it's big, ever so big,' he said, stretching out his hands to show
me its size.

'Why, whoever gave you it?' I asked.

'It isn't Jack's own organ,' said the child.

'Whose is it, then?'

'It's father's, father's own organ.'

It seemed to me a most extraordinary thing for the mission preacher of
Runswick Bay to have in his possession, but I did not like to ask any
more questions at that time.

However, in the afternoon my little friend called to me over, the wall,
'Big Mr. Jack, come here.'

'Come where, my little man?'

'Come inside and look at father's organ; I'll play it to you, Mr. Jack.'

'What will father say if I come in?'

'Father's out.'

'What will mother say?'

'Mother's out too.'

I did not much relish the idea of entering a man's house in his absence,
but such plaintive entreaties came from the other side of the wall. Over
and over again he pleaded, 'Do come, Mr. Jack; do come quick, Mr. Jack!'
that at last, to please the child, I left my work for a few minutes and
went up the steps which led to the gate of their garden.

It was only a small place, but very prettily laid out. There was a tiny
lawn, well kept, and covered with short, soft grass, and in the centre
of this a round bed filled with geraniums, calceolarias, and lobelias.
Round the lawn, at the edge of the garden, was a border, in which grew
all manner of gay and sweet-smelling flowers. There were asters and
mignonette, sweet-peas and convolvolus, heliotrope and fuchsias. Then in
front of me was the pretty cottage, with two gables and a red-tiled
roof, the walls of which were covered from top to bottom with creeping
plants. Ivy and jessamine, climbing roses, virginia-creeper, and
canariensis, all helped to make the little place beautiful.

'What a pretty home you have, little Jack!' I said.

He kept tight hold of my hand, lest I should escape from him, and led me
on--into a tiny entrance hall, past one or two doors, down a dark
passage, and into a room at the back.

This room had a small bow-window overlooking the sea, the walls were
covered with bookshelves, a writing-table stood in the window, and in
the corner by the fireplace was the extraordinary object I had been
brought to see--an extremely ancient and antiquated barrel-organ.

What a peculiar thing to come across in a preacher's study! What
possible use could he have for it? It was a most dilapidated old
instrument, almost falling to pieces with old age. The shape was