The Conversion of St Wilfrid They had bought peppermints up at the village, and were coming home past little St Barnabas’ Church, when they saw Jimmy Kidbrooke, the carpenter’s baby, kicking at the churchyard gate, with a shaving in his mouth and the tears running down his cheeks. Una pulled out the shaving and put in a peppermint. Jimmy said he was looking for his grand-daddy--he never seemed to take much notice of his father--so they went up between the old graves, under the leaf-dropping limes, to the porch, where Jim trotted in, looked about the empty Church, and screamed like a gate-hinge. Young Sam Kidbrooke’s voice came from the bell-tower and made them jump. ‘Why, jimmy,’ he called, ‘what are you doin’ here? Fetch him, Father!’ Old Mr Kidbrooke stumped downstairs, jerked Jimmy on to his shoulder, stared at the children beneath his brass spectacles, and stumped back again. They laughed: it was so exactly like Mr Kidbrooke. ‘It’s all right,’ Una called up the stairs. ‘We found him, Sam. Does his mother know?’ ‘He’s come off by himself. She’ll be justabout crazy,’ Sam answered. ‘Then I’ll run down street and tell her.’ Una darted off. ‘Thank you, Miss Una. Would you like to see how we’re mendin’ the bell-beams, Mus’ Dan?’ Dan hopped up, and saw young Sam lying on his stomach in a most delightful place among beams and ropes, close to the five great bells. Old Mr Kidbrooke on the floor beneath was planing a piece of wood, and Jimmy was eating the shavings as fast as they came away. He never looked at Jimmy; Jimmy never stopped eating; and the broad gilt-bobbed pendulum of the church clock never stopped swinging across the white-washed wall of the tower. Dan winked through the sawdust that fell on his upturned face. ‘Ring a bell,’ he called. ‘I mustn’t do that, but I’ll buzz one of ‘em a bit for you,’ said Sam. He pounded on the sound-bow of the biggest bell, and waked a hollow groaning boom that ran up and down the tower like creepy feelings down your back. Just when it almost began to hurt, it died away in a hurry of beautiful sorrowful cries, like a wine-glass rubbed with a wet finger. The pendulum clanked--one loud clank to each silent swing. Dan heard Una return from Mrs Kidbrooke’s, and ran down to fetch her. She was standing by the font staring at some one who kneeled at the Altar-rail. ‘Is that the Lady who practises the organ?’ she whispered. ‘No. She’s gone into the organ-place. Besides, she wears black,’ Dan replied. The figure rose and came down the nave. It was a white-haired man in a long white gown with a sort of scarf looped low on the neck, one end hanging over his shoulder. His loose long sleeves were embroidered with gold, and a deep strip of gold embroidery waved and sparkled round the hem of his gown. ‘Go and meet him,’ said Puck’s voice behind the font. ‘It’s only Wilfrid.’ ‘Wilfrid who?’ said Dan. ‘You come along too.’