"But that seems such a small matter. Surely that could be readjusted."
"Well, father thought it really did not matter, for any boy who happens to be here rings it and pulls it too roughly, and it gets out of order."
"But here you have a ready-made bellringer," said Tom, looking at Jack. "Standing upon a hassock, Jack could quite well ring that little bell, and he would do it gently and carefully. I think Jack must be the bellringer, and I will see about the bell being put in order to-day. I think a bell is a good thing. It lets people know we are at work."
Jack grew crimson with delight. It made him feel quite a man that he should be singled out to ring the bell.
"May I, Aunt Betty: May I ring the bell?"
"Surely, Jack, if you're man enough."
So that afternoon saw Tom at work with a carpenter he had got hold of in the township, climbing up to the tiny bell-turret, and getting the bell once again into position with a brand new rope hanging inside wherewith to pull it, and on Sunday Jack awoke with the dawn and talked of nothing but the honour which was to be his that day, the office of bell-ringer. He was to call for Tom Chance on his way down to the church and to have his first lesson.
Eva was left to follow later with her mother, and never was boy prouder than Jack when he marched off, hand-in-hand, with the parson.
"S'pose I can't do it," he said with a little gasp as he entered, pulling off his straw hat.
"But you're sure to do it; it's a small bell and handled gently will be quite easy to ring. You may have to stand upon a chair."