Dominie Dean

hey died before the month, and the last left 'Thusia an invalid, and even Doctor Benedict lacked the skill to aid her. A maid-hired girl, we call

of it bit by bit and not as a single great catastrophe. She was "not herself" and then "no

usework, had more time to use her hands. Once, when some petty bill worried David, she asked if she could not take in sewing, but David would not hear of it. There are some things a dominie's wife cannot be allowed to do to help h

down again. If his kindly cheerfulness was at all forced we never guessed it. He was the same big-hearted, friendly Davy he had always been, bet

's cousin-in-law, however that may be. She came to Riverbank jingling golden bracelets and rustling silken garments, and for a while attended services with Seth and his wife, but

blacks. Her low-hung carriage was for many years thereafter a common sight in Riverbank. As Lucille furnished it her house seemed to us palatial in its elegance. It overpowered those who saw its interior; she certainly managed to get everything into the rooms that they would hold-even to a grand piano and a huge gilded harp on which she played with a great show of plump arms. All this mass of furnishings and bric-à-brac was without taste, but to Riverbank it was impressive. She had, I remember, a huge cuckoo clock she had bought

spent hours on it-and if a single hair managed to exist unwaved, uncurled or untwisted it was not Lucille's fault. Yet somehow she managed to make all this flummery and curliness impressive; in her heart she hoped the adjective "qu

nday school as the door. The Sunday school fell entirely under her sway in a very short time, partly because Mrs. Prell, the wife of the superintendent, had social ambitions, and urged Mr. Prel

ldren, litt

their R

acelets as her horses' bridles j

The hot-tempered old German did it. He swore at her, got red in the face, perspired. It was like pouring water on a duck's back, but some drops clung between the feathers, and Luc

old Schwerl the hidden director of the choir, with Lucille as the jingling, rustling figurehead. So, step by step, Lucille became a real power in the chu

a salon-of which she should be the star-in Riverbank. She soon found that the wit and wisdom of our small Iowa town was not willing to sit in a parlor and talk about Michael Angelo. The women were abashed before the culture they imagined Lucille to have. The men simply did not come. Not to be defeated, Lucille organized a "literary society." By including only

t up" at Lucille's mansion instead of at a hotel as formerly. When the men of the town wished signatures to a petition, or money subscriptions to any promotion scheme-such as the new street railway-the first thought was: "Get Lucille Hardcome to take it up; she'll put it through." In such affair

endent: as if he were a useful but unimportant church attachment, but otherwise not amounting to much. It was not until the affair of th

key, and was immediately lost in the rough bass and shrill treble of the congregational vocal efforts. Later, when the Hardcomes came to Riverbank and Ellen Hardcome's really excellent soprano suggested a quartet choir, the "new" organ had been bought. It was thought to be a splendid instrument. In appearance it was a sublimated parlor organ, a black walnut affair that had Gothic aspirations and arose in unaccoun

red that seven, at least, of our congregation went over to the Episcopalians on account of the pipe organ. The Methodists were but a year or two later. I do not remember whether the Congregationalists were a year before or

r church music than she began her campaign for a pipe organ. By that time the "new" organ was the "old" organ and actually worse than the old "old" organ had ever been. It was in the habit of emitting occasional uncalled-for groans and squeaks and at times all its efforts were accompanie

but probably the logic of his repair work was based on a wrong premise. We never knew, when Merkle entered the church on a Saturday

ust pump with one foot, or not touch some three or four of the "stops." She did her best and, but for the rankling thought that the other churches were listening to glorious pipe organ strains, I dare say we would have been satisfied

r and that the church must have a pipe organ if she had to work night and day for it, we kne

of the hand. She hardly knew whether to be jauntily joyous or crushed with fear. Her eyes were unwontedly bright, and her cheeks, which had not glowed for years, burned red. The very Fri

rvice, Mr. Dean. I try to make the old organ praise the Lord but-of course I don't mean anything I shouldn't-

the Old Harry is in the old wal

en she laughed a shamed little laugh. "That is just wha

in silence, nerving her

all right-do you think it would be proper-if I a

iselle Moran was a Catholic, and not only a Catholic but the niece of Father Moran, the priest, and his housekeeper, and the organist of St. Bridget's. The lessons would mean that Miss Jane must go to St. Bridget's; they would be given on the great organ there,

r yet?" asked David, s

se!" gasped Miss Jane. "Why, I haven't had time! I only

is giving up her pupils, Benedict says. Father Moran is worried about her health; Benedict says Mademoiselle is trying to do

ried little Miss Jane ecsta

ped into the manse to sit awhile in David's study under the motto "Keep an even m

d said. "I grow stale for someone to wrangle with. You're a fal

oth Catholics, Davy. You'd love each other. You'd have some beautiful fights. I can't hold my own against him; he's

over your good sherry and

Chopin and all those fellows. He scolded me about our church music. I went for him, of course, on that; bragged about our choir. 'Ah, yes I' he smiled through that thick, brown beard of his; 'and I 'ave heard of your organ!'

t spoke to Father Moran. The old doctor knew just how to handle the good-natur

a chance to better the thing you scolded me about, and you hesitate! Oh, tut! about Mademoiselle's health! Let her give up another of he

twinkled. He loved to have anyone pretend to bulldoz

hen we get our new organ and Miss Hurley learns to play i

emoiselle play, and you say I am afraid! Bon! E

eration. She patted little Miss Hurley on the thin s

ot until she had consulted David, and had been assured that accepting such a favor from the niece of the priest was not at all wrong, would Miss Hurley agree. Then the lessons began, Miss Hurley always "my leetle St. Cecilia" to Ma

erself. Mademoiselle walked to the organ loft with a brisk, businesslike tread and Miss Hurley followed her timidly. From somewhere Father Moran appeared, smiling, and patted Miss Hurley's shoulder. No man had patted Miss Hurle

onometry and discovered he did not know the multiplication table beyond seven times five. Miss Hurley hardly knew the rudiments of music; harmony, thoroughbass and all the deeper things, that Mademoiselle

other person, Mademoiselle would have thrown up her hands and turned her back on the impossible task, but she liked Miss Jane sincerely. I think she loved the little old maid. It must be remembered that St. Bridget's was Irish and in those days many of the Irish in Riverbank were fresh from the

daling and fingering, that must be explained and

r me"-she made the organ boom with a tumult of sound-"for me, yes! I am beeg and strong.

een the pipe organ you are going to give us. Where is it?" Old Wiggett, who liked Lucille, chuckled. Perhaps he knew from the first that he would give the organ. Lucille set his daughter, Mary Derling, to coaxing, and primed unsuspecting old ladies to speak to Mr. Wiggett as if the organ was a certainty. She had Mort Walsh, the architect, prepare a plan for taking out a portion of the rear wall of the church without disturbing the regular services. She took a group of lad

ed in the words of Mrs. Peter Minch, uttered as s

like that we will have to have mor

id. "Jane Hurley and a pipe

r in which money could be raised to pay a satisfactory organist. They did not consider Miss Hurley as a possibility at all. She had done well enough with the old organ, and it had been pleasant for her, and well for the church, that she had been

s Hurley has been taking lessons from M

'Onward, Christian Soldiers' for the Sunday school, I don't obj

a pipe organ, Miss Hurley should be our organist. She is lo

her eyes David saw the reso

aid, "that she is to continue as our orga

David read in her face: "Well, if that's who is to play the pipe

ithful struggling with the miserable instruments she has had to do with, it would be better to le

caught in the trap he had prepared for her spiri