This special organ is her own, which she has lent the church. The one which belongs to the church was originally a fine organ and was given to this little chapel some thirty years ago by a rich young man in New York, who had it for his own use and who was dying and expressed the wish that it should go to some place where it would do good. Our little church was without one and the rector happening to be in New York at the time, it was given to him. From that day to this it has been in use constantly, and without repair.
Church mice are proverbially active and they showed great fondness for the material of the bellows, so that the "instrument" was in a sad and wheezing condition, making respectable sounds difficult. I, being an optimist of the first water and having received constant proof of my having the right view of life, said boldly two years ago, just before the storm which laid us all low, that I would undertake to pack the organ and send it away to be repaired. A tuner who came to tune my beloved piano that spring said that he would repair the organ for $40 if we sent to it him in Carrolton.
I had had experience of the great liberality of the makers of my piano in the matter of exchange. During a period of forty years more or less I have had four pianos. Each time that by some good fortune I felt I might give myself the blessing of a new piano I wrote to the makers and told them I was sending on the old piano and wished a new one. They always allowed me a handsome price for the old piano. Reasoning from this experience that all great makers would act in the same way, I wrote to Boston to say I was sending the organ for repair or exchange, as seemed best to them, and asking their best terms, stating that by this parish there had been bought five melodeons of their make, including two baby organs.
Immediately came a letter to say the repairs would cost $80 and when they were made the organ would be worth $250. I wrote back in despair to say we could not possibly raise $80 for repairs, but would accept any melodeon they would send in exchange for our organ, which by their estimate was now worth $170. The answer came promptly—they could not offer any exchange; the organ was in their way; please answer at once.
So here am I, having sent off the property of the church on my own responsibility, and it will probably lapse by dint of possession before we can possibly raise $80 for the repairs. At night when I am very tired, the organ has a way of rising up before me in accusation and I feel it is an "instrument" worthy of the Inquisition.
It has been two years now an unwelcome guest in its childhood's Boston home. Meantime we are using Miss Penelope's organ, which is not fair, for she can never practise the hymns at home, having no instrument.
I began all this to tell of Miss Penelope's temptation. Last Sunday afternoon the unwonted sight of an automobile struck the village. Great excitement among all those who were so fortunate as to be strolling along the dusty road, among whom was Miss Penelope.
The occupants proved to be friends of hers and when they got out to make a visit in the village they asked her and two ladies with her to get in the machine and take a little turn. Now, Miss Penelope had never been in an auto and she accepted at once. They went two or three blissful miles and then came the awakening. Every face they met was set in solemn wonder that she, Miss Penelope, a pillar of the church (if the church is ever allowed confessedly to rest on feminine foundation), should ride in an auto on Sunday.
Words failed, but looks were all powerful. That night she said to me:—
"Patience, I am so ashamed of myself; I just yielded to temptation, you may say, without a struggle. It was so hot and dusty in the roads and the thought of flying through the air was so delightful that I never thought of it being Sunday and accepted the invitation at once; and it was the most heavenly sensation! Mr. A. said the road was clear and he could exceed the speed limit without danger, and it really was like a trip to Europe, so elevating and delightful; but as soon as I stepped down from the car I realized how wicked I had been."