When John Campbell returned, he found Mary still in the parlor. She was
playing some noisy, mechanical "variation," whose rapid execution was a
physical vent for her chagrin and disappointment. She rose with alacrity,
rang for hot water, brewed his toddy, and affected the greatest interest
in the kirk meeting. Indeed she was interested in it; for the gathering
had been to consider whether John Campbell's offer of an organ, and her
own offer of her services as organist, could be accepted by the church.
"It was hopeless from the first," said Campbell with a queer smile; "every
shepherd in Bute was there to protest. You would have thought I had
proposed a Popish Mass Book, or at least an Episcopal Litany. There will
be no 'music boxes' in Bute kirks this generation, Mary. And, would you
believe it, the minister was dead against it?"
"I thought he favored an organ in the choir?"
"I was always uncertain about him. I never could interest him in the
subject. He would listen, and shake his head, or say, 'just so, sir,' or
refer to a session in which all could say the word in their heart; and so
on. To-night, after an opening prayer, in which he took the liberty to
remind the Lord of all the spiritual dangers connected with praising Him
with instruments of our own handiwork, he stood up and said, 'I'm not in
favor of any music with the Psalms of David, they are far better without
it. And if I were willing for the organ box, we are a poor kirk, and could
not afford to rob our stipendary and mission funds to pay a man player on
instruments; and as for women interfering with the ordinances in any way,
you all know what St. Paul says on that subject.' And, of course, when the
minister talks with the people's prejudices, he is omnipotent."
"Was it put to the vote?"
"Yes. Two of the congregation, Burns of Blantree, and myself, stood up
when the organ was proposed; the rest sat grim and dour. Nothing less than
an earthquake could have made them stir. When those opposed to an organ
were requested to rise, they stood up solid as a phalanx, and firm as a
stone wall. I wish Allan had gone with me. Where is the lad?"
"He bade me 'good-by' some time since. I dare say he has several things to
do in his rooms. A man cannot go away for two years and leave his
treasures to moths, and dust, and unchecked decay. Uncle, how soon can we
begin to build at Drumloch? This organ business has made me lose sympathy
with the Meriton people:--and I want something to do, Uncle John,
something to think about, and look after."