“I DID hear a bell ring,” said Peter stubbornly.
Uncle Roger unlocked and flung open the front door. As he did so, clear and sweet, rang out ten bell-like chimes.
“That’s what I heard,” cried Peter. “There’s the bell!”
We had to wait until Uncle Roger stopped laughing before we heard the explanation. We thought he never WOULD stop.
“That’s Grandfather King’s old clock striking,” he said, as soon as he was able to speak. “Sammy Prott came along after tea, when you were away to the forge, Peter, and I gave him permission to clean the old clock. He had it going merrily in no time. And now it has almost frightened you poor little monkeys to death.”
We heard Uncle Roger chuckling all the way to the barn.
“Uncle Roger can laugh,” said Cecily, with a quiver in her voice, “but it’s no laughing matter to be so scared. I just feel sick, I was so frightened.”
“I wouldn’t mind if he’d laugh once and have it done with it,” said Felicity bitterly. “But he’ll laugh at us for a year, and tell the story to every soul that comes to the place.”
“You can’t blame him for that,” said the Story Girl. “I shall tell it, too. I don’t care if the joke is as much on myself as any one. A story is a story, no matter who it’s on. But it IS hateful to be laughed at—and grown-ups always do it. I never will when I’m grown up. I’ll remember better.”
“It’s all Peter’s fault,” said Felicity. “I do think he might have had more sense than to take a clock striking for a bell ringing.”