The experiment in the church was arranged for the next morning.
Frans and his companion were left in custody for the night, and the colonel went home with a sad heart, but not without some hope that his son would be proved to be innocent. For it was true that Frans had been much at the golden house, and was a great favourite there, and it was not impossible that the temptation to free him had been too strong for Pelle to resist.
The morning came, and at eleven o'clock there was an unusual gathering in the parish church. The stillness round the marble sleepers on the monumental tombs was broken, not by the sound of prayer and praise, but by the low hush of murmuring voices and the tramp of eager feet. Pelle came quietly in and took his usual seat. He bowed his head, just from habit, then followed a silent petition, not for a blessing on the services of the sanctuary, but that the innocent might be defended and the guilty brought to justice.
He raised himself up and sat down, intending to wait for further orders. He suddenly said in a sharp voice, "Take off your hat, Adam or Enos!" and then turned unconsciously to look behind him. Yes, there stood one of the twins, which he could not say, his mouth wide with delight, while a murmur went round, "He was right this time!"
"Of course it was all planned before at the cottage," said a dissenting voice.
"I don't plan to have boys stand in the church with their hats on," said Pelle.
"I ordered the boy to take his place there myself," said the magistrate.
Again and again the experiment was tried, and with success, even the pastor and the magistrate curiously taking their turn in the performance; Pelle then, most respectfully stating whom he had had the honour to see, bowing as he did so.
At last all present were fully convinced that Pelle had spoken the truth, and he was conducted in a kind of triumphal procession back to the cottage.
The question was everywhere agitated, "What is to 'come of' Pelle's testimony?" The fate of the boys was not to be altogether decided by him.