The audience smiled. Rev. Frederick Hartzel was on his feet instantly: "Ladies and gentlemen, I must protest. I do not doubt but that your young brother here means well, but perhaps some of us, with more experience, and with more mature thought, are better able to handle this great question. Such a plan as he has proposed is preposterous. A committee without an ordained minister on it, thinking to start any movement in harmony with the teaching of Christ is utter folly. It is a direct insult to the clergy, who, as you know, compose the finest body of men, intellectually and morally, in the country. I must insist that the regularly ordained ministers of the city be recognized on this committee."
Rev. Hugh Cockrell agreed with Hartzel, in a short speech, and then
Uncle Bobbie Wicks obtained a hearing.
"I don't reckon that there's much danger of Brother Hartzel's amendment goin' through, but I just want a word anyhow. To-be-sure, you all know me, and that I'm a pretty good friend to preachers." The audience laughed. "I aint got a thing in the world agin 'em. To-be-sure, I reckon a preacher is as good as any other feller, so long as he behaves himself; but seein' as they've been tryin' fer 'bout two thousand years to fix this business, an' aint done nothin' yet, I think it's a mighty good ide' to give the poor fellers a rest, and let the Christians try it fer a spell."
"You've got to recognize the church, sir," cried Hartzel; and Uncle
Bobbie retorted: "Well, if we recognize Christ, the church will come
in all right, I reckon;" which sentiment so pleased the people that
Cameron's suggestion was acted upon.
And thus began the movement that revolutionized Boyd City and made it an example to all the world, for honest manhood, civic pride and municipal virtue.
CHAPTER XX
When Amy Goodrich went to her room after the scene with her brutal father, wounded pride, anger at his injustice, and reckless defiance filled her heart. Mrs. Goodrich had heard the harsh words and quietly followed her daughter, but the door was locked. When she called softly for admittance, Amy only answered between her sobs, "No, no, mamma; please go away. I want to be alone." But the girl did not spend much time in weeping. With a look of determination upon her tear-stained face, she caught up a daily paper that was lying where she had dropped it that morning, and carefully studied time-cards. Then removing as far as possible the evidence of her grief, she changed her dress for a more simple and serviceable gown, and gathering together a few necessary articles, packed them, with her jewelry, in a small satchel. She had finished her simple preparations and was just writing the last word of her brief farewell message, when Mrs. Goodrich came quietly to the door again.
Amy started to her feet in alarm when she heard the low knock, and then as she listened to her mother's voice softly calling her name, the hot tears filled her eyes once more, and she moved as though to destroy the note in her hand. But as she hesitated, her father's words came back: "You may have your tramp, but don't call me father. You are no daughter of mine," and a cruel something seemed to arrest her better impulse and force her to remain silent.
Mrs. Goodrich, when she received no answer to her call, thought that her daughter was sleeping, and with a sigh of relief, went to her own room. A little later, the father came upstairs and retired. Then Frank returned home, and the trembling listener heard the servants locking up the house. When all was still, and her watch told her that it was a few minutes past midnight, she carefully opened the door, and with her satchel in her hand, stole cautiously down the stairs and out of the house. Hurrying as fast as she could to Broadway, she found a cab, and was driven to the depot on the east side.
As Amy stepped from the vehicle beneath the electric light and paused a moment to give the driver his fare, a man came out of a saloon on the corner near by. It was Mr. Whitley. He recognized the girl instantly, and springing to one side, drew back into the shadow of the building, where he waited until she went to the ticket office. Then going quickly to the open window of the waiting room, he heard her ask for a ticket to Jonesville. After the train had pulled in and he had watched her aboard, he entered the cab that had brought her to the station, and was driven to his hotel.