"I must say it very soft to be respeck'ful. It's the Lord Jesus Christ, Tom. I learnt the text, 'I am the Door,' He said, 'by Me, if any man enter in, he shall be saved.' You've got to shut your eyes and hold your arms out, and say very soft: 'Take me through, Jesus, I come to You, and I ask You to take me through!' I did it in bed a few nights ago. I stood right up in bed and did it. And I feel—I feel I'm through!"
Tom gazed at her in silence.
"You get through to-night, Tom. I'm sure Jesus will let you through; He says 'any man,' you see, and I wasn't a man at all, and yet I feel I'm through. You're the proper sort he wants."
Tom turned round.
"Good arternoon, missy—I'll read your po'try, I promise you!"
Harebell looked after his retreating figure wistfully.
"I've muddled it all up, Chris—and I'm sure God can help him better than my spell."
She did not know that her words, "You're the proper sort he wants," rang in poor Tom's ears all that day and night.
"Harebell," said her aunt that same evening, when she was sitting by her side hemming a towel, "I hear you have been seen talking to a man called Tom Triggs, a rough bad man. I shall not be able to let you ride about alone, if you pick up undesirable acquaintances. What possessed you to speak to such a man at all?"
"Oh, Aunt Diana, I'm getting so fond of him! He is so nice to me—and we talk about such interesting things—cottages, and wives, and work, and beer—and even the Kingdom's Door!"