“I don’t say that,” said Macey, “but it does seem very strange.”
“Oh, yes, of course it does,” said Gilmore mockingly. “Depend upon it there was a tiny chap with a cloth cap, ending in a point sitting up on the timbers among the bells with a big hammer in his hands, and he was pounding away at the bell till he saw us coming, and then off he went, hammer and all.”
“I didn’t say I believed that,” said Macey; “but I do say it’s very strange.”
“Well, good-night, Syme,” said the doctor, who had halted at the turning leading up to the rectory front door. “It is very curious, but I can’t help thinking that it was all a prank played by some of the town lads to annoy the sexton. Well, Vane, my boy, ready for bed once more?”
Vane started out of a musing fit and said good-night to his tutor and fellow-pupils to walk back with his uncle.
“I can’t puzzle it out, Vane. I can’t puzzle it out,” the doctor said, and the nephew shivered, for fear that the old gentleman should turn upon him suddenly and say, “Can you?”
But no such question was asked, for the doctor began to talk about different little mysteries which he had met with in his career, all of which had had matter-of-fact explanations that came in time, and then they reached the house, to find a light in the breakfast-room, where Aunt Hannah was dressed, and had prepared some coffee for them.
“Oh, I have been so anxious,” she cried. “Whose place is burned?”
“No one’s,” said the doctor, cheerily; and then he related their experience.
“I’m very thankful it’s no worse,” said Aunt Hannah. “Some scamps of boys must have had a string tied to the bell, I suppose.”