CHAPTER IV.
MUSIC AND PAINTING.
Philip went home alone from the party, out of sorts with himself, angrywith Azalia, and boiling over with wrath toward Paul. He set his teethtogether, and clenched his fist. He would like to blacken Paul's eyesand flatten his nose. The words of Azalia--"I know nothing againstPaul's character"--rang in his ears and vexed him. He thought upon themtill his steps, falling upon the frozen ground, seemed to say,"Character!--character!--character!" as if Paul had something which hehad not.
"So because he has character, and I haven't, you give me the mitten, doyou, Miss Azalia?" he said, as if he was addressing Azalia.
He knew that Paul had a good name. He was the best singer in thesinging-school, and Mr. Rhythm often called upon him to sing in a duetwith Azalia or Daphne. Sometimes he sang a solo so well, that thespectators whispered to one another, that, if Paul went on as he hadbegun, he would be ahead of Mr. Rhythm.
Philip had left the singing-school. It was dull music to him to sitthrough the evening, and say "Down, left, right, up," and be drilled,hour after hour. It was vastly more agreeable to lounge in the bar-roomof the tavern, with a half-dozen good fellows, smoking cigars, playingcards, taking a drink of whiskey, and, when it was time for thesinging-school to break up, go home with the girls, then return to thetavern and carouse till midnight or later. To be cut out by Paul in hisattentions to Azalia was intolerable.
"Character!--character!--character!" said his boots all the while as hewalked. He stopped short, and ground his heels into the frozen earth. Hewas in front of Miss Dobb's house.
Miss Dobb was a middle-aged lady, who wore spectacles, had a sharp nose,a peaked chin, a pinched-up mouth, thin cheeks, and long, bony fingers.She kept the village school when Paul and Philip were small boys, andPaul used to think that she wanted to pick him to pieces, her fingerswere so long and bony. She knew pretty much all that was going on inthe village, for she visited somewhere every afternoon to find out whathad happened. Captain Binnacle called her the Daily Advertiser.
"You are the cause of my being jilted, you tattling old maid; you havetold that I was a good-for-nothing scapegrace, and I'll pay you for it,"said Philip, shaking his fist at the house; and walked on again,meditating how to do it, his boots at each successive step saying,"Character! character!"
He went home and tossed all night in his bed, not getting a wink ofsleep, planning how to pay Miss Dobb, and upset Paul.
The next night Philip went to bed earlier than usual, saying, with ayawn, as he took the light to go up stairs, "How sleepy I am!" But,instead of going to sleep, he never was more wide awake. He lay till allin the house were asleep, till he heard the clock strike twelve, thenarose, went down stairs softly, carrying his boots, and, when outsidethe door, put them on. He looked round to see if there was any oneastir; but the village was still,--there was not a light to be seen. Hewent to Mr. Chrome's shop, stopped, and looked round once more; but,seeing no one, raised a window and entered. The moon streamed throughthe windows, and fell upon the floor, making the shop so light that hehad no difficulty in finding Mr. Chrome's paint buckets and brushes.Then, with a bucket in his hand, he climbed out, closed the window, andwent to Miss Dobb's. He approached softly, listening and looking to seeif any one was about; but there were no footsteps except his own. Hepainted great letters on the side of the house, chuckling as he thoughtof what would happen in the morning.
"There, Miss Vinegar, you old liar, I won't charge anything for thatsign," he said, when he had finished. He left the bucket on the step,and went home, chuckling all the way.
In the morning Miss Dobb saw a crowd of people in front of her house,looking towards it and laughing. Mr. Leatherby had come out from hisshop; Mr. Noggin, the cooper, was there, smoking his pipe; also, Mrs.Shelbarke, who lived across the street. Philip was there. "That is a'cute trick, I vow," said he. Everybody was on a broad grin.
"What in the world is going on, I should like to know!" said Miss Dobb,greatly wondering. "There must be something funny. Why, they arelooking at my house, as true as I am alive!"
Miss Dobb was not a woman to be kept in the dark about anything a greatwhile. She stepped to the front door, opened it, and with herpleasantest smile and softest tone of voice said: "Good morning,neighbors; you seem to be very much pleased at something. May I ask whatyou see to laugh at?"
"Te-he-he-he!" snickered a little boy, who pointed to the side of thehouse, and the by-standers followed his lead, with a loud chorus ofguffaws.
Miss Dobb looked upon the wall, and saw, in red letters, as if she hadgone into business, opened a store, and put out a sign,--"MISS DOBB,LIES, SCANDAL, GOSSIP, WHOLESALE AND RETAIL."
She threw up her hands in horror. Her eyes flashed; she gasped forbreath. There was a paint-bucket and brush on the door-step; on one sideof the bucket she saw the word Chrome.
"The villain! I'll make him smart for this," she said, running in,snatching her bonnet, and out again, making all haste towards SquireCapias's office, to have Mr. Chrome arrested.
The Squire heard her story. There was a merry twinkling of his eye, buthe kept his countenance till she was through.
"I do not think that Mr. Chrome did it; he is not such a fool as toleave his bucket and brush there as evidence against him; you had betterlet it rest awhile," said he.
Mr. Chrome laughed when he saw the sign. "I didn't do it; I was abed andasleep, as my wife will testify. Somebody stole my bucket and brush; butit is a good joke on Dobb, I'll be blamed if it isn't," said he.
Who did it? That was the question.
"I will give fifty dollars to know," said Miss Dobb, her lips quiveringwith anger.
Philip heard her and said, "Isn't there a fellow who sometimes helps Mr.Chrome paint wagons?"
"Yes, I didn't think of him. It is just like him. There he comes now;I'll make him confess it." Miss Dobb's eyes flashed, her lips trembled,she was so angry. She remembered that one of the pigs which Paulpainted, when he was a boy, was hers; she also remembered how he sentMr. Smith's old white horse on a tramp after a bundle of hay.
Paul was on his way to Mr. Chrome's shop, to begin work for the day. Hewondered at the crowd. He saw the sign, and laughed with the rest.
"You did that, sir," said Miss Dobb, coming up to him, reaching out herlong hand and clutching at him with her bony fingers, as if she wouldlike to tear him to pieces. "You did it, you villain! Now you needn'tdeny it; you painted my pig once, and now you have done this. You are amean, good-for-nothing scoundrel," she said, working herself into aterrible passion.
"I did not do it," said Paul, nettled at the charge, and growing red inthe face.
"You are a liar! you show your guilt in your countenance," said MissDobb.
Paul's face was on fire. Never till then had he been called a liar. Hewas about to tell her loudly, that she was a meddler, tattler, andhypocrite, but he remembered that he had read somewhere, that "he wholoses his temper loses his cause," and did not speak the words. Helooked her steadily in the face, and said calmly, "I did not do it," andwent on to his work.
Weeks went by. The singing-school was drawing to a close. Paul had maderapid progress. His voice was round, rich, full, and clear. He no longerappeared at school wearing his grandfather's coat, for he had worked forMr. Chrome, painting wagons, till he had earned enough to purchase a newsuit of clothes. Besides, it was discovered that he could survey land,and several of the farmers employed him to run the lines between theirfarms. Mr. Rhythm took especial pains to help him on in singing, andbefore winter was through he could master the crookedest anthem in thebook. Daphne Dare was the best alto, Hans Middlekauf the best bass, andAzalia the best treble. Sometimes Mr. Rhythm had the four sing aquartette, or Azalia and Paul sang a duet. At times, the school sang,while he listened. "I want you to learn to depend upon yourselves," saidhe. Then it was that Paul's voice was heard above all others, so clearand distinct, and each note so exact in time that they felt he was theirleader.
One evening Mr. Rhyt
hm called Paul into the floor, and gave him therattan with which he beat time, saying, "I want you to be leader in thistune; I resign the command to you, and you are to do just as if I werenot here." The blood rushed to Paul's face, his knees trembled; but hefelt that it was better to try and fail, than be a coward. He soundedthe key, but his voice was husky and trembling. Fanny Funk, who hadturned up her nose at Mr. Rhythm's proposition, giggled aloud, and therewas laughing around the room. It nerved him in an instant. He opened hislips to shout, Silence! then he thought that they would not respect hisauthority, and would only laugh louder, which would make him appearridiculous. He stood quietly and said, not in a husky voice, but calmly,pleasantly, and deliberately, "When the ladies have finished theirlaughter we will commence." The laughter ceased. He waited till the roomwas so still that they could hear the clock tick. "Now we will try it,"said he. They did not sing it right, and he made them go over it againand again, drilling them till they sang it so well that Mr. Rhythm andthe spectators clapped their hands.
"You will have a competent leader after I leave you," said Mr. Rhythm.Paul had gained this success by practice hour after hour, day after day,week after week, at home, till he was master of what he had undertaken.
The question came up in parish meeting, whether the school should jointhe choir? Mr. Quaver and the old members opposed it, but they werevoted down. Nothing was said about having a new chorister, for no onewished to hurt Mr. Quaver's feelings by appointing Paul in his place;but the school did not relish the idea of being led by Mr. Quaver,while, on the other hand, the old singers did not mean to beovershadowed by the young upstarts.
It was an eventful Sunday in New Hope when the singing-school joined thechoir. The church was crowded. Fathers and mothers who seldom attendedmeeting were present to see their children in the singers' seats. Thegirls were dressed in white, for it was a grand occasion. Mr. Quaver andthe old choir were early in their places. Mr. Quaver's red nose wasredder than ever, and he had a stern look. He took no notice of the newsingers, who stood in the background, not daring to take their seats,and not knowing what to do till Paul arrived.
"Where shall we sit, sir?" Paul asked, respectfully.
"Anywhere back there," said Mr. Quaver.
"We would like to have you assign us seats," said Paul.
"I have nothing to do about it; you may sit anywhere, and sing when youare a mind to, or hold your tongues," said Mr. Quaver, sharply.
"Very well; we will do so," said Paul, a little touched, telling theschool to occupy the back seats. He was their acknowledged leader. Hetook his place behind Mr. Quaver, with Hans, Azalia, and Daphne nearhim. Mr. Quaver did not look round, neither did Miss Gamut, nor any ofthe old choir. They felt that the new-comers were intruders, who had noright there.
The bell ceased its tolling, and Rev. Mr. Surplice ascended thepulpit-stairs. He was a venerable man. He had preached many years, andhis long, white hair, falling upon his shoulders, seemed to crown himwith a saintly glory. The people, old and young, honored, respected, andloved him; for he had grave counsel for the old, kind words for theyoung, and pleasant stories for the little ones. Everybody said that hewas ripening for heaven. He rejoiced when he looked up into the galleryand saw such a goodly array of youth, beauty, and loveliness. Then,bowing his head in prayer, and looking onward to the eternal years, heseemed to see them members of a heavenly choir, clothed in white, andsinging, "Alleluia! salvation and glory and honor and power unto theLord our God!"
After prayer, he read a hymn:--
"Now shall my head be lifted high Above my foes around; And songs of joy and victory Within thy temple sound."
There was a smile of satisfaction on Mr. Quaver's countenance whileselecting the tune, as if he had already won a victory. There was aclearing of throats; then Mr. Fiddleman gave the key on the bass-viol.As Mr. Quaver had told Paul that the school might sing when theypleased, or hold their tongues, he determined to act independently ofMr. Quaver.
"After one measure," whispered Paul. He knew they would watch his hand,and commence in exact time. The old choir was accustomed to sing withoutregard to time.
Mr. Quaver commenced louder than usual,--twisting, turning, drawling,and flattening the first word as if it was spelled n-e-a-w. Miss Gamutand Mr. Cleff and the others dropped in one by one. Not a sound as yetfrom the school. All stood eagerly watching Paul. He cast a quick glanceright and left. His hand moved,--down--left--right--up. They burst intothe tune, fifty voices together. It was like the broadside of afifty-gun frigate. The old choir was confounded. Miss Gamut stoppedshort. Captain Binnacle, who once was skipper of a schooner on theLakes, and who owned a pew in front of the pulpit, said afterwards, thatshe was thrown on her beam-ends as if struck by a nor'wester and all hermain-sail blown into ribbons in a jiffy. Mr. Quaver, though confused fora moment, recovered; Miss Gamut also righted herself. Though confounded,they were not yet defeated. Mr. Quaver stamped upon the floor, whichbrought Mr. Cleff to his senses. Mr. Quaver looked as if he would say,"Put down the upstarts!" Mr. Fiddleman played with all his might; MissGamut screamed at the top of her voice, while Mr. Cleff puffed out hisfat cheeks and became red in the face, doing his utmost to drown them.
The people looked and listened in amazement. Mr. Surplice stoodreverently in his place. Those who sat nearest the pulpit said thatthere was a smile on his countenance.
It was a strange fugue, but each held on to the end of the verse, theyoung folks getting out ahead of Mr. Quaver and his flock, and having abreathing spell before commencing the second stanza. So they wentthrough the hymn. Then Mr. Surplice read from the Bible: "Behold howgood and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity! Asthe dew of Hermon, and as the dew that descended upon the mountains ofZion; for there the Lord commanded his blessing forevermore."
Turning to the choir, he said, "My dear friends, I perceive that thereis a want of unity in your services, as singers of the sanctuary;therefore, that the peace and harmony of the place may not be broken, Ipropose that, when the next psalm is given, the old members of the choirsing the first stanza, and the new members the second, and so throughthe hymn. By thus doing there will be no disagreement."
Each one--old and young--resolved to do his best, for comparisons wouldbe made. It would be the struggle for victory.
"I will give them a tune which will break them down," Mr. Quaverwhispered to Miss Gamut, as he selected one with a tenor and trebleduet, which he and Miss Gamut had sung together a great many times.Louder and stronger sang Mr. Quaver. Miss Gamut cleared her throat, withthe determination to sing as she never sang before, and to show thepeople what a great difference there was between her voice and AzaliaAdams's. But the excitement of the moment set her heart in a flutterwhen she came to the duet, which ran up out of the scale. She aimed athigh G, but instead of striking it in a round full tone, as she intendedand expected, she only made a faint squeak on F, which sounded so funnythat the people down stairs smiled in spite of their efforts to keepsober. Her breath was gone. She sank upon her seat, covered her facewith her hands, mortified and ashamed. Poor Miss Gamut! But there was asweet girl behind her who pitied her very much, and who felt likecrying, so quick was her sympathy for all in trouble and sorrow.
Mr. Quaver was provoked. Never was his nose so red and fiery. Determinednot to be broken down, he carried the verse through, ending with a roar,as if to say, "I am not defeated."
The young folks now had their turn. There was a measure of time, theexact movement, the clear chord, swelling into full chorus, thenbecoming fainter, till it seemed like the murmuring of voices far away.How charming the duet! Where Mr. Quaver blared like a trumpet, Paul sangin clear, melodious notes; and where Miss Gamut broke down, Azaliaglided so smoothly and sweetly that every heart was thrilled. Then, whenall joined in the closing strain, the music rolled in majesty along theroof, encircled the pulpit, went down the winding stairs, swept alongthe aisles, entered the pews, and delighted
the congregation. Miss Gamutstill continued to sit with her hands over her face. Mr. Quaver nudgedher to try another verse, but she shook her head. Paul waited for Mr.Quaver, who was very red in the face, and who felt that it was of no useto try again without Miss Gamut. He waved his hand to Paul as a signalto go on. The victory was won. Through the sermon Mr. Quaver thought thematter over. He felt very uncomfortable, but at noon he shook hands withPaul, and said, "I resign my place to you. I have been chorister forthirty years, and have had my day." He made the best of his defeat, andin the afternoon, with all the old singers, sat down stairs.
Judge Adams bowed to Paul very cordially at the close of the service.Colonel Dare shook hands with him, and Rev. Mr. Surplice, with apleasant smile, said, "May the Lord be with you." It was spoken sokindly and heartily, and was so like a benediction, that the tears cameto Paul's eyes; for he felt that he was unworthy of such kindness.
There was one person in the congregation who looked savagely athim,--Miss Dobb. "It is a shame," she said, when the people came out ofchurch, speaking loud enough to be heard by all, "that such a youngupstart and hypocrite should be allowed to worm himself into Mr.Quaver's seat." She hated Paul, and determined to put him down ifpossible.
Paul went home from church pleased that the school had done so well, andgrateful for all the kind words he heard; but as he retired for thenight, and thought over what had taken place,--when he realized that hewas the leader of the choir, and that singing was a part of divineworship,--when he considered that he had fifty young folks todirect--and that it would require a steady hand to keep them straight,he felt very sober. As these thoughts, one by one, came crowding uponhim, he felt that he could not bear so great a responsibility. Then hereflected that life is made up of responsibilities, and that it was hisduty to meet them manfully. If he cringed before, or shrank from them,and gave them the go-by, he would be a coward, and never wouldaccomplish anything. No one would respect him, and he would not evenhave any respect for himself. "I won't back out!" he said, resolving todo the best he could.
Very pleasant were the days. Spring had come with its sunshine andflowers. The birds were in their old haunts,--the larks in the meadows,the partridges in the woods, the quails in the fields. Paul was as happyas they, singing from morning till night the tunes he had learned; andwhen his day's work was over, he was never too wearied to call uponDaphne with Azalia, and sing till the last glimmer of daylight fadedfrom the west,--Azalia playing the piano, and their voices mingling inperfect harmony. How pleasant the still hours with Azalia beneath theold elms, which spread out their arms above them, as if to pronounce abenediction,--the moonlight smiling around them,--the dews perfuming theair with the sweet odors of roses and apple-blooms,--the cricketchirping his love-song to his mate,--the river forever flowing, andsweetly chanting its endless melody!
Sometimes they lingered by the way, and laughed to hear the grand chorusof bull-frogs croaking among the rushes of the river, and the echoes oftheir own voices dying away in the distant forest. And then, standing inthe gravelled walk before the door of Azalia's home, where the flowersbloomed around them, they looked up to the stars, shining so far away,and talked of choirs of angels, and of those who had gone from earth toheaven, and were singing the song of the Redeemed. How bright the days!how blissful the nights!
Winning His Way Page 4