A literary and musical entertainment was to be given. It was to be a sort of Thanksgiving festival; the best speakers and singers had been engaged and they had spent much time in rehearsal. The bishop was to preside. The hour had arrived, but alas, where was the organist? No word as to the cause of his absence had been received, and a substitute must be found. Who, then, could be organist? John Keyes was the only man among them that was acquainted with the numbers; he had rehearsed them. But yesterday he had rushed away to visit his mother, who was ill, expecting to be able to return in time, and Professor Cummings was greatly disturbed because unsuccessful in finding someone to take his place. The president and faculty were approaching. They should now be singing the welcoming "Gloria." Instead, the great organ was silent. But listen! Someone had touched the keys. The audience arose simultaneously and sounded forth the grand old chorus, "Glory to God in the Highest." Few in the audience suspected that John Keyes was not at the organ. No one dreamed that the fingers pressing those keys had not during the last year and a half touched a musical instrument. But the festival went on with artistic smoothness to the finish. None was more surprised than the bishop, who at the close turned to thank the young man; but Carl had slipped away and was not to be seen. During the entire entertainment Tom sat on a stool as if he were petrified. This was the astonishment of his young life. Next morning the stalwart voices of the students were heard as usual in their early devotions, but there were no notes of the organ accompanying them. Word had been received that Keyes himself was ill, and, strange as it may seem, of all the one hundred and seventy-four students none felt sufficiently proficient to assume his place at the organ. "Who played the organ last night?" asked the bishop. "Why can he not play?" "O, he is not a student. He is a young Englishman from the farm, a relative of Sparrow's," replied the professor. "Well, why don't you secure his services until Keyes returns? I wanted to thank him last night but could not find him. That young man is a musician, whoever he is. I will go over with you and we will see Sparrow." But they did not find the farmer; instead, they fell in with Carl in the office of the warehouse. Tom stood on a box taking a lesson in penmanship. The copy was, "Honesty is the best policy." The writing lesson was being accompanied by a lesson in honesty. The visitors listened on the other side of the thin partition to what Carl was saying to Tom. "Honesty is telling the truth," were his words. "Honesty means not keeping back anything. Honesty means telling a thing as it is. Telling the truth--not more, not less." The grave bishop tapped at the door which was immediately opened by Carl. "Is Mr. Sparrow here?" asked the professor. "No, sir," was the reply. "He has gone to Centerville, but will return by noon."