B O Y S
G I R L S
THE BELL THAT RANG AGAIN
by ETHEL BELLINGER HANSEN
B uddy and Berta stood in the middle of the road look ing up at the steeple of the little church—a little white church—way out in the country where they were vacationing with Mother. “ And a bell, too!” Buddy was excited. They climbed the steps and there, tacked on the door, was a sign. “What does it say, Mother?” asked Berta. “ It says that the church is closed.” Mother spoke slowly. Perhaps she was thinking of her recent visitor from the state of Maine. He had told of seeing any signs on churches as he had driven across the states. “ And the bell won’t ring again, Mother?” Buddy spoke in distress. “ Of course not, silly! See, the door’s locked,” and Berta gave a little pull at the latch as she answered him. “Won’t the bell ever ring again, Mother?” Buddy’s little face was solemn. “Not unless some one who loves the Lord Jesus comes and opens the church.” There was a moment’s pause, and then an eager voice spoke: “We love the Lord Jesus. Couldn’t we open the church?” There was another pause—longer this time—before Mother answered. Then she said firmly, “Yes! Why not?” “ Then the bell would ring again!” The little fellow looked at his sister as he added, “ And we could ring it!” So to the store across the road the three of them hurried. The sign said the storekeeper had the key. “ Sunday School, you say? The church has been closed for quite a long time. Apt to be quite dusty, too. This Sunday, you say?” Yes! said Buddy earnestly. “We love Jesus, so we can open the church and ring the bell. And then Mother had to explain so that the storekeeper would understand. “Well! W ell!” said the storekeeper as he gazed at the little four-year-old boy.
“Mother can teach, and Buddy and I can pass out the hymn books,” volunteered Berta. “ I’m afraid there aren’t any hymn books.” The store keeper’s voice sounded as though he wished there were. “ Oh! then we can sing right out of our hearts.” Berta spoke quickly. “ Of course!” said Mother as she looked lovingly at the two eager faces. “ Better make another sign and tack it over that one,” suggested the storekeeper. Back to camp they went, and before long returned with their sign and some tacks. They drove the tacks in with a stone—one in each corner. Then they went to the store again to ask the storekeeper if he would “tell every one who came into the store that the church would be open Sunday. There was a big smile on the store keeper’s face as he promised to do so. “ This Sunday afternoon at two o’clock,” said Buddy. “ And the bell will ring again!” The storekeeper looked at Buddy’s eager face. And again all that he said was “Well! Well!” And then Berta and Buddy and Mother went the length of that lovely valley, stopping at every home to tell that the church would be open Sunday afternoon at two o’clock. And at each house Buddy would add as they turned away, “ This Sunday afternoon at two o’clock.” Early Sunday afternoon— long before two o’clock— the storekeeper unlocked the door of the church. Berta and Buddy and Mother were already waiting on the steps. The air was musty as they went inside. The storekeeper opened some of the windows. Even though the sun was shining brightly outside none of the sunshine could get through the dirty window-panes. Some of the pews had been taken away. The ones remaining were dusty—very dusty. So were the chairs. Plaster lay in little heaps here and there on the floor. A dust-hung cobweb stretched clear across the room. It was truly a deserted-looking place.
56
THE KING'S BUSINESS
Made with FlippingBook Annual report