "just show these little girls the way tothe subway, won't you? They have turned the wrong way and are out oftheir bearings." He smiled down on the children, lifted his hat andpassed into the church, leaving the children with the policeman.

  "Which way was you going?" asked the policeman pleasantly.

  "We were going to Lexington," Edna told him.

  "Then I'll go with you to the end of my beat and pass you along, so'syou'll get on at the right place."

  They walked quietly along wondering a little, as passers-by looked atthem curiously, if it was supposed they were under arrest. They felt agood deal worried, but had a vague idea that the others would wait forthem at the subway, wherever that might be.

  True to his word the policeman turned them over to another of his orderwhen they had reached the end of his beat, and this one piloted themsafely to the entrance of the subway. They had said so confidently thatthey were going to Lexington that neither man questioned, but that theyknew the way once they had reached the proper station.

  They descended the steps with some misgivings, for if Mrs. Ramseyand Ben were not there what was to be done next? They had never beenin the subway before for Mrs. Ramsey had wanted them to see the citystreets when they had visited the city in the summer, and had taken ataxicab to go up town. Mr. Ramsey had done the same when they arrivedon their journey in his company. A most bewildering place they foundthis same subway to be, full of people rushing for trains, noisy fromthe whizzing of cars from out of cavernous dark places and departinginto equally unknown darkness. It seemed terrible to the two littlegirls and they were on the verge of tears. Impossible to find anyone insuch a place as this. Best to get out of it as speedily as they could.The roaring of passing trains was so confusing, the jostling of thecrowd was so unpleasant that the children held fast to one another andhurried up the steps and into the open air.

 
"Oh, dear," sighed Edna.

  "Oh, dear," echoed Dorothy. "Wasn't it terrible? I felt as if I werehaving a dreadful nightmare."

  "I felt as if my head had been taken off and they were rolling it upand down the car tracks." This relieved the tension a little and theyboth laughed. "Now what are we going to do?" said Dorothy.

  They stood on the sidewalk looking this way and that, uncertain whatwould be the best move. Presently a lady who had just come out of thesubway, paused and looked at them. "Have you lost anything, littlegirls?" she asked kindly.

  "We've lost our way and our friends," Edna told her.

  "My, my, that is a great deal to lose. Where do you want to go?"

  "We were going to Lexington, but it was so awful down there," Ednanodded toward the door through which they had just come, "and we wouldnot go back for the world."

  The lady smiled. "But what about your friends? Do they live inLexington?"

  "Oh, no, we are all staying at the Parker House. We went to see theOld North Church, and we were going to Lexington and Concord, all ofus, but somehow we got separated from them, and we couldn't find themanywhere."

  "We knew they were coming to the subway, for Ben said so," Dorothychimed in, "and we thought we might find them there. A policeman showedus the way."

  "That was like looking for a needle in a haystack," said the lady, "foryou didn't know which of the subway stations they meant, did you? Thereare a great many, you know."

  "We didn't know, for we never went down there before. We thought thesubway was just one station, like the one we came into from the shore."

  "Oh, I see. Well, I am a stranger in town too, that is, I don't livehere, although I know Boston pretty well. I am staying at the ParkerHouse, and as it isn't so very far from here, I think your best planwill be to go to the Parker House with me and wait there. I am sureyour friends will think that is what you would be likely to do, andwill make inquiries there before starting up an alarm for you."

  "Oh, do you think they would do that? Do you mean they would ring bellsor anything?" Dorothy asked with a vague idea of what might be done inthe case of lost children.

  "They mightn't ring bells," said their friend with a smile, "but theywould notify all the police stations."

  Edna nodded. "That's what papa did when I was lost. I wasn't reallylost, only I was afraid of the cattle and I went up the steps so fast Ifell and Mrs. Porter lived there; she was a friend of mine, you know."Dorothy had heard all about this adventure before, and their new frienddid not press inquiries. She felt sure the children would be anxiouslylooked for and that it was best to get them to their hotel as soon ascould be.

  It gave the two little girls a great sense of security to enter theplace from which they had departed that morning, and they were heartilyglad to reach the building. They found out that their kind acquaintancewas named Mrs. Cox, and that she was from Washington. She told theclerk, at the desk, that if Mrs. Ramsey or any of her party came in ortelephoned inquiries, that they were to be told instantly the littlegirls were there.

  "I am always getting lost, it seems to me," said Edna plaintively, "andyet I am never really lost, or I wasn't before this time, only peoplewill keep thinking I am. You know, Dorothy, I was perfectly safe atthe bungalow when Louis thought I was lost, and I was perfectly safe atMrs. Porter's when papa and mamma thought I was lost."

  "And you are perfectly safe now when Mrs. Ramsey thinks you arelost," added Dorothy in a somewhat aggrieved tone. She felt a littleconscience-stricken, knowing she was to blame in this instance, for itwas she who insisted upon stopping to look in at the shop window.

  They had not very long to wait, for from their place in the receptionroom, where Mrs. Cox told them it would be best to sit, they presentlysaw Ben hurrying along, a worried look on his face. The two childrensprang out. "Here we are," they cried.

  Ben rushed over and grabbed them both. "You young lunatics," heexclaimed, "don't you know better than to get yourselves lost in a citylike Boston?"

  "We didn't mean to, Ben," said Dorothy meekly.

  "You didn't mean to," mimicked Ben in a mocking voice. "Well, you havescared us nearly to death, if that is any consolation to you."

  "Where are Mrs. Ramsey and Jennie?" asked Edna, fearing one orthe other might be in hysterics for Ben's manner was anything butreassuring.

  "They are in a cab trying to follow you up. Mrs. Ramsey said she wouldgo over the ground we had just left when we missed you, and in themeantime I was to come here, if by any chance you had sense enough tocome straight back to the hotel."

  The children looked at each other with rather abashed faces, for theyhad not had sense enough to do that, and might not have thought of itbut for Mrs. Cox.

  "Before you give an account of yourselves," Ben went on, "I musttelephone to Mrs. Ramsey and relieve her mind. We agreed that I wasto do that and settled on a drug store where she would go to get anymessage I might have." He rushed off, leaving the little girls feelingvery guilty. After all that Mrs. Ramsey had done for them to give herso much uneasiness, struck them both as being very heartless.

  "I wish that old window was in the bottom of the sea before I everstopped to look in," presently said Dorothy vindictively.

  Edna made no reply. She knew that it was not the fault of the window,but of their own curiosity and heedlessness. They should have keptdirectly behind their friends, she well knew. Her mother had told hertimes enough that it was cowardly to blame inanimate objects for thingswhich we were to blame for ourselves, and Aunt Elizabeth went furtherand said no one but a person without any wits would abuse a senselessthing for what was his own thoughtlessness or carelessness.

  But she was spared moralizing upon this to Dorothy, for Ben returnedsaying that Mrs. Ramsey would be here in a few moments and that theexpedition to Lexington and Concord would be given up for the day, asit was too late now to undertake so long a trip. He was quite grumpyabout it and the little girls were most unhappy at being under hisdispleasure, for Ben was usually the sunniest of persons and rarelygave them a cross look. He did not stay to talk to them now, but wentto the door to meet Mrs. Ramsey when she should return and the childrensat one at either end of the sofa, silent and downcast.

  Mrs. Cox had not waited for further developments once she had seen thather charges were safe, and had gone out again. After what was a longtime to the two culprits they saw Mrs. Ramsey and Ben approaching withJennie. At sight of them Edna could no longer restrain her tears, butburst into a noiseless fit of weeping, and Dorothy, seeing this, beganto do the same.

  This was too much for Ben. He was very fond of his little cousinand hated to see her cry. "Here, here," he cried, "don't do that.Why, Ande, you are safe now. What's the use of crying when it's allover?" He sat down beside her and began to wipe away the tears. "Isay, Mrs. Ramsey," he went on, looking up, "it is really my fault asmuch as theirs. In that thickly settled part of the city, among allthose crooked streets, I ought to have kept a better lookout for thesechildren, and we don't know yet how it happened, anyhow. I haven't evenasked them. They may have been knocked down or anything else may havehappened for all we know."

  The two felt that this was very generous of Ben, and their tears flowedless plentifully. Mrs. Ramsey drew up a chair and said in a pleasant,confidential tone, "Now tell us all about it. How did it happen?"

  The children faltered out an explanation in which the queer thingsin the shop-window, the hideous old woman, the man at the church andthe subway all figured. Once or twice Mrs. Ramsey repressed a smile,though for the most part she listened very soberly. At the close of thenarrative she turned to Ben. "It is just as you said; we ought to havekept better watch upon them. One of us should have walked with theminstead of leaving them to follow alone."

  Ben nodded. "That's just what I think. Now, chicks, dry your eyes. Weare going to have an early lunch and go somewhere, to see the glassflowers, very likely."

  "Yes," put in Jennie, "please don't cry any more, girls. It makes meso miserable to see you. I m
ight have done the same thing if I had beenwith you."

  Thus comforted, the girls dried their eyes and followed Jennie and Mrs.Ramsey upstairs to bathe their faces and get ready for lunch. It wastoo bad to have lost a whole morning, but there could be a great dealcrowded into an afternoon, and, by the time the glass flowers had beenfound, peace reigned and everyone was happy.

  There was a drive around the beautiful parkway that evening and a visitto the splendid library that night. "We shall have to leave PlymouthRock till another year," Mrs. Ramsey remarked as they set out for theirtrip the next morning. "I think you will enjoy Lexington and Concordmore than a rather longer journey by water as you have just come fromthe seashore." This time there was no delay and there was plenty of timeto visit the old battle-field, to see the brown house where dear LouisaAlcott used to live, to hunt up Emerson's home and the spot endeared bymemories of Hawthorne. Ben was intensely interested in it all and toldthe girls many things which made them understand much better what theywere seeing.

  They must return in time to meet Mr. Ramsey at the Parker House, andto get ready for their journey home, but there was a chance to walkthrough the botanical gardens and the Commons, to look across at thegilded dome of the State House, and to see the church where the greatPhillips Brooks had preached.

  It was hard to part with Jennie and her mother, but the thought ofhome and the dear ones there was too happy an anticipation to cause anytears to be shed, and the little girls went off with a memory of Bostonmarred only by that unfortunate shop window in the foreign quarter.