enses could believe it!"

Pelle was discomfited. At last he said falteringly, "I have told the
truth. I did see that face in my spectacles, but I don't see anything
now. It has happened to me many times in church on Sunday morning. I
am sure I could do it where I sit in the church."

"Why not let him try it in the church?" said the colonel. "I am sure
the pastor would give his permission."

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