Seth Miller was one of the folk who adored Mr. Langley and he was aware of the disappointed look upon his face as he left the house that Sunday afternoon. He had unbounded confidence in his daughter; if she caused the disappointment, it was because she couldn’t help it. But he felt as if he should like to do something particularly nice for the minister to make up for it.
As he pondered upon it, it came to him that he might be able to do some bit of carpentry at the church as a surprise to Mr. Langley. But he couldn’t think of anything that was necessary, and to discover any possibility in the way of ornamentation he would have to go over to the church. He had gone over early that morning to see to the fire, had attended service, waiting until everyone was out after Sunday school to lock the building, and he would have to go over early to unlock the building and see that all was right for evening service. He might have postponed this matter until that time, but it seemed to make it of more consequence if he made a special journey, so he decided to go at once.
He was tired enough, however, not to wish to go upstairs for his keys. He had an extra key to the little side door leading to the vestry which he kept in the kitchen so that Anna could get it when he was away. She had sung in the choir before the baby’s arrival and had let the others in and out for rehearsals. But when he looked, the key was not in its place.
Mrs. Miller and the boys had gone home with Miss Penny and Anna was in her room, so he fetched his bunch of keys and went on, wondering that Anna, who was exceedingly careful of such things, should have failed to return the key to the nail where it belonged. As he approached the church from the rear he was suddenly startled by a sound which was, however, not startling in itself—a low, sweet strain of music which seemed to come from the church and to be the voice of the well-known organ.
Seth Miller’s heart beat violently. The organist came from Wenham and did not play for evening service. Moreover, she played at Wenham in the afternoon—she was in the church there at this very moment. No one else but Mr. Langley had a key and he did not play the big organ. And—how early the sun set. It was almost dark now. Miller did not believe in ghosts, but—it would be dark inside.
The music ceased. As it died away, it came to him that Anna might be in the church. Perhaps the baby had fallen asleep and she had run down for a little change. He didn’t know that she could play the pipe organ, but she was full of music like her mother. Moreover, he wasn’t sure as the music he had heard had been correct music. He had something of an ear himself, but the strain was low and he had been excited, and for all he knew, it might have been the chromatic scale. Of course it was Anna, and he hurried round to the door of which she had the key.
But it was fast. He had told Anna not to lock the door behind her at choir rehearsal, but perhaps she felt that this was different. He unlocked it and went in making a racket and calling her name lest she be frightened.
She was not to be found, however. The audience room looked exactly as it had when he had left it early in the afternoon except that now twilight had fallen upon it. He went to the organ loft, but saw no traces of anyone having been there. And he began to wonder if he had been mistaken. Perhaps he hadn’t heard anything. But he knew he had. Perhaps it had come from elsewhere? It had sounded like the organ, but it was rather low and soft for that great organ. Still, where could it have come from? Shaking his head, Seth Miller returned home, his errand forgotten.
That evening as he was about to start for the church, he asked Anna what she had done with the key to the vestry door.
“It’s there on the nail, Pa,” she said, pointing to the place where it should have been—and where it was!