The rector of St. Peter's sat in the vestry-room, which he used for his
study, when there came an interruption to the even tenor of his orthodox
thinking.
Whoever sought him did so with a determination that carried the various
doors between him and the study, and at last came the knock, of which he
sat in momentary dread. It expressed the outsider so imperatively, that
the minister at once laid aside his pen, and opened the door. And, alas!
it was Saturday, P. M.,--Easter at hand!
He should have been glad, of course, of the cordial hand-grasp with
which his stanch supporter, Gerald Deane, saluted him; but he had been
interrupted in necessary work, and his face betrayed him. It told
unqualified surprise, that, at such an hour, he had the honor of a visit
from the warden.
The warden, however, was absorbed in his own business to an extent that
prevented him from seeing what the minister's mood might be. He began to
speak the moment he had thrown himself into the arm-chair opposite Mr.
Muir.
"Do you know," said he, "what sort of person we've got here in our
organist?"
Indignant was the speaker's voice, and indignant were his eyes; he spoke
quick, breathed hard, showed all the signs of violent emotion.