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.”

“Well,” said the bishop, “we really came to see you.  You play the organ, and we are minus an organist at our chapel services.  Mr. Keyes, our organist, we have just learned, has been taken suddenly ill and is in the hospital.  Can you serve us until he returns?”

“I hardly know how to answer you, Bishop,” replied Carl, hesitatingly.  “I am working for Mr. Sparrow; and, besides, I have had no practice, with the exception of last evening, for a long time, which is, of course, a serious disadvantage.  But if Mr. Sparrow does not object, I will do the best I can for you.”

The end of the matter was that that evening Carl conducted all the musical services in the chapel.

The news soon spread abroad that remarkable music could be heard in the Monastery, and the people flocked there from outside to hear it, and the spacious chapel became crowded at even the everyday services.  This new organist improvised such harmonies as they had never heard before.  And this inspiration seemed to touch the faculty as each member of it took his turn in conducting the services.  Bishop Albertson preached as never before.  He seemed to almost ignore his notes as he talked to the people, and the people in turn manifested a devoutness never witnessed before by a Monastery congregation.  Dr. Ezra Day had ever been a favorite, but the present hour brought him a far greater degree of popularity.  The veteran Dr. Peregrine Worth also preached as never before.  Indeed, everything seemed to receive new life; the old monotony had departed; something new had come.  What was it?  Was this what the Methodists called a revival?