Fulbert pronounced that a cathedral
chorister could never be any great shakes; and Clement could not
forgive one who had been frivolous enough to be distracted by a
jackdaw; but Lance, trusting to his friend's personal attractions to
overcome all prejudice, trotted blithely off to the organist-
schoolmaster, to beg the loan of the music, and received a promise of
a practice in church in the evening. Meantime, he begged Clement to
play the accompaniment for him on the old piano. Neither boy knew
that it had been scarcely opened since their father's hand had last
lingered fondly upon it. Music had been found to excite their mother
to tears; Geraldine resembled Fulbert in unmusicalness, and Wilmet
had depended on school, the brothers on their choir-practice, so that
the sound was like a new thing in the house; nor was any one prepared
either for the superiority of Clement's playing, or for the exceeding
beauty and sweetness of Lance's singing. No one who appreciated the
rare quality of his high notes wondered that he was indispensable;
Geraldine could hardly believe that the clear exquisite proclamation,
that came floating as from an angel voice, could really come from the
little, slight, grubby, dusty urchin, who stood with clasped hands
and uplifted face; and Clement himself--though deferring the
communication till Lance was absent, lest it should make him vain--
confided to Wilmet that they had no such voice at St Matthew's, and
it was a shame to waste him on Anglicans.
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