"I'll take it fer you, Rosa, if you say so, but I don't think we'll need it. 'Pears like the man said somethin' about their not gittin' hungry no more, nor thirsty." "But then mebbe we'll want it on the way." "All right, all right, Rosa, but are you 'most ready? Seems like I can't wait." "Yes, I'm ready now, but I'm so 'fraid you'll be cold, grandpa, dear." "No, no, child, we'll soon git there." The two children trudged down the three long flights of steps, the younger leading the older lest he should trip and fall. The morning was dreary, with a cold wind blowing and with snow flakes scurrying through the air. Both being insufficiently clad, they were shivering before having gone a block. "'Tis mighty cold, ain't it, dearie? I had no idee about it; but then we won't mind, jest so we git there." "Yes, grandpa, but I hope it won't take us long, for the wind blows so awful hard. It used to make mother cough to be out in a wind like this. "The big black carriage that came after her, went 'round this corner, so we'll go this way too. I'm sure nobody on Burton street knows the way anyhow. I'd think they would, though, when the fare's all paid; but p'rhaps they've never been told about it. "When we see a pretty lady dressed fine, we'll ask her, for I guess she'd know; but then it's for poor folks, too. "I wonder why nobody ever told me about Jesus before? I'll be so glad when I see Him." Tenderly clasping each other by the hand, they walked for blocks, meeting hundreds of people, though none of them appealed to Rosa's fancy. She was looking for a beautiful girl with blue eyes and a blue suit, who would look down upon her with a smile. A feeling of uncertainty was beginning to depress her, but to grandpa she continued to talk hopefully. At last realizing that he was becoming very tired, she determined to wait no longer before inquiring the way. Singling out of the jostling crowd a well-dressed woman with a fur cloak, which Rosa thought looked so warm, she stepped up to her, and said: "Please, ma'am, grandpa and me want to go to the beautiful land where folks don't cough no more. Mother's gone, and Jesus paid all the fare, and it don't cost nothing to live there, neither. Won't you please tell us the way?" "What a very singular question!" was the unfeeling reply, the haughty face relaxing not at all as the woman passed on. "I think she didn't understand, grandpa," said the disappointed child, "but I'll try again. There's a lady dressed in blue. I'm pretty sure she'll know." In a tremulous voice the question was repeated. "Why, you queer little girl! Are you talking about heaven?" "I don't know, ma'am, only it's where Jesus has paid the fare, and where there ain't no rent days to come 'round." "Really, I scarcely know what to say, only you and this poor old man ought not to be out on this cold day." "We thought we'd soon be there, ma'am, but 'tis dreadful cold," she replied, her slight frame shivering violently from head to foot.