"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.
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?"