There were intricacies of stops and keys, foot pedaling and fingering, that must be explained and practiced, but Mademoiselle early told Miss Hurley: “St. Cecilia, you are not, remembair, the grand organist; you are the sweet organist. For me”--she made the organ boom with a tumult of sound--“for me, yes! I am beeg and strong. But, for you”--she played some deliciously dainty bit--“because you are gentle and sweet!” And all the while Miss Jane and Mademoiselle were having their little love affair and their struggles with stops and pedals and keys, behind the green curtain of St. Bridget's organ loft, Lucille Hardcome was bringing all her diplomacy to bear against old Sam Wiggett's pocket. For her own part she made a direct assault: “Mr. Wiggett, you're going to give us a pipe organ!” She kept this up day in and day out: “Have you decided to give us that pipe organ?” and, “I haven't seen the pipe organ you are going to give us. Where is it?” Old Wiggett, who liked Lucille, chuckled. Perhaps he knew from the first that he would give the organ. Lucille set his daughter, Mary Derling, to coaxing, and primed unsuspecting old ladies to speak to Mr. Wiggett as if the organ was a certainty. She had Mort Walsh, the architect, prepare a plan for taking out a portion of the rear wall of the church without disturbing the regular services. She took a group of ladies to Derlingport to hear the pipe organ in the Presbyterian Church there. They returned enthusiastic advocates of an organ for our church, and Lucille, knowing Sam Wiggett, and sure the old fellow would love to have his name attached forever to some one big thing in the church, set the ladies to raising money for a pipe organ. This was a hopeless task and Lucille knew it. It was done to frighten Mr. Wiggett and make him hurry with his gift, lest he lose the opportunity. One result of the trip to Derlingport can be stated in the words of Mrs. Peter Minch, uttered as she came down the steps of the Derlingport church: “Well, Lucille, if we have an organ like that we will have to have more of an organist than Jane Hurley!” “Of course!” Lucille had said. “Jane Hurley and a pipe organ would be ridiculous!” So this was added to David's worries. The choir of four and Lucille--as musical dictator of the church--spoke to David almost immediately about the retirement of Miss Hurley. It would be better to say perhaps, that they spoke to him about the manner in which money could be raised to pay a satisfactory organist. They did not consider Miss Hurley as a possibility at all. She had done well enough with the old organ, and it had been pleasant for her, and well for the church, that she had been permitted to play the squeaky old instrument without pay, but she simply would not do when it came to the new organ. David listened, his head resting in his hand and one long finger touching his temple. He saw at once that a quarrel was in the air.