“Nothing, I am sure, would delight him more,” said the doctor. “Eh, my boy?”
“Nothing, indeed,” said George, “but—”
“But your reading, I suppose.”
“Never mind your reading, sir!” exclaimed the organist. “What’s that to music? Take my advice, and go in for music.”
Poor George! for a moment he felt tempted to abandon all his ambitions and resolutions at the prospect of a career so delightful and congenial.
But he was made of firmer stuff than Tom Drift, and replied,—
“I cannot do that, sir; but if I may come now and then—”
“Come whenever you like,” said the organist; and so saying he shook George and his friend by the hand, and hurried from the chapel.
This was the event which of all others brightened George Reader’s first year at college.
Instead of aimless walks, he now stole at every spare moment (without cutting into his ordinary work) to the organ, and there revelled in music.