"What can be the matter?" he exclaimed, nervously. "For seven long years
they have not failed to ring out their tones. I'll try once more." And he
did so, vigorously.

Just then the figure of a man stood in the doorway. It was the owner
of the chime. He had gone to the sexton's house, not hearing the bells
at the usual hour, thinking he had overslept; and, not finding him, had
sought him at the church.

He tried the ropes himself, but with no more success than the sexton.

"What can it mean?" he said, as he turned sorrowfully away.

It was a sad Christmas in the pleasant valley. To have those sweet
sounds missing, and on such a day,--it was a loss to all, and an omen
of ill to many.

The next day, workmen were sent to the tower to examine the bells. No
defect was perceptible. They were sound and whole, and no mischief-making
lad, as some had suggested, had stolen their tongues.

The bells were taken down and carried to a distant city to be recast.

"There! didn't I tell you we should see the world?" said their leader,
after they were packed and on their way.

"I don't think we are seeing much of it now, in this dark box," answered
one of the bells.