LOCKED IN
Right below our old house on the hillside stands the church. It is a
little wooden church, white-painted and low, with irregular windows, one
low and another high, over the whole church. The doors are low and even
the tower is low; the spire scarcely reaches up over the big
maple-trees, as we can see from our windows. But then the maple-trees
are tremendously big.
Every one in town says that the bells in our church tower are
remarkable. They are considered unusually musical, and I think they are,
too; and nothing could be more fun than to stand up in the tower when
those great bells are being rung!
It is awfully thrilling--exactly as if your ear-drums would be split.
When you put your fingers in your ears, draw them quickly out, stuff
them in again--it is like a roaring ocean of sound. You should just hear
it!
It is great fun to slip in after old Peter, the bellows-blower, when he
is going up to ring the bells; to grope your way up the steep worm-eaten
stairs with cobwebs in every corner,--and the higher you go the narrower
and steeper are the stairs; to hide yourself back of the timbers and in
the corners so that Peter sha'n't see you; to stand there in that
tremendous bell-clanging and then to rush down over the old stairs as if
you were crazy, before Peter has shut the tower windows again and
shuffled his way down.
Peter would be furious if he saw us, you know. However, he has seen us
sometimes, for all our painstaking, though he can't hear us--he is deaf
as a post--and he certainly can scold; and when he scolds he threatens
us with all the worst things he knows of--telling the minister and the
dean and everybody.
But his scolding doesn't make much difference. Our clambering up into
the tower certainly can't do the least harm to any one; so, even after
he has scolded us, the next time we see him slinking along and squeezing
himself in through the church door (he never opens it wider than just
enough to push himself through exactly like a little black mouse
creeping through a crack), we are right after him, you may be sure.
Sometimes there will be ten or twelve of us, without his knowing a thing
about it.
But once I got rather the worst of it when I stole up to the church
tower after Peter. It was grewsome, I can tell you, for only think, I
got locked in the church! I have been up in the tower since, just the
same, only I don't dare to go alone any more, though I wasn't exactly
alone that time I'm telling you about, either; I had my little brother,
Karl, with me. But as he was only a little bit of a fellow, he wasn't
any help.
It was one Saturday afternoon. Every Saturday at five o'clock the
church bells are rung to ring the Sabbath in. Karl and I were just
passing the church when Peter came slinking along with his trousers
turned up as usual. It was an afternoon towards autumn, not dark
yet--far from it--but not so very light either. And how the wind blew
that day! almost a gale. The big maple-trees creaked and groaned. All at
once I had an overwhelming desire to run up into the tower and hear how
the bells sounded when the wind blustered and howled so around the
church.
"You go home now, Karl," said I, "run as fast as you can. Just let me
see how fast you can run." Oh no! indeed, he wouldn't. He just clung
fast to me and wanted to go with me. Oh well--pooh!--I could just as
well take him along. It would be fun for him, too, to hear the bells.
When I thought Peter was well up the first flight of stairs I pushed
open the heavy church door with its lead weight, and Karl and I squeezed
into the church. He was heavy to drag up the stairs and I hauled and
dragged as hard as I could, and he never whimpered once,--just thought
it was great fun.
Peter had already begun to ring. The gale raged up here as if we were
out on a wild sea, and sent mournful wails through all the cracks and
openings. The church tower itself seemed to sway!
I had got Karl up the last flight of stairs. Back of the great
cross-beam we were splendidly hidden. I peeped out once or twice. Peter
stood with his eyes shut and pulled and pulled on the great rope. The
big bells swung back and forth over our heads.
Oh! how the bells clanged and how the wind howled and roared! I had to
force myself to stand still and not jump over to the window to look down
upon the trees as they swayed and bowed in the strong blast. But I must
not do it, of course, for then Peter would see me and I should only get
another long scolding preachment. Besides, I had all I could do to keep
fast hold of Karl. He was determined to go out from behind the beam,
and every time the bells rang louder than usual he screamed with
delight. He was welcome to scream as loud as he liked, Peter could hear
nothing of it anyway.
But all of a sudden, and very much sooner than I had expected, Peter
stopped ringing. One, two, three--he slammed the tower windows shut. As
quickly as possible I hurried Karl down the first two flights, but by
that time Peter was almost upon us. Without thinking of anything except
that Peter mustn't see us, I dragged Karl back into a dark corner,
though it was dusky everywhere. At that moment Peter passed us. He
shuffled along close to us and I could hear how carefully he groped his
way down the stairs.
All at once it flashed over me that he would get down from the tower
before we did, lock the door and go away. I clutched Karl and dragged
him along over the nearly dark stairs, he stumbling, falling and crying
a little. Peter was already in the weapon-room.
"Peter, Peter!" I shouted anxiously. "Don't lock it! Don't lock it! I am
up here."
But do you suppose that Peter heard? Not a bit!
He opened the heavy church door and slammed it shut again. By that time
I was right there, shouting and hammering at the door; but the key
turned in the lock and Peter went his way round the corner.
Yes, he had gone, and there were we!
I was so afraid,--I don't believe I was ever so afraid in my whole long
life! I hammered on the door with my fists, I shouted and screamed.
Nobody heard me. Outside, the storm howled and roared.
No, I knew well enough that in such weather no one would think of coming
to the churchyard, not even a child or a maid with a baby-carriage. And
the church door opened on the churchyard, not on the street. It was
impossible for any one to hear us all the way from the street in such a
storm.
I turned around almost wild with fright. What could I do?
Perhaps--perhaps we could get out through a window.
But if we tried that, we must go into the church itself. And just think!
I got more afraid than ever when I thought of that, for all the ghost
stories I had ever heard came to my mind. Suppose that Mina's
great-grandfather, for instance, whose tomb was in there, should come
walking down the church aisle, stiff and white!
I clutched Karl's hand so tightly that he screamed.
"Karl dear--little man--we must go into the church. You won't be afraid,
will you?"
Karl looked uncertain as he gazed at me and asked:
"Are you afraid?"
Then I realized that I must be brave; and when there is a "must" you
can, you know; and there is no use in whimpering, anyway.
"Are you afraid?" asked little Karl again.
"Oh, no--no, indeed."
So I opened the door of the church and peeped in. Rows upon rows of
empty seats showed dimly through the half darkness, but there wasn't the
least sign of Mina's great-grandfather.
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 embarrassing that would be!
No, no, I wouldn't ring the bells. I'd rather shout myself hoarse. 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 God 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 pass 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.
[Illustration: 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.
"Oh, never mind that! Just run and get the key, do please, Jens." Then
Jens trudged away.
Oh, how long he was gone! I stared and stared at the lilac bushes
swaying back and forth before the window, twisting and bending low in
the storm, and I waited and waited, but no Jens appeared. It grew darker
and darker and Karl cried in earnest now, and wanted to smash all the
windows with the clasped book. The only thing that gave me comfort was
Jens' tin pail. It lay on the ground shining through the dark. I
reasoned that Jens was sure to come back to get his pail. Finally I
heard footsteps and voices, a key was put in the lock, and there at the
open door stood the deacon, Jens, and the deacon's eight children.
"Who is this disturbing the peace of the church?" asked the deacon with
the corners of his mouth drawn down.
"I haven't disturbed anything," said I. "I only want to get out."
"There must be an explanation of this," said the deacon. "I have no
orders to open the church at this time of the day."
I began to be afraid that the door would be shut again!
"Oh, but you will let me out!" said I pleadingly.
"Ah, in consideration of the circumstances," said the deacon. I did not
wait to hear more, but squeezed myself and Karl out and through the
deacon's flock of children.
Since that day when I meet old Jens, he bows to me in a very knowing
way; and if I want to tease him I say, "Weren't you the 'fraid-cat that
time I called to you from the church?"
I myself was more afraid than he was, but old Jens couldn't know that.
And what do you think of my having to pay for the pane of glass I broke
in the vestry? Well--that was exactly what I had to do, if you please.