Although the people did not know what rang the bells, they loved to hear them. They would come from miles around to listen to the wonderful music. When they had heard the bells, they would go out of the church, silent but happy. Then all would go back to their homes feeling that Christmas had come, indeed.
One Christmas eve the people in the church waited and waited, but the bells did not ring. Silently and sadly they went home. Christmas after Christmas came and went. Nearly one hundred years passed by, and in all that time the bells did not ring.
People sometimes asked one another, "Do you suppose the bells ever did ring?"
"Yes," said one very old man. "I have often heard my father tell how beautifully they rang on Christmas eve. There was more love in the world then."
Every Christmas eve the church was filled with people who waited and listened. They hoped that the bells would ring again as they had rung long ago. Though many gifts were laid on the altar, still the bells did not ring.
II
Christmas was near at hand again, and every one was happy.
Not far from the city two little brothers lived on a farm—Pedro and Little Brother.
Their father was poor and had no gift to lay on the altar. But Pedro had saved all his earnings, and he had one shining silver piece. His father had promised the little boys that they might go to the church on Christmas eve and take the gift.
It was quite dark when the lads started on their way to the city. The snow was falling fast, but they buttoned their little jackets close about them and walked along briskly. They were not far from the church when they heard a low whine of distress. Little Brother, clinging to Pedro in fear, cried, "What is it, Pedro, what is it?"