The Channings. Henry Wood

the proctor, as Arthur entered, “and who has been at the office this afternoon?”

      “No one in particular, sir. Oh yes, there was, though—I forgot. The dean looked in, and wanted to see you.”

      “What did he want?”

      “He did not say, sir. He told Jenkins it would do another time.” Arthur left his father and Mr. Galloway together. He did not broach the subject that was uppermost in his heart. Gifted with rare delicacy of feeling, he would not speak to Mr. Galloway until he could see him alone. To prefer the request in his father’s presence might have caused Mr. Galloway more trouble in refusing it.

      “I can’t think what has happened to Arthur this evening!” exclaimed one of them. “His spirits are up to fever heat. Tell us what it is, Arthur?”

      Arthur laughed. “I hope they will not be lowered to freezing point within the next hour; that’s all.”

      When he heard Mr. Galloway leaving, he hastened after him, and overtook him in the Boundaries.

      “I wanted to say a few words to you, sir, if you please?”

      “Say on,” said Mr. Galloway. “Why did you not say them indoors?”

      “I scarcely know how I shall say them now, sir; for it is a very great favour that I have to ask you, and you may be angry, perhaps, at my thinking you might grant it.”

      “You want a holiday, I suppose?”

      “Oh no, sir; nothing of that sort. I want—”

      “Well?” cried Mr. Galloway, surprised at his hesitation; but now that the moment of preferring the request had come, Arthur shrank from doing it.

      “Could you allow me, sir—would it make very much difference—to allow me—to come to the office an hour earlier, and remain in it an hour later?” stammered Arthur.

      “What for?” exclaimed Mr. Galloway, with marked surprise.

      “I have had an offer made me, sir, to take the cathedral organ at week-day service. I should very much like to accept it, if it could be managed.”

      “Why, where’s Jupp?” uttered Mr. Galloway.

      “Jupp has resigned. He is ill, and is going out for his health. I’ll tell you how it all happened,” went on Arthur, losing diffidence now that he was fairly launched upon his subject. “Of course, this failure of the suit makes a great difference to our prospects at home; it renders it incumbent upon us to do what we can to help—”

      “Why does it?” interrupted Mr. Galloway. “It may make a difference to your future ease, but it makes none to your present means.”

      “There is money wanted in many ways, sir; a favourable termination to the suit was counted upon so certainly. For one thing, it is necessary that my father should try the German baths.”

      “Of course, he must try them,” cried Mr. Galloway.

      “But it will cost money, sir,” deprecated Arthur. “Altogether, we have determined to do what we can. Constance has set us the example, by engaging herself as daily governess at Lady Augusta’s. She goes on Monday.”

      “Very commendable of her,” observed the proctor, who loved a gossip like any old woman. “I hope she’ll not let those two unruly girls worry her to death.”

      “And I was casting about in my mind, this morning, what I could do to help, when I met the organist,” proceeded Arthur. “He chanced to say that he could find no one to take the music copying. Well, sir, I thought it over, and at one o’clock I went to ask him to give it to me. I found him at the organ, in a state of vexation. Jupp had resigned his post, and Mr. Williams had no one to replace him. The long and the short of it is, sir, that he offered it to me.”

      “And did you accept it?” crossly responded Mr. Galloway.

      “Of course I could not do that, sir, until I had spoken to you. If it were possible that I could make up the two hours to you, I should be very glad to take it.”

      “And do it for nothing, I suppose?”

      “Oh no. He would give me fifty pounds a year. And there would be the copying besides.”

      “That’s a great deal!” cried Mr. Galloway. “It appears to me to be good pay,” replied Arthur. “But he would lose a great deal more than that, if he had to attend the cathedral himself. He said it would ruin his teaching.”

      “Ah! self-interest—two for himself and one for you!” ejaculated the proctor. “What does Mr. Channing say?”

      “I have said nothing at home. It was of no use telling them, until I had spoken to you. Now that my prospects are gone—”

      “What prospects?” interrupted Mr. Galloway.

      “My articles to you, sir. Of course there’s no chance of that now.”

      Mr. Galloway grunted. “The ruin that Chancery suits work! Mark you, Arthur Channing, this is such a thing as was never asked a proctor before—leave of absence for two hours in the best part of the day! If I grant it, it will be out of the great friendship I bear your father.”

      “Oh, sir! I shall never forget the obligation.”

      “Take care you don’t. You must come and work for two hours before breakfast in a morning.”

      “Willingly—readily!” exclaimed Arthur Channing, his face glowing. “Then may I really tell Mr. Williams that I can accept it?”

      “If I don’t say yes, I suppose you’d magnify me into a sullen old bear, as bad as Ketch, the porter. You may accept it. Stop!” thundered Mr. Galloway, coming to a dead standstill.

      Arthur was startled. “What now, sir?”

      “Are you to be instructor to those random animals, the choristers?”

      “Oh no: I shall have nothing to do with that.”

      “Very good. If you had taken to them, I should have recommended you to guard against such a specimen of singing as was displayed the other day before the judges.”

      Arthur laughed; spoke a word of heartfelt thanks; and took his way off-hand to the residence of the organist as light as any bird.

      “I have obtained leave, Mr. Williams; I may take your offer!” he exclaimed with scant ceremony, when he found himself in that gentleman’s presence, who was at tea with his wife. “Mr. Galloway has authorized me to accept it. How do you do, Mrs. Williams?”

      “That’s a great weight off my mind, then!” cried the organist. “I set that dolt of an apprentice of mine to play the folks out of college, this afternoon, when service was over, and—of all performances! Six mistakes he made in three bars, and broke down at last. I could have boxed his ears. The dean was standing below when I went down. ‘Who was that playing, Mr. Williams?’ he demanded. So, I told him about Jupp’s ill-behaviour in leaving me, and that I had offered the place to you. ‘But is Channing quite competent?’ cried he—for you know what a fine ear for music the dean has:—‘besides,’ he added, ‘is he not at Galloway’s?’ I said we hoped Mr. Galloway would spare you, and that I would answer for your competency. So, mind, Channing, you must put on the steam, and not disgrace my guarantee. I don’t mean the steam of noise, or that you should go through the service with all the stops out.”

      Arthur laughed; and, declining the invitation to remain and take tea, he went out. He was anxious to declare the news at home. A few steps on his road, he overtook Hamish.

      “Where do you spring from?” exclaimed Hamish, passing his arm within Arthur’s.

      “From concluding an agreement that will bring me in fifty pounds a year,” said Arthur.

      “Gammon, Master Arthur!”

      “It is not gammon, Hamish. It is sober truth.”

      Hamish turned and looked at him, aroused by something in the tone. “And what are you to do for it?”

      “Just