"There, you see," said Nan triumphantly, "it is quite easy! I told you any clergyman would look after us. And we found one easily."
An elderly servant came into the room a few minutes later, and supplied them with glasses of milk and some cake, which she said her master had ordered for them.
Harebell began to enjoy herself.
"I do love seeing strange rooms and people," she said. "We're having a jolly time, aren't we, Nan? Of course, there's poor Chris, but I'm quite sure he'll go straight home. He's too sensible to lose himself."
"Perhaps a gipsy will steal him on the way," said Nan. "You see, he is sure to be stopped by some one. Horses don't take walks by themselves with saddles on."
Harebell's spirits fell. This was a new fear. When the Vicar returned she looked up at him anxiously.
"It's all right," he said cheerfully; "I've wired to your father to tell him that you're safe with me. And in half an hour, a farmer will call here and take you home in his cart. He is passing through your village to see a sick brother of his there. But it will be a long drive. I must lend you some wraps, for the evenings are still chilly."
"I'm afraid mother will be vexed with us," said Nan with a long face.
Harebell seemed in a dream. Her eyes and attention were riveted on a picture hanging up.
There was an Eastern shepherd standing at the entrance to a sheepfold. His flock were coming in for the night, and he was holding out his arms. They were passing in under them. The picture was called "I am the door."