s 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