Christoff, however, came only half-way down, and stood upon the stair, holding the candle high above his head and peering about the dusky kitchen for traces of intruders. Nothing out of the ordinary greeted his gaze, for Sebastian had hastily righted the chair before beating his retreat, and the music roll had not yet been taken from the cupboard. The organist, perceiving no mark of robbers, heaved a sigh of relief and quickly repaired to his room, deciding that the disturbance must have been an ugly dream. Six months had glided slowly by, bringing their gifts of increasing warmth and fragrance, when, one clear midsummer's night, Sebastian finished his book. He was so beset with agitation upon discovering that only one page remained to be copied that he could scarcely command himself to pen the finishing notes. "I'm almost done," he murmured over and over, as his quill flew across the paper. "One line more, and the fugues will be mine! Now, a single measure, a single measure! One note--ah--it is done, it is done!" The monument to little Bach's courage and fidelity was built. The pen dropped from his aching fingers, and, overcome with weariness, he laid down his head beside the closely written sheets and fell asleep. His friend, the moon, shone upon him brightly for a time, and in her pearly beams the tired child's face was as white as the page beside it. Even she withdrew at length, and nothing disturbed the silence of the room but the regular breathing of the sleeper. He was awakened by a voice exclaiming,-- "Bübchen, what are you doing here?" Sebastian started up, bewildered, for Mrs. Bach stood beside him, and the kitchen was blazing with sunshine. [Illustration: "Sebastian started up, bewildered."] "I--I don't understand," whispered he, dazed by the brightness and the woman's presence. Mrs. Bach laughed and shook him good-naturedly. "You're still asleep, that's what is the matter. See, it's breakfast time, and I am ready to put the kettle on. What have you been doing here?" Sebastian merely pointed to his final page, lying next Christoff's, and Mrs. Bach gathered the truth at once. Up went her hands in astonishment, but prudence stifled the comments that rose to her lips. "Quick! Run up to your room with your papers, and I'll get this roll back into the cabinet. Hurry, for Christoff will be down in a minute!" Sebastian obeyed, and from the bottom of the stairs Mrs. Bach called him as usual when breakfast was ready. The following months were filled with delight for Sebastian, who studied his fugues with ever-deepening happiness. For this practice, he intentionally chose the hour when his brother was engaged in teaching at a distant quarter of the town. Every day, when Christoff set off to the house of his pupil, Sebastian would hurry to the church, and play from his precious book until time for the organist to return for his own organ-work.