However, to-night I pressed in after him, and he did not rebuke me. I knew a church was no place for dogs, but I was uneasy about my dear master, and did not want to leave him alone.
As he pushed open the swing door, such a blast of music met us. The whole thing was going now—organ and men’s voices, and it was magnificent.
Dogs like music as well as human beings do. Nothing entertains me more when I am tired than to have some lady sing and play the piano, and even a victrola is better than dead quiet.
Well, my master walked heavily in through the little door, and skirting the small chapels, went away down to the end of the church and took one of the last seats near the big doors.
There he sat down—poor, weary man, and laid his head on the back of the chair in front of him.
His soft hat rolled away in a corner, and I picked it up and put it on the seat next him. Then I sneaked in close to his feet.
He was making the low, soft noise that some people make in churches, for I have often stolen into them. This seemed to comfort him. The music rose and fell, and the boy’s voice soared and soared till in that evening hour, it seemed to be full of unnatural beauty and appeal.
It was almost dark where we were. A few of the lights high up in the cathedral were going, but we were far away, and they scarcely reached us. The organ went on after the human voices stopped—oh! the lovely music—sometimes soft and low, then high, and clear and sweet, and sometimes grumbling, like the waves of the sea in a storm.
I am only a dog, but the music told a story to me. I ran over all my past life, my ups and downs, my sorrows and delights—and I thought, if this means so much to me, when I understand it only on the surface, what must it mean to the weary, clever human being beside me.
After a time, the organ stopped. I think the organist had been having a good time to himself after the choir-boys had gone. Then a very strange thing happened. A voice sounded through the cathedral—a warm, persuasive voice, addressing all that army of vacant chairs.