Rosas Quest | Page 3

to get
some steak, and she will broil it for mother's supper. Ain't that nice? I'd
think I'd be happy, but I ain't a bit. I keep wondering what she meant
about mother going away, and she didn't know what would become of
me. Why, lady, mother just can't move now; she's sick and has a
dreadful cough! She hasn't even been in to see grandpa and Mis' Gray
for a long time. Then I know, anyhow, she'd never go and leave me. Of
course she wouldn't, for we're always together. She couldn't get along
without me, 'cause I take care of her, and I know I couldn't get along
without her at all. Mis' Gray ought to know that, for we've lived by her
a long time. What do you 'spose she meant? I can't think about anything
else."
"Why, my little girl," replied the stranger, while Rosa was more
mystified than ever to see the blue eyes fill with tears, "sometimes
when people are sick, they go to a better country than this. Do you
know about heaven?"
"Not much, ma'am. When Mis' Gray goes away and mother's working,
grandpa gets his old violin and sings to me about the beautiful land. He
says that's heaven, but he can't explain it much to me. He says he can't
think right since Tom got killed. You know Tom was his boy. Grandpa
is so good. When mother moves, I know she will take me, and I wish
he could go too. But, lady, do you 'spose that's the place where mother's
going?"
"I hope so, dear, for she would not cough any more there."
"Oh, wouldn't she? I'll tell her about it, then. But how much is the fare?
We're poor, you know."
"You do not have to pay any fare to go to that beautiful land, because
Jesus paid it all long ago."
"Oh, how kind! He must be so good. Last night I wakened, and mother

kissed me and said that Jesus surely would take care of me. Are you
real sure He paid the fare for everybody?"
"Yes, I know it, for God so loved the world that He gave His only
begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but
have everlasting life."
"Ain't that pretty! But where do you start from to get there?"
"Your mother could go right from your home."
"But she just ain't able to go any place; she can't sit up much now. I'll
tell her about it, though, then when she's better, we'll both go. Does it
take long to get there?"
"No, not so very."
"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