"Do you like that picture?" asked the Vicar.
"Ever so much," responded Harebell. "I'm so interested about the Door. But I do think some people want a push in. Tom does. He seems as if he can't go in of his own accord—"
"Who is Tom?"
"He's a great friend of mine, who has drunk too much beer, but now he's ill in hospital, and I'm trying to find a cottage and a wife for him; only Aunt Diana says I'm never to speak to him again."
She sighed, then she shook her head with vigour. "But talking is no good. I'm sure he wants a push!"
Then, upon encouragement from the Vicar, she plunged into the story of Tom Triggs. He was interested.
"Tell him he has only one step to take; but it is a step down, and he must bend his head, or he will never get through. A good many are too proud to bend, and so they remain outside."
"But I mustn't talk to him," said Harebell miserably.
"Perhaps your aunt would let you write him a letter."
"Oh, that's a lovely thought! I'll write directly I get back. Can't we go now?"