"I wish that boy would stick to his singing, and let the organ alone," he muttered. "People tell me every day that if I don't look sharp my little brother will beat me at my own profession. He would make me a nice return for my kindness, if, after I have taken him into my house, fed him, clothed him, and taught him everything that he knows about music, he should try to outstrip me in my own work and shame me before my friends. I won't have it! I won't bear it! I'll admit that the boy is industrious and generally obedient, but I sha'n't let him impose on me, if he _is_ of my own flesh and blood. Why should these people go to hear _him_ practise? Why don't they drop in while _I_ am playing? I am the organist, although people seem to forget the fact. I think I'll step over to the church and see what these people are going mad about." Into the shadowy edifice he stole, taking up his position behind the two women whose coming had so clearly annoyed him. The peal of the organ was filling the place from floor to dome, but though the women listened with eager attention, the face of Christoff Bach gradually softened. "He is playing his studies, just as I have taught him. Any boy who is willing to work could do as well. There is nothing remarkable in that performance. I needn't be worried for my position yet awhile." High in the organ-loft Sebastian practised faithfully, unaware of the presence of kindred or stranger. Page after page he rehearsed, sometimes repeating a difficult passage many times before leaving it. At length he removed the thick scroll from the rack, and replaced it with a second book of musical manuscript. Then the church re-echoed with sounds of a brilliant fugue. At the first note Christoff Bach started violently and his mouth fell open with astonishment. He strained forward to be sure that he heard aright, and as the inspiriting theme rolled through the vaulted spaces his eyes grew sinister and his hands were clenched so tightly that his nails dug savagely into his palms. "My book," he gasped; "the music that I copied at Arnstadt for my own use! When did he decide to steal it, and undertake to learn my best selections? He can't keep to his own pieces, but must filch out mine during my absence, and fumble them on the organ so that my friends can laugh at me for being outdone by a ten-year-old. The braggart! I'd thrash him soundly if I hadn't promised father that I'd keep my hands off him; but I'll settle this business before I sleep. The upstart!" Raging inwardly, Christoff Bach stalked from the church; and half an hour later Sebastian quietly took his music bag under his arm and started homeward, conscious that he was very hungry, and that an appetizing New Year's dinner would be ready when he arrived.