'Who lives inside the big white gates up that road, father?'
'I don't know, my boy. I don't know this part of the country.'
'How far are we from home?' asked True.
'About twenty miles.'
The children sighed simultaneously. Then True said:
'We'll never get there, Bobby.'
'P'raps we shall pass some other white gates nearer home,' he suggested.
'Why do you want them?' asked their father.
Bobby laid his hand on his coat sleeve impressively.
'They're so like the gates into heaven, father.'