The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 20, 1903, Page 23

OU all know how they look in the pictures; they have appealing viclet eyes and drooping mouths and oval faces. They tip their heads back and to the side and there is usually a broad beam of across r little official But Edgar was not that kind. So y ai e differ, in fact, that even aster was deceived and dis- difficulty. When the fronted them in the par- mob of suspicious lit %, shoving, growling, snickering an. herwise fulfilling their natures, he : ed Tim Mullaly, w possessed an amazing degree let eves and the drooping mouth and the oval Yace, as his first soprano. Tim refused to sing the scale sthers scorn his inedly patient, “come-0 as the hi aim exerc! vt iber them up a easiness. we sing?” he called the plano stool, fai ragtime” rhythm from one of the the inviting melody hey were shou with E ing rush, 1 ve and led them twirled around on the an rose all Which s singing excitedly. ed ; grinned ; one could Don't be silly— most sepulchral sort. s shoulde a sweet little trebl his ears were pricked for etter, and presently It ythm was too enticing: ease, oh, please, oh, don't you 1 fall— , George, he's a ht 1 I love you best of T s high C!” be my man, ‘r I'll have no man st into a joyous tenor. in the old town to-n still singing, dreamy gaze choirmaster mewhat reed t1 and of he cried, pouncing on . giggled feebly. sir,” he sald. sing this scale and I'll give you envious sigh quavered through the rew back his head and opened ping mouth. e was & flash of blue gingham, of rage, & sound as of ffty boy suddenly seated 's yer fi’ cents?” a new voice choirmaster perceived with ent that the owner of the freckled boy with an exceed- etrousse nose, was sitting on prostrate Tim. What's the meaning of this? Get said sternly. “What's your e I can't have any of this sort hing in my choir!” freckled boy did not rise. In he seated himself more comfort- ly on Master Mullaly and demand- fact Where's yer ' cents?” The choirmaster stepped forward 2nd seized the offender’s collar. As his fingers tightened the captive burst into the chorus of the moment before _it was the blackbird's voice! 8o ob- stinate was the choirmaster’s first im- pression that he looked instinctively at the fallen Tim to catch the notes, but Tim was struggling meekly but firmly for breath, and this free trill- ing came from above him. The choir- master relaxed his hold. “It was you ail the time!” he said in & stupor of surprise. “Yep,” replied the singer, “it was me. Did yer think was him with a siight jounce to indicate his vic tim “Get up, won't you, and sME me something els the choirmaster urged. The boy rose promptly. “What'll I sing?” he returned amic- ebly. There had been a different tone in the choirmaster’s voice. Happy Home! Happy Home!"” the demanded. e choirmaster looked relleved. He had no narrow prejudices, but he real- ized that a hymn Illke “My Happy Home” comes with good effect from rish 1 windows. ’here's your mouth organ?” de- r ed the freckled one of a larger boy in the crowd. The latter prompt- ly produced the instrument in ques- tion, cuddled it in both hands a2 mo- ment after the fashion of the virtuoso and drew forth the jerky and complex er th series of strains peculiar to it. It was 1 tune vaguely choirmaster. Sudden- ice burst into this som- ber background: I'd leave v y yome for you, 00-00-00-00! The choirmaster sighed ecstatically. A voice so tender, =0 soft, so rich In pealing inflec he had never rd. The repe vowels cooed; allured. e nices’ 1 ever knoo, Oo-00- at's your ?" asked the nam ectfully t to be Egg Nogg, r Ogden under n, and its i three weekly services cents a in rts pro hat it was pe attempt to teach d mu Wh Tim Mulialy stupidest alto in the United the choirmaster assured him mble through what was con- known as a duet at sight, that was the work of many Edgar was still learning his Onge learned, however, ot them, and Mr. Fellows ed with pride as the sllver stream voice flowed higher, higher, crgan, beyvond the choir at in the church and n Mullaly. As his ap- on and violet eyes were chable he had all the effects of oloist and recelved most of the from that vast majority. mere anprehension was merci- unsuspected by Edgar, otherwise to be feared that the services of fan would have been required in the Mullal household. Not that Edgar had any professional pride in | He possessed, according to , many more valuable and corative qualities: His power of song entirely hereditary and came to from his father. Mrs. Ogden was not musical herself and devoted most of her energies to fine laundry work, a les: emotional but more lucrative occupation. Edgar's T jonal duties interested. her iefly by reason of the weekly salary, ne grown to 50 o of which one- tenth was ellowed him for his private purpose, the remainder being appiied to t v 4 ous necessities of the sehold, His consequent position as we -earner was firmly established, and his mother, though she cherished natural contempt for the mental cal- young man who considered ce worth 50 cents a week, t that so remunerative an or- eived all the consideration it de- an fr. Ogden’s undisguised horor, suits of under flannels were purchased at the beginning of the win- ter k m rubbers were artist’s reluctant feets on ry elushy day. The most uncon- b igh s rewarded with black rice purchased from the general sehold fund, and when Edgar had > measles “the Prince of Wales,” to & Mr. Ogde: irritated phrase, ght have been glad to taste the utton broth and cocoa that fattened at impident or was her s em limited to this indulgence, as the occasion of one choirmaster’s visit proved. Fear- 1 lest the purpose of his call should me evident too abruptly, he began ne of his customary eulogies of his soprano’s voice. She received his enthusiasm coldly, indicated forcibiy her own lack of musical ability, and boasted, with a pride inexplicable to one who has not been accustomed to consider this gift synonymous with penitentiary qualifications, that she could not carry a tune. On his men- tioning somewhat diffidently that Ed- gar's fines for tardiness, absence, etc., must in the nature of things make ap- precigple inroads upon his salary the interview assumed a different aspect. ‘Wiping her hands on her apron, Mrs. Ogden assured the choirmaster that if Edgar wasn't earning his wages she'd attend to that part of it all right. So intent was her expression that he felt obliged to put in a plea for gentle- ness, on the ground that such a deli- cate mechanism as the human throat could not be too carefully treated. Mrs, Ogden assured him that she was not in the habit of applying her dis- ciplinary measures to the throat, and the audience was at an end. The day happened to be Saturday, and at the evening rehearsal it seemed to the choirmeaster that things had never gone so smoothly. After all, he thought, it needed a mother to reason with the boys—he had made several calls of the same nature that week—a mother knew best how to influence them. And he was abundantly justified in his conclusions. On Sunday afternoon Edgar marched into the chusgch, impassive and unin- teresting to the outward vision, with THE SAN I Tim beside him, rapt and effective. Once through with the Psalter, which he loathed because he was not always certaln of his pointing and could not endure Tim’s look of horror at his oc- casional slips, Edgar, having hunched his shoulders at just the angle to pre- vent the tenor behind him from look- ing across into the transept, devoted himself to a study of the rose window over the transept. The decoration of this window was a standing subject of quarrel between him and his first alto, Howard Potter. Edgar had advanced the somewhat untenable proposition that the various figures in the stained glass windows represented the successive rectors and cholrmasters of St. Mark's. Howard had objected that the dedications un- der the windows referred to persons who never held office of any kind in the church. Edgar had then fallen back on the theory that the figures were portraits | FLOVVED IN THF WAITING HUSH FVERY MWORD SOY T AND PURF. T0 THF OF THE CHURCH END of the persons whom the windows commemorated. Howard triumphantly queried why, then, should the legend, “Sacred to the memory of Walter, be- loved husband of Mary Bird Ferris,” appear under a tall woman in dark green glass with a most feminine amount of hair and a long red sash? Edgar was staggered, but suddenly re- called his father’s glowing account of a costume ball given by the Knights of Pythias, in which many of the knights appeared in women’s clothes, one in particular, the proprietor of a fish market, having rented a long and flow-. ing wig the better to decelve his fellow knights and their -delighted guests. This had impressed Edgar as intensely humorous; he greatly enjoyed pictur- ing the scene to his imagination, and he strengthened his wavering infalli- bility by declaring that the beloved husband of Mary Bird Ferris was be- yond doubt a Pythian in costume. This had silenced Howard for a week, FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. but one afternoon at evensong, just be- fore the electric bell sounded in the Tobing room to summon them to the hall, he had rapidly inquired in a hiss- ing whisper ‘“Who that white puppy carryin’ the flag In the round window on the side, where the bird was, was a «pleture of?” The bird was the lectern eagle, and neither of the antagonists had ever seen a lamb. Hdgar had recognized the fact that it was a poorly drawn puppy, and he did not belleve that it could possibly have balanced on one crooked- up knée and at that perilous angle any such banner as the artist had given it. It was also crushingly apparent to him that no Knight of Pythias, with all the assistance in the world, could trans- form hi:lself into such a woolly, curly, four-le®ged object as that. Then why should the brass plate be- neath it declare that this rose window ‘was placed in “loving memory of Alice Helen Worden, who departed this life \ / [ - June nineteenth, elghteen hundred 1}6 minety?” That was no name for a PUDPPY, to begin with. The whole affair frritated Edgar exceedingly. He saw no explanation whatever. He perceived that he should have to fight the first alto. This was not only a great respon- sibility in itself, but the necessity of evading the parental eye added to the nervous strain and the consclousness that on this particular Sunday after- noon Mr. Ogden occupied one of the rear pews, with the idea of seeing how he behaved during service and subse- quently accompanying him home, so welghed upon the spirits of the first soprano that Willlam Walters accom- plished the cholr steps in the recession- al without a stumble. The rector noticed with pleasure the seedy-looking man in the back of the church; he was just then 'smarting a little under the accusation of “aristo- cratic tendencies;” a body of conser- vatives had never approved of the boy choir. He hoped to get the man Into the Brotherhood of St. Andrew if he were allled to no other organization. Mr. Ogden, as we know, was on busi- ness of his own—business that kept him glaring fixedly in the rector’s direction, /which encouraged that good man still further. It is to be doubted if the bro- therhood would have appealed to him, however. Not that he would have been hindered by any narrow sectarian ten- dencles. Mrs. Ogden, who did up the shirt walsts of the Presbyterian min- ister’s daughter, was by her presented regularly with a missionary bank in the form of a papler mache cottage, with a chimney imitating red brick; and Edgar, employing a Napéleonic strategy, triumphantly attended the Methodist Christmas festivals and the Baptist Sunday school picnics, the lat- ter soclety offexing a merry-go-round on a larger scale, the former providing the infant falthful with more practi- cable presents and larger candy bags. Mr. Ogden felt, with a certain justice, that his church conmections did him credit on the whole, and excused him- self trom any undue energy in that di- rection. He watched his son keenly, but Ed- gar's ecclesiastical demeanor was with- out a flaw. Momsover, his plans wers gradually maturing. He sang amen at proper intervals and managed to get between the organist and the tenor, who depended on Mr. Fellows to mark the time for him with his left hand, and in consequence of being unable to gee him, bungled his offertory solo; but his thoughts were otherwhere. He had decided to slip out of the south transept door, thus eluding parental pursuit, and fight Howard Potter In his own back yard before he slept. He would prac- tice upon his victim a recent scientifio acquisition proudly styled by him “the uppercut,” which he had learned from an acquaintance at the cost of 10 cents and three sugar cookies. At this point the anthem prelude drew him to his feet. He had saved his voice, according to directions, for his solo, and in the walting hush every word flowed, soft and pure, to the end of the church. “Mercy and truth, mercy and truth, mercy— Ah, that exquisite soft swoop down- ward! The organ rippled on contented- ly a continuation of Edgar’'s fiutelike tones—"and truth are me-et together!” There was all the richness of a woman's voice, all the passionless clearness of a boy’s and all the morn- ‘ing innocence of a child’s. It occurred to him suddenly that the north transept would be safer—it was on the side furtherst from home. “Righteousness and peace, righteous- ness and peace have kissed each other!” He wondered it Howard had learned the uppercut since their encounter. Tim's face was as the face of an angel; a long slanting ray from the rose-window fell across his curls. “Have kissed each other,” Edgar sighed softly. “Have kissed each other” —the caressing tones melted into the organ’s, whispered once more, ‘“each other,” and dled lingeringly. A long breath, an audible “Ah-h-h!" drifted through the church. The choirmaster kicked his feet together under the organ for joy. He little knew that at that very moment the future of his vested choir was lwlnxln“huy in the balance. But such was the fact. Fate, which Hnks together events seemingly iso- lated, smoothed Edgar’s way to his flight, but allowed him to be beaten. If this had not happened, his wrath would not have vented itself in hector- fng a bad-tempered bass at the ‘Wednesday rehearsal, by scampering in front of him:and mimicking with wonderful accuracy his gruff, staccato voice. “He taketh up the isles—as a ver-ry— little thing!” mocked Edgar. “Shut up!” growled the bass. “A ver-ry lit-tle thing!” Edgar con- tinued, malignantly, slipping across his vietim’s path. “Oh, all right, young feller,” called the bass, enraged at the grins and ap- plause of the other menm, “all right! Just you walt till Sunday, that's all!” If Edgar had not teased him so he would not have added: “I know what'll happen, then, if you don’t.” “What?" Edgar inquired derisively, catching up with him. “You're going to be bounced, that's what,” said the bass, irritably. “Aw, come off! I ain't, eithe: “Well, you ought to be, the whole pack of you,” the bass continued, de- cidedly, “bag and baggage! And good riddance, too. No choirboy camping out this summer!” = Edgar dropped behind and mused. “Who told yer?” he called. “Ask Fellows—and if he don't lick you, I will!” retorted the bass, making a quick grab, which Edgar -easily evaded. He summoned his mates immediate- ly; the question was laid before them. Had they heard that they were to be bounced? Did they belleve that the two weeks’ camping out, the object of all their endurance and loyalty, the prize of their high call was to be dis- continued? Tim was deputed to in- quire on Saturday afternoon. He re- turned disconsolate; they shoved each other significantly. “What'd he say? What'd he say?” “He says mos’ prob’ly not. Says it costs too much. Says maybe a plc- nic™ w! old chump! Goin’ to bounce us, too? “] dunno. I guess so. I didn’t ask him that. I just says to him, “Aw, say, Mr. Fellows, arn’t us boys goin’' camp- in’? An’ he says, ‘1 guess not this year, Tim, mog’ prob’ly. Maybe a plenie™ “Well, I bet'he don't bounce me! I betcher that; 1 betcher now!" Edgar struited before them. They re- garded him with interest. “Whatcher yer goin' to do? asked respectfully. “What'll I do? T'Il—I'll bounce my- self!” he called over his shoulder as he strode home. His moody. alr during supper con- vinced Mr. Ogden that something was up. Nver since he had discovered Ed- gar’s demand for an additiopal 10 cents a Sunday, on the ground that his moth- er thought him worth more, and his later daring strike for § cents more sal- ary, which the choirmaster innocently considered abundantly justified and paid out of his own pocket, Mr. Ogden, who, having heard rumors of wild dis- sipations in the peanut and root beer line, had pounced upon his son return- ing plethoric from pay day and annexed the extra 15 cents, was convinced of the necessity of surveillance for this wily wage earner and formed the habit of escorting him regularly on pay nights, alone at first, later escorted by Mrs. Ogden, who accompanied the family group as a self-constituted and final auditor. It frequently has been remarked that a great grief may bind together once disunited members of a family; it is extremely improbable that any affliction whatever could have produced among the Ogdens such a gratifying esprit de corps as resulted from their unfeigned interest in pay day. But when Mr. Og- den had shadowed his son to no more secluded and .dangerous spot than the churchyard and saw him in earnest conelave with his attentive mates, he went, relieved, about his business, re- assured by the words “campin’ out” and “Sunday afternoon” that he caught from behind a convenient tombstone. He was utterly unconscious that the scene he had left was far more men- acing to, his household than even the most didfiguring fight of his warlike son’s varied repertoire. But so it was. Haranguing, promising, taunting, threatening, Edgar led them, finally subdued, into one of the most satisfac- tory rehearsals of the year. They waited till 10:45 o’clock ‘en Sunday, and finally the men marched in alone, somewhat conscious and ill at ease, followed by a red-faced, de- termined rector and a puzzled visiting clergyman. They sang “O Happy Band of Pllgrims,” but it was re- Fuhd by. the wondering congrega- they on that they did not look happy Ahemselves. There was no music but the hymns, which, as they had been altered to well-known numbers, were chanted lustily by the inhabitants of the pews, thus winning the sincere ad- miration of the visiting clergyman. “Really, such well-trained congre- gational singing s quite rare,” he re- marked afterward to the rector, and was somewhat surprised at the short answer: “It shall certainly never oc- cur again.”, It had gone hard with the vested cholr but for Mrs. Ogden. Mr. B lows pleaded in vain; in vain the Ladles’ Auxiliary passed resolutions; the rector was firm. It was only when Mrs. Ogden swept in upon him In his study, a chastened, still apprehensive boy under one arm, followed by half a dozen women similarly equipped, and made a speech that will adorn the: parish annals for many a year, that he yielded, respectfully con- vinced. Edgar had met his Waterloo, and lived, so to speak, under a consequent military surveillance, with much of his prestige gone, his pay docked for a month, and the certainty of ap- proaching warm weather, when it would be impossible to take cold, and nothing but a summons to the choir invisjble could excuse him from re- hearsals here, to render the future all too clear to him. In the words of the processional: His tongue could never tire Of singing with the cholr. To-day, if you should attend even- song at St. Mark's, you will beyond a doubt be delighted with a silver volce that appears to proceed from a violet-eyed boy with a sweet expres- sion. “It is a good thing to give thanks unto the Lord!” the voice declares mdlodiously, but it is doubtful if its owner is in'a thankful frame of mind. He would in all probability prefer to be with his brother Samuel, who is at present touring the West triumphant- ly with a Methodist revivalist, ren- dering “Where is My Wandering Boy To-Night” to weeping congratulations for $10 a week and his traveling ex-¢ penses. And even this success leaves Squealer dissatisfled; he would far rather be in his father's position—- first tenor in the Denman Thompsen “Old Homestead” quartet—and sing “The Palms” behind the scenes when the stereopticon vision of the repent- ant prodigal thrills the audience. It would seem that your artistic temperament is doomed to discontent. Whereas Mrs. Ogden. who cannot carry a tune, is perfectly satisfled with fine laundry work.