Locked Out.

Evening Post, Volume LXVIII, Issue 50, 27 August 1904, Page 10

Locked Out.

i * ■»—» — The organist, whose salary of five pounds per annuml paid in monthly instalments, was a perpetual reminder to him that humble folk must keep thoir place and never interfere in the quarrels of their betters, was careful to avoid intervention in tho polite discussion which had arisen in the neighbourhood of his instrument. Ho sat staring blankly at the pages of the tune-book. Around him, in that corner of tho chapel known as tho sing-ing-pew, w«re grouped two or three men, as many women, a few boys, and a couple of girls, their faces lightod by the gleam of a swinging lamp. High over them, on the right hand, towered the pulpit, ghostlike in its wrappings of white iioifan<f dust-sheets ; beyond ifiom lay the gloom of tho unlighted chapel. There was the mournful March wind sobbing among the elm trees outside. "Shall we go on again, Mm. Simpson" the organist said, meekly. "With due respect to you, Mestur Webster, as reckons to be organist and teacher," replied Mrs. Simpson, whose bonnet, dimly outlined against the pulpit, seemed to quiver a good deal us she spoke. "I should say 'at you'd better ask Mist Jeffcock. Them as reckons to know host should ha 1 the first right to speak." GRAND TOWN CHAPPILS. "I'm suro I don't want to make any unpleasantness," said Miss Jeffcock, feeling the appeal of a dozen pairs of eyes, " but really, Mrs. Simpson, I never heard tho tuno taken in that way before. In the chapel .that I attended before 1 camo " Oh, you needn't throw your grand town chappils up ut us, mm," interrupted Mrs. Simpson. "Wo all on us know 'at we'ro nobbut but poor iggerant villagers 84 never heerd nothing at all i' the way o' mewsic. But let me toll you, Mis« Jeffcock, 'at we've sung that there tewn i' this chappil for a many years, and it'a allaya been tekken i' that way — so now!" " Well, it'» wrong," repeated Miss Jeffcock. " I know, of course, that it's easy to fall into bud habits " s "Oh, is it, mm?" said Mrs. Simpson, with great sarcasm. " Bad habits, indeed 1 Well, I niver thought to be miscalled i' the chapil 'at I've attended iver sin' 1 were a young gel, nor 'at my husband *ud sit theer, quiet, to hear me accused o' such things." Mr. Simpson, who, in concert with the othor mon, had been engaged in endeavouring to penetrate the darkness, and to seem unconscious that anything was happening, wriggled uncomfortably in his seat and twiddled his big thumbs. "Why, Marier," he said at last. "I don't think 'at t' young lady means onny harm, and it's poor wark frntchin" i 1 t' chappil. Lots goo. on wi' t 1 practice — we hey a new town or two to try ower it, hovn't we, Mester Webster?" " I don't moan any harm, certainly," Mifa Jeffcock hastened to say, " but itr seems so silly to sing a tuno in the wrong way — it's just as easy to sing it in the right one. Now, Mr. Webster, what do you say?" Mr. Webster, who usually supped with Mr. and Mfs. Simpson after the weekly choir practice, played a few imaginary chords. " Well, you see, Miss Jeffcock," he replied. "We've always been in the habit of taking it in that way, as Mrs. Simpson says. We've, got used to that way, and it really doesn't matter." , ' "Oh!" said Miss Jeffcock. "Well, of course, if you like to turn crotchets into quavers and minims into eemibreves, yon can,-- but— •" LESSON IN PRONUNCIATION. "Beggin* your pardon, mm," said Mrs. Simpson, "but them Eyet&lian terms is beyond poor iggerant villagers, like th' j present comp'ny, 'cepfcin' yourself, mm. we' don't know nothing about them—we tek.a tewn fast or we tek it slow, occordin' as wo think good, and accordin' |to the hymn it's set to. If it's a rejoiein 1 sort' of hymn, up-liftin' to th* sperrits, as it were, we tek the tewn quick ; if it's a sorrowful hymn, about saa things, we tek it slow. So now, mm." '"And talking about words," snid Miss Jcffoock, " I might point out that there's a sad mistake in pronunciation in the line you were singing just now. You eaug it, 'And the koyri that dwell on high' —it should be pronounced kwires, Mrs. Siinnhon, not koyrs." "Thankin 1 you, mm, for your advice," said Mrs. Simpson, " but it's allays been held to be koyrs i* this chappil, and we've sat under as highly oddicated ministers i' that pulpit as what you have. And now," continued Mrs. Simpson, rising, and tying her bonnet-strings, "as theer's to be naught else, appoerantly, but fnult-findin'— a thing as has niver happened dewrin' the twolve years as I've beer letidin' singer i' thiß ohappil 1 — we'll consider tho practice at an end, theeir bein' no ewse 1' stoyin' to be contradioted at every turn. " So, Mestur Webster, you'll be pleased to lock up that theer American organ, what me an' Simpson bowt out o' my i butter an 1 ' egg money and pr*»ented to th 1 chappil, as any one con-«eo from th' brass plate as ornyinonts th' top, and you oan give me the key, and we'll go home. And I wish you good-night, Miss i Jeffcock, and many thanks for your hints and information, mm. I'm sure we ought to feel highly honoured 'at a town-browt-up lady like you should demean herself to sing wV the likes of us,',' THE LOST CHORDS. The organist wns not invited to sup at Mrs, Simpson's hospitable- board that night, and ho went home to the markettown five milei away feeling gloomy and sndj ' Noxt day meeting the minister, he told him of what had occurred, and the miniker went out to Buttorcron and tried to niake peace. Miss Jeffcock was reasonably nmenablo, but said she didr't lika, to bo made ridioulous by standing up jl{t a singing pew with people who mispronounced their words and disregarded the musio, and the minister went on to tako a cup of tea with Mrs. Simpson. He mount well, poor man, but he wade ft great mistake when he gently remarked thn^Misa Jeffcock might bo taken as ai' authority on matters of pronunciation, nnd^thnt she had passed an examination in Ringing at the Royal Academy of Music "Jfndeed, sir!" said Mrs. Simpson. " No? doubt in time Miss Jofjfcqok '11 nreeent'th 1 chappil with a, fine organ, like (hoy hoy' in th' church, and tho Ameri* can aa canto out of my butter-nn'-egg money '11 bo forgotten. Simpson, carvo th' minister a little more o' th' cold ham." It chanced that it was tho minister's 1 turn to officiate at But-tororon on. the (pi" .

I lowing Sunday, and when he arrived there he found Mr. Webster hovering in the vestry with an anxious fnce. " Mrs. * Simpson hasn't come with the key of tho oman," he explained. " I'll run Hcross and get it — I should think their clocks nre wrong." " Do," &aid the minister. " It's past service time now," and he went up into the pulpit and began the exercises. But presantly ho felt a big tug at hia sleeve, and ho looked down and saw Mr. Webster's white face. " Mrs. Simpson's taken her husband and all the children to Cornchestor in the trap,'" whispered Mr. Webster piteously. " And she's got the key of the organ with her, and she left word that she was quite sure wo could do without either her or the organ for once, and perhaps Miss Joffcock would etart the singing." T^ho minister sighed wearily, and, turning' to bis congregation, gave out a hymn. " I find," ho satid, " that owing to a little mistake wo shall have to dispense with instrumental music to-day. Wo must all sing our best and heartiest. " Then he struck tho tune himself.— J. S. Fletcher, in the Daily MaiL