er, playing all sorts of pranks. Below, others
were attacking the owl's nest. Roger could hear their hoots and grunts
and the gleeful laughter of the elves. The moon made the tower light as
noon; all the time the elves sang or talked,--which, he could not tell;
there were words, but all so blent with laughs and mirthful trills that
it was nothing less than music.
To and fro, to and fro, keeping time to a fairy rhythm, they swayed in
unison with the tiny peal they rang. Little quarrels arose. Once Roger
watched an elf trying to mount the clapper, and whenever he neared the
top a mischievous comrade pushed him off again. Then the elf pouted,
and, flying away, he returned with a holly-leaf. Small as it was, it
curled over his head like a huge umbrella. With the spiky point he slyly
pricked the elf above; and he, taken by surprise, lost his hold, and
came tumbling down, while the other danced for glee and clapped his
hands mockingly. Pretty soon, however, all was made up again,--they
kissed and were friends,--and Roger saw them perched opposite each
other, and moving to and fro like children in a swing.
How long the pretty sight lasted he could not tell. So fearful was he of
marring the sport that he never stirred a finger; but all at once there
came a strain of music in the air, solemn, and sweeter than ever mortal
heard before. In a moment the elves left their sports; they clustered
like bees together in the window, and then flew from the tower in one
sparkling drift, and were gone, leaving Roger alone, and the owls
hooting below in the ivy.
And then he felt afraid,--which he had not been as long as the fays were
there,--and down he ran in a fright over the stone steps of the stairs,
and entered the church again. The red glow of the fire was grateful to
him, for he was shivering with cold and excitement; but hardly had he
regained his old seat, when, lo! a great marvel came to pass. The wide
window over the altar swung open, and a train of angels slowly floated
through. How he knew them to be angels, Roger could not have told; but
that they were, he was sure,--Christmas angels, with faces of calm,
glorious beauty, and robes as white as snow. Over the altar they
hovered, and a wonderful song rose and filled the church--no bird's
strain was ever half so sweet. The words were few, but again and again
and again they came: "Glory to God in the highest, on earth peace,
good-will to men!"
Roger knew the oft-repeated word
|