"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.