"Ain't He a wonderful Saviour?" said Mrs. Gray, brightening up. "I can't see how 'tis, but I love them all over there on Burton street now, and I used to be that ugly they're all afraid of me, I know. Seems like I can hardly wait till mornin', I'm that anxious to git back to tell them all about it. They're all so poor, and have sech heavy loads. They need Him bad to help them, but they don't know He's promised to. And Billy Bruce, the poor laddie, I want to tell him how sorry I am fer a-tryin' to throw that piece of coal at him. His ma's drunk most of the time, and so's his pa. He used to come to me fer somethin' to eat, and I wouldn't give him a thing, but jest scold him and tell him to git out of the way, fer I didn't feed beggars. He ain't never had no chance yet, and I'm jest a-goin' to see what I can do fer him. He's got a good heart, and once he told me I'd never lick Rosa if he wuz only a little bigger. He'll run when he see me a-comin', but I'll put some peppermints in my pocket, and mebbe they'd help catch him." "Oh, Mrs. Gray," said Esther, "I am so glad that you are going to help Billy. I saw him the other day, and feel sure that you can bring him around all right. I shall come over often to assist you, and I know that many will find the same dear Friend in whom you are rejoicing tonight. "How wonderfully has the Lord's hand been guiding since first I saw Rosa that cold December day; and the end is not yet!" For several minutes the little company sat in silence, each one buried in thoughts too deep and sacred to find expression in words. Presently Rosa lifted her head from the doctor's shoulder, her lustrous eyes becoming more luminous than ever, as she said: "Oh, how glad I am that I have found the way to the beautiful land! Mother's there, and don't cough no more. Grandpa's there, and we're all going some day, 'cause Jesus paid the fare a long time ago!" AFTERWORD. One bitterly cold December day, while riding in a streetcar in a large city, a frail-looking little girl, bending beneath the weight of a huge package, entered the car, sitting directly in front of me. She was thinly, though neatly, clad. Her pale face was overshadowed by an expression of care far too old for her baby shoulders, while her eyes were large, dark, and pathetically wistful. There was something irresistible about her whole appearance, impelling me to cross the aisle and sit down by her side. She told me that her name was Rosa, and the conversation which followed, suggested the story, "ROSA'S QUEST." I asked her if she knew anything about Jesus. To this she replied: "Not much, ma'am, but it seems like I've heard just a little." Of heaven and the way of salvation she was as ignorant as a child in the wilds of Africa. The sad expression of her face did not alter till I quoted John 3:16, then looking up with a smile she said: "Ain't that pretty?"