'If we are of one mind it will be easy,' she said.

And her husband replied:

'Your mind and will rule this household, darling. I shall leave my boy's training to you.'

Chapter VIII

A LETTER FROM ABROAD.

'They look like the gates in the City.'

Bobby and True were lying upon the gra.s.s under a shady group of trees.

They had been out motoring with their father all the morning, and had stopped to have their lunch up a by-road. They had had a merry meal, and then after it was over Mr. Allonby told them they had better stay where they were whilst he took his motor back to the neighbouring village to get some slight repairs done to it.

'It is very warm, so stay here quietly, and don't wander far from this place, or I shall not find you again.'

He went. For a short time they amused themselves quietly by the roadside. Then they thought they would like to see where the road took them, and walked up it until suddenly they were stopped by some very tall white iron gates. They peeped through the bars of them. There was a small lodge inside, but there seemed no one about. A long, broad, beautifully-kept drive went straight up to a white, turreted house in the distance. It looked almost like a castle. They tried to open the gates, but they were locked. Then they threw themselves down upon the gra.s.s outside, and Bobby thoughtfully said, as he eyed the gates in front of them:

'They look like the gates in the City.'

'What city?' asked True.

'It's a Bible city. Do you know about the gates kept by angels? They lead up to heaven, and the road is just like that in there, only there are people walking up them in white dresses. We shall have to get frough them some day.

'It'll be very nice,' said True comfortably.

Bobby looked at her, and his mouth pursed itself up gravely.

'Everybodies don't get frough. Some are shut outside.'

'Oh! Why?'

'Because they haven't white dresses on. My grandmother has a beautiful Bible with beautiful picshers in it, and the picsher of the lovely gates says: "Blessed are they that wash their robes in the blood of the Lamb, that they may have right to the tree of life, and enter in frough the gates into the City." I learnt that tex'. Lady Isobel teached it to me.'

'What's the tree of life?' asked True.

Bobby pointed inside the gate to a big beech-tree halfway up the drive.

'It's like that, but it has lovely golden apples on it. And the angels stand at the gate, and won't let n.o.body frough with a dirty dress.'

True glanced at her brown holland frock, which was smeared with green.

'My frocks never keep clean after half an hour,' she said with a little sigh.

'You have to get a nice white frock from Jesus,' went on Bobby, pleased with his role as teacher.

'He washes your dirty one in His blood. You know, when He died on the cross, that's how He shed His blood. And it turns all dirty things white and clean. Lady Is'bel teached me it did.'

'I don't believe Jesus Christ really washes frocks,' said True. 'I've never heard He does. It would be--be like a washerwoman.'

Bobby leant across to her eagerly.

'You don't un'stand prop'ly. It's a inside white frock over our hearts. n.o.body sees it but Jesus and the angels at the gate--and G.o.d.

Our hearts are quite dirty and black till we ask Jesus to wash them and put the white dress on. Why, I had mine done long ago--d'reckly I heard 'bout it. You ought to have yours. You'll never get inside the gates if you don't, and it would be quite dre'fful to be shut out.

'When is it?' asked True, deliberating.

'When is what?'

'The gates being opened.'

'I think it's when you die, you want to get frough,' said Bobby.

'Then I can wait till I die!' said True.

'What a silly girl you are!'

Bobby's tone was almost contemptuous.

'I'm not silly.'

'Yes you are. Fancy waiting when you can have it now. Why, you might die in a hurry, and then Jesus might be doing something else, and mightn't come to you in time. I'm all ready now. The tex' says I've a _right_ to go in at the gates _now_, if I wanted to.'

He stopped talking, for up the lane came a carriage, and it stopped at the gates.

Both the children sprang to their feet. They saw a woman in a white ap.r.o.n hurry out from the lodge and open the gate; they saw the carriage pa.s.s through and the gates close again. Then Bobby spoke very solemnly:

'Did you see who was in the carriage? A lady in a _white_ dress, and she had a _right_ to pa.s.s frough.'

'You are a funny boy,' said True with a little laugh. 'She belonged to the house, and she's just going home.'

'Well,' argued Bobby, 'I belong to the golden City, and I shall have a right to go in--the tex' says so; and I shall be going home; because you know, True, G.o.d is my other Father, and G.o.d lives at home in heaven.'

There was silence, then True said:

'We had better go back to dad. I'll ask mother next Sunday about those gates, and see if you've told me true. She always talks good to me on Sunday afternoon.'

Bobby turned away from the white gates with reluctance.

'Would it be wicked to play at going in at those gates?' he asked. 'We might come another day by ourselves and try to get in.'

'So we will,' said True. 'It couldn't be wicked if we play what's in the Bible, because everything is good there.'

They returned to the spot where Mr. Allonby had arranged to meet them.

He was just appearing along the road, and when they were tucked safely in the car again Bobby said: