He had only a vague idea what might be the remuneration; ten, or
twelve, or fifteen pounds a year, he fancied it might bring in. Better
that, than nothing; it would be a beginning to follow in the wake that
Constance had commenced; and he could do it of an evening, or at other
odd times. "I won't lose an hour in asking for it," thought Arthur.

At one o'clock, when he was released from the office, he ran through
the Boundaries to the cloisters, intending to pass through them on his
way to the house of the organist, that being rather a nearer road to
it, than if he had gone round the town. The sound of the organ,
however, struck upon his ear, causing him to assume that it was the
organist who was playing. Arthur tried the cathedral door, found it
open, and went it.

It was Mr. Williams. He had been trying some new music, and rose from
the organ as Arthur reached the top of the stairs, no very pleasant
expression on his countenance.

"What is the matter?" asked Arthur, perceiving that something had put
him out.

"I hate ingratitude," responded Mr. Williams. "Jenkins," he called out
to the old bedesman, who had been blowing for him, "you may go to your
dinner; I shan't want you any more now."

Old Jenkins hobbled down from the organ-loft, and Mr. Williams
continued to Arthur:

"Would you believe that Jupp has withdrawn himself utterly?"