hooted the old owl. "You'll see! They'll pull your tails,
and tickle your feathers, and prick you with thorns. I know them, the
tricksy, troublesome things! I've been here many a long year. You were
only hatched last summer. To-whoo, to-whoo!"

Just at this moment the church-clock began to strike twelve. At the
first clang the owls ceased to hoot, and Roger listened to the deep
notes, almost awe-struck, as they sounded one by one. He knew the voice
of the clock well, but it never before sounded so loud or so solemn:
five--six--seven--eight--nine--ten--eleven--twelve. It was Christmas
Day.

As the last echo died away, a new sound took its place. From afar off
came the babble of tiny voices drawing nearer. Anything so gay and
charming was never dreamed of before,--half a laugh, half a song, the
tones blended into an enchanting peal, like bells on a frolic. Above the
old tower the sounds clustered and increased,--then a long, distressed
cry came from the owl, and a bubbling laugh floated in on the wind.
Roger could not stand it. Wild to see, he flew to the window, and tried
to stretch his neck in such a way as to catch what was going on above;
but it was a vain attempt, and just then the church-bells began to ring
all together, a chime, a Christmas chime, only the sounds were
infinitely small, as if baby hands had laid hold on the ropes. But his
sharpened senses brought every note and change to Roger's ears, and they
were so merry and so lovely that he felt he must get nearer or die; and
almost before he knew it he was climbing the dark belfry-stairs as fast
as his feet could carry him, never thinking of fear or darkness, only of
the elfin bells which were pealing overhead.

Up, up, through the long slits in the tower the moon could be seen
sailing in the cold, clear blue. Higher, higher,--at last he gained the
belfry. There hung the four great bells, but nobody was pulling at their
heavy ropes. On each iron tongue was perched a fay; on the chains which
suspended them clustered others, all keeping time by the swaying of
their bodies as they swung to and fro, just grazing either side, and
bringing forth a clear, delicate stroke, sweet as laughter,--just loud
enough for fairy ears.

Through the windows the crowd of floating fays could be seen whirling
about in the moonlight like glittering gossamer. They floated in and out
of the tower, they mounted the great bells and sat atop in swarms, they
chased and pushed each oth