ar."

"Yes, we are, fer he said so."

"Who said so?"

"Why, Tom. Don't you remember? We seen him last night, Rosa. Surely you
ain't fergot.

"We wuz a-crossin' the pretty brook on the bridge under the willers,
when all to once Tom come a-runnin' up, and wuz so glad to see us. Jest
then the bell on the little white meetin' house with the steeple
a-p'intin' straight up begun a-ringin', and it sounded better'n music.
Oh, it wuz so mighty sweet, Rosa! I can 'most hear it now. And when we
got there, the people was a-singin' about the beautiful land. Everybody
wuz so happy, 'cause the fare wuz paid and they all know'd the way. Tom
he says, 'Don't be dis'p'inted no more, father, 'cause you're a goin' to
git there, and no mistake!'

"Now, Rosa dear," he continued, while walking rapidly back and forth
across the room, "let's git ready and start right off, and not lose no
more time.

"We're goin' to the big meetin' house today, didn't you say?"

"Yes, grandpa, the one the p'liceman showed us, you know."

"'Pears like we'd ought to fix up a little bit then. My shoes look most
mighty bad, don't they? It might worry Tom some. I don't like to have
him find out how poor I've been, but then it won't make no difference
after we git there.

"Say, do you think Sary would miss it, if I'd take some of her stove
polish and black 'em up a little?"

"Oh, I don't believe she would."

"Then I'll take jest a tiny bit, not that she'd care, fer Sary's a good
woman, yes, a very good woman, but mighty partic'lar about her
blackin'."

Rosa patiently assisted in the process, but it would have been difficult
for the aesthetic eye to have discovered the improvement. Grandpa was
satisfied, and that was enough.

"I don't want you to get cold like you did yesterday, grandpa. The
wind's blowing hard. Wish you had more to put 'round you."

"Well, I ain't got it, dearie, but I don't mind, fer we're a-goin' to
git there today. Tom'll look after me then."

"Here, you take this: it'll help a little," and she slipped from her own
neck a well-worn muffler formerly belonging to her mother. She carefully
pinned together his thin shabby coat, for the buttons long since were
gone, and wrapped the muffler about his neck and face.

Her own clothing, since mother moved, had grown threadbare and ragged,
forming but little protection against the cold, cutting winds.

Their hearts, notwithstanding all outward difficulties and the
disappointments of the