"It must be better’n heaven!" cried Lizzie, as she heard of work and play, health and happiness, love and companionship, usefulness and independence,--all the dear rights and simple joys young creatures hunger for, and perish, soul and body, without. It was too much for her little mind to grasp at once, and she lay as if in a blissful dream long after the kind visitor had gone, promising to come again and to find some way for Lizzie to enter into that lovely place where darkness is changed to light. That visit was like magic medicine, and the child grew better at once, for hope was born in her heart. The heavy gloom seemed to lift; discomforts were easier to bear; and solitude was peopled now with troops of happy children living in that wonderful place where blindness was not a burden. She told it all to her mother, and the poor woman tried to believe it, but said sadly,-- "Don’t set your heart on it, child. It’s easy to promise and to forget. Rich folks don’t trouble themselves about poor folks if they can help it." But Lizzie’s faith never wavered, though the roses faded as day after day went by and no one came. The mere thought that it was possible to teach blind people to work and study and play seemed to give her strength and courage. She got up and sat at the window again, singing to herself as she watched and waited, with the dead flowers carefully arranged in Billy’s mug, and a hopeful smile on the little white face behind the bars. Every one was glad she was better, and nodded to one another as they heard the soft crooning, like a dove’s coo, in the pauses of the harsher noises that filled the street. The workmen tossed her sweeties and whistled their gayest airs; the children brought their dilapidated toys to amuse her; and one woman came every day to put her baby in Lizzie’s lap, it was such a pleasure to her to feel the soft little body in the loving arms that longed for Billy. Poor mother went to her work in better spirits, and the long hot days were less oppressive as she thought, while she scrubbed, of Lizzie up again; for she loved her helpless burden, heavy though she found it. When Saturday came around, it rained hard, and no one expected "the flower lady." Even Lizzie said with a patient sigh and a hopeful smile,-- "I don’t believe she ’ll come; but maybe it will clear up, and then I guess she will." It did not clear up, but the flower lady came; and as the child sat listening to the welcome sound of her steps, her quick ear caught the tread of two pairs of feet, the whisper of two voices, and presently two persons came in to fill her hands with midsummer flowers.