The young man scholar, with his books strapped
by a belt over his shoulder, wends to Oak Grovery
and its huge church, He enters by the rear door
and takes a short cut through !he choir stalls.
He is happy today to see the little organist
sitting at the console of the organ.
The stout man's appearance is quietly striking.
His beard is the first thing you look at because
it is grizzled.
It is not grey, but a mixture of entwisted ivory
black and silvery white hair, very coarse, and
very pleasant to see.
The yellow light over the music rack in front of the
organist rests on his hands. They are funny hands.
The backs and palms are small and the fingers,
which are covered in the middle of every joint
of every finger with black tufts of hair, are
sausage-like. The young man looks at Doctor Charles'
spectacles which are so thick, they make his eyes
blue balloons from the front.
The ragged look of Doctor Charles always strikes young Tom
with a peculiar chord of affection.
The bulbous eyes of the organist look up, still heavy
with concentration, but then fill with a knowing light
when they see a tall, lithe fellow waiting to spoken with.
"Oh, hello Tom," greets Dr, Charles. "How are you dear boy?"
"Fine thank you sir. May I join you?"
"Of course. You can turn pages for me in these 'Tocattas'
before we go downstairs for tea."
The Musician pushes down his feet on the polished chrome
pistons;
pulls out an assortment of stops; taps a few couplers with a knuckle and his rich musical spirit pours out from the pipes as he plays. The young student watches the little black notes carefully as they weave about on the score and he turns each page in turn as the musician dances vigorously; his jumping feet patting the pedal board and his fingers pressing
forcibly on the ivory keys, Dr. Charles always plays one
or two of Tom's favourites before he locks up the organ
and they go to his comfortable office downstairs.
Their little talks mean knowledge for Tom and pleasure for
Dr. Charles one day each week.
One loves to give of himself, and the other,
still in the impressionable and selfish age, likes to receive.
They talk animatedly on the works of Shakespeare,
guns and rifles, a political situation, Blake,
boxing and, of course, music.
They can laugh without any worry to distract them
or can sympathize without being maudlin.
Such is the depth of their friendship.
The old organist wasn't to be found.
Tom went to the Rector and asked where his friend was.
The Rector seemed very busy but looked over his glasses, which were set on the very edge of his nose.
He told Tom that Dr. Charles was sick in the hospital
and would be away for along while.
Tom got the name of the hospital, thanked Canon James and walked away.
On his way home, Tom was depressed.
He felt flat.
Then he remembered that he had heard rumours in school a few days before that 'Old Charley is ailin'.'
But this tale was spread by the choir boys, whom he liked to think said these awful things so that they might be
able to ankle out of a Friday night choir practise
with Dr. Charles.
When he got home he told his mother the bad news.
He thought that he would go to the hospital and
take him something. It would cheer him up.
She told him that it would be a good idea but not
to stay too long so to tire him.
He agreed with her and after dinner and homework, went
to bed.
He found it vary difficult to go to sleep that night
because he couldn't help feeling that Dr. Charles was
suffering with the worst ailments imaginable.
Tom would picture himself going to the hospital
and seeing Dr. Charles, curled up in white bedsheets,
looking sallow.
He would not look like an organist then; the organist
with such power and vitality would be sunken in like a corpse.
Tom, who had always loved his life and work in school,
found every subject, the next day, dragging horribly.
The only eagerness he felt was to go to the hospital and
to see his friend. When the last class was dismissed,
he got out of school
as fast as he could. He couldn't think of anything
as he stepped quickly along the street.
He stopped only once on the way at a book store to to
pick up a book.
As he again proceeded he could see the hospital in
the distance. And as he drew closer to it, he got nervous.
Soon he stood at the door of Dr. Charles' private room.
He went in and saw the organist sleeping peacefully
with a slight smile on his face.
He was not at all sunken in like a corpse as Tom
had supposed the night before.
He went to his side and whispered in his ear.
Dr. Charles opened his eyes slowly and looked at him.
His face held a very blank expression for some moments
but then he said,
"Would you pass me my specs please? They are on the table there." Tom handed him his glasses.
When the organist put them on, his face lit with a surprise and an appreciation.
"I brought a present for you, sir," said Tom
"I brought the little book of Blake's poems we
were talking about last time. The book store finally
got it in."
"Oh, Tom, my dear boy, how very kind of you.
Thanks ever so much," said Dr. Charles
as he opened it.
A tear appeared in the corner of his eye and Tom's heart throbbed heavily as he saw it magnified in the organist's glasses.
"How long - I mean - will you be here for very long?"
inquired the young man.
"I don't think so Tom, but the doctor tells me
that I am recovering fairly well, considering."
"Well, what is it you - uh ...?"
"A heart attack, old fellow," replied Dr. Charles
who seemed to read Tom's mind." But don't worry, I'll be alright. You can't get rid of me that easily!"
"I didn't mean that," said Tom laughing,
"I didn't mean that at all. I was just worried
when you weren't at the church. I thought maybe
you were transferred or something. Heck, your dying
on me was only of secondary importance."
"Oh, I see. Well, don't count on my recovering; "
I might just die to spite that remark."
"Oh don't, Dr. Charles" responded Tom in mock shock,
"You would certainly be given up to 'sulphurous
and tormenting flames' if you killed yourself just
for me."
"It would be worth it."
The boy could no longer contain himself and burst to
laughing.
The old man too, appeared overly happy and laughed with
him.
They talked on and seemed to have a better chat than ever
before.
But then Tom remembered what his mother had told him
about staying too long, so he turned to go.
As he reached the door he looked around and smiled.
Dr. Charles smiled a very vital smile and shouted joyfully,
"I'll see you at church very soon, Tom, old fellow,"
and then added quietly, "but I shall not-uh-be at
the organ. Goodbye."
Tony Andras