"I wish we'd known it before it got so cold. It might make her cough worse to go out now. Are there many people in this land?" "Yes, a great many." "Are there more going?" "Yes, they are going all the time." "Do people here in the city know about it?" "Yes." "Then why didn't somebody tell me before mother got so sick? I just can't bear to see her suffer so, and we might be there now. I'm afraid it will be a long time before she's well enough to start. Oh, if I'd only known! I'd think somebody should have told me. "Do folks have enough to eat there? Sometimes since mother's not been able to work much, we get so awful hungry." "They have everything they want, and never get hungry." "Everything they want, and never get hungry?" "Yes." "And is it cold there?" "No." "Do they have to pay rent?" "No, for Jesus has paid for everything." "Oh, oh! won't it be nice? How glad mother will be when I tell her, for it has been so hard for us to get along this winter. The rent is due next Monday, and we have nothing to pay it with, but if mother is just well enough to go, it won't make no difference. But the very best part of all, she won't be coughing any more! "Oh!" half screamed Rosa, "I forgot to get off, and have gone a whole block past Lake Avenue. What would Mis' Gray say to me?" Without another word she was gone, for already the car was beginning to move on. Scarcely realizing what she did, she ran after it for a short distance. With a great pang, she remembered that the girl had not told her the way to the beautiful land, where mother might go and never cough any more. Half stunned by bewilderment and disappointment, and with her heart heavier than before, she delivered her package, purchased the steak, and in due time was again at the sufferer's bedside. [Illustration] II. ESTHER'S PERPLEXITY. The day was gradually fading into darkness. Esther Fairfax, with sadness upon her usually sunshiny face, was sitting before her cheery open fire, fruitlessly endeavoring to become interested in her newly-purchased book. Her room was by no means elegantly furnished, but every article it contained, from the rugs upon the floor to the pictures upon the wall, reflected the refinement and culture of the fair young occupant. Presently, closing her book and tossing it carelessly from her hand, she settled back upon her couch for good solid meditation, while tears gathered in her deep blue eyes, chasing each other in rapid succession down her flushed cheeks. For some time she lived over the events of the afternoon, recalling minutely the details of the unusual conversation with the untaught but interesting child. "Oh," she thought, "I shall never forget those words, 'How much is the fare? We're poor you know.' If only I knew where she lives, that I might go and see her and minister to the comforts of the dying mother! The hungry wistfulness of those eyes seems burned into my very soul.