Mr Carl Ullman is the hero of the tale.  The son of one of those German designers of earthenware who at intervals come and settle in the Five Towns for the purpose of explaining fully to the inhabitants how inferior England is to Germany, he had an English mother, and he himself was violently English.  He spoke English like an Englishman and German like an Englishman.  He could paint, model in clay, and play three musical instruments, including the organ.  His one failing was that he could never earn enough to live on.  It seemed as if he was always being drawn by an invisible string towards the workhouse door.  Now and then he made half a sovereign extra by deputizing on the organ.  In such manner had he been introduced to the Ebag ladies.  His romantic and gloomy appearance had attracted them, with the result that they had asked him to lunch after the service, and he had remained with them till the evening service.  During the visit they had learnt that his grandfather had been Court Councillor in the Kingdom of Saxony.  Afterwards they often said to each other how ideal it would be if only Mr Skerritt might be removed and Carl Ullman take his place.  And when Mr Skerritt actually was removed, by his own wickedness, they regarded it as almost an answer to prayer, and successfully employed their powerful interest on behalf of Carl.  The salary was a hundred a year.  Not once in his life had Carl earned a hundred pounds in a single year.  For him the situation meant opulence.  He accepted it, but calmly, gloomily.  Romantic gloom was his joy in life.  He said with deep melancholy that he was sure he could not find a convenient lodging in Oldcastle.  And the ladies Ebag then said that he must really come and spend a few days with them and Goldie and papa until he was “suited.”  He said that he hated to plant himself on people, and yielded to the request.  The ladies Ebag fussed around his dark-eyed and tranquil pessimism, and both of them instantly grew younger—­a curious but authentic phenomenon.  They adored his playing, and they were enchanted to discover that his notions about hymn tunes agreed with theirs, and by consequence disagreed with the vicar’s.  In the first week or two they scored off the vicar five times, and the advantage of having your organist in your own house grew very apparent.  They were also greatly impressed by his gentleness with Goldie and by his intelligent interest in serious questions.

One day Miss Ebag said timidly to her sister:  “It’s just six months to-day.”

“What do you mean, sister?” asked Mrs Ebag, self-consciously.

“Since Mr Ullman came.”

“So it is!” said Mrs Ebag, who was just as well aware of the date as the spinster was aware of it.

They said no more.  The position was the least bit delicate.  Carl had found no lodging.  He did not offer to go.  They did not want him to go.  He did not offer to pay.  And really he cost them nothing except laundry, whisky and fussing.  How could they suggest that he should pay?  He lived amidst them like a beautiful mystery, and all were seemingly content.  Carl was probably saving the whole of his salary, for he never bought clothes and he did not smoke.  The ladies Ebag simply did what they liked about hymn-tunes.