Part 14 (1/2)

I pulled Karl along, and we almost ran up the church aisle. The whole time I felt as if something was behind me that I must be on the watch against.

O dear, O dear, how frightened I was!

No, the windows were altogether too high up in the wall even to think of reaching. For an instant I had a desperate idea of piling seats up on top of the pulpit and trying to reach a window in that way, but all the seats were fastened to the floor, and, of course, to move the pulpit was impossible for me.

All at once the thought of the bells struck me--I could ring the bells!

I need only climb up to the tower, shove the shutters aside as I had seen Peter do many a time, and then just ring and ring till people came and unlocked the church.

But, O dear!--then the whole town would know of it and talk of it forever. How frightfully embarra.s.sing that would be!

No, no, I wouldn't ring the bells. I'd rather shout myself hoa.r.s.e. So Karl and I screamed: ”Open the door for us! Open the door, open the door!” But the storm outside roared and howled louder than we could and no one heard us. We didn't keep quiet an instant. We ran back and forth screaming, and banging and kicking on all the doors.

Suddenly I thought of the vestry. Like a flash I darted in there. Oh!

what a relief--what a relief! The windows here were low--only a few feet above the ground; here it would be easy enough to get out. I rushed to a window--but would you believe it! there wasn't a sign of a hook or a hinge! These windows hadn't been opened in all the hundreds of years the church had stood. That's the way people built in old times.

Here I was right near the ground and yet couldn't get out. In my desperation I seized an old book with a clasp that lay there, and smashed a window-pane with it, and then I stuck my face through the broken pane and shouted out into the storm, ”Open the door!”

Not a person was to be seen; but merely to feel the fresh air blowing on my face gave me more courage.

”Has G.o.d a knife?” suddenly asked Karl.

Yes, I thought He had.

”Well, if He has a knife, He could just cut the door to pieces, and then we could go out.”

At that moment I saw old Jens pa.s.s the window as he came shambling through the churchyard. He is a dull-witted fellow who lives at the poorhouse.

I wasn't slow in getting my face to the window again, you may be sure!

”Jens, Jens-s-s! Come and open the door. I'm locked in the church.”

Never in my life shall I forget how Jens looked when he heard me call.

He sank almost to his knees; his lips moved quickly but without a sound coming forth.

[Ill.u.s.tration: And smashed a window-pane with it.--_Page 165._]

At last, when he had quite got it into his head that it was my familiar face he saw at the vestry's broken window, he drew near very cautiously.

”Is she in the church?” was what came from him finally in the utmost amazement.

”Why, yes, you can see that I am,” said I. ”Run as fast as you can and get some one to open the door. Get the minister or the deacon or Peter, the bellows-blower.”

Jens set down a tin pail he carried and seemed to be thinking deeply.

”But how came she in church?”

I had no wish to explain to him.