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smashed a window-pane with it, and then I
stuck my face through the broken pane and
shouted out into the storm, “ Open the door! ”
Not a person was to be seen; but merely to
feel the fresh air bio wing on my face gave me
more courage.
“ Has God a knife? ” suddenly asked Karl.
Yes, I thought He had.
“ Well, if He has a knife, He could just cut
the door to pieces, and then we could go out.”
At that moment I saw old Jens pass the
win-dow as he came shambling through the
church-yard. He is a dull-witted fellow who lives at
the poorhouse.
I wasn’t slow in getting my face to the
win-dow again, you may be sure!
“ Jens, Jens-s-s! Come and open the door.
I’m locked in the church.”
Never in my life shall I forget how Jens
looked when he heard me call. He sank almost
to his knees; his lips moved quickly but without
a sound coming forth.
At last, when he had quite got it into his
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