Patiently the child sat, pillowed in his bed, till the golden arrows of
light flashed over the earth. Day had come, but no chime.

"What can be the matter?" said the anxious mother, as she strained her
eyes in the direction of the tower.

What if the old sexton were dead? The thought took all her strength
away. If death had taken him first, who would lay her boy tenderly away?

"Is it almost time?"

"Almost, Jimmy, darling. Perhaps the old sexton has slept late."

"Will the bells chime in heaven, mother?"

"Yes, dear, I hope so."

"Will they ring them for me if--if--I--mother! hark! the bells _are_
ringing! The good old sexton has gone to the church at last!"

The boy's eyes glistened with a strange light. In vain the mother
listened. No sound came to _her_ ears. All was still as death.

"Oh, how beautiful they sing!" he said, and fell back and died.

Other chimes fell on his ear, sweeter far than the bells of St. Auburn.

For more than an hour the old sexton had been working at the ropes
in vain. No sound come forth from either bell.