“Can’t you tell us?  We want to go so awful bad.  I should think you could, since it’s for everybody.”

“It is too cold and crowded to stand here and talk, child.  Do you go to Sunday school?”

“No, ma’am; what is Sunday school?”

“You poor little heathen!  Don’t you know what Sunday schools are?  They have them in all the churches.  Find one and go tomorrow.  They will tell you what you want better than I can.

“Take this quarter and get something to eat, then go back home.  You will meet no one on the street to help you.”

Having thus somewhat eased her conscience, this church-member of many years went on to complete her shopping.  However, things did not go well the rest of the day.  The wan face, the sad brown eyes and the pathetic earnestness of the little questioner were constantly before her.

Stopping to see the church treasurer on her way home, she left a check for fifty dollars to be used in city mission work, feeling confident that at last her responsibility in the case was at an end.

It was nearing the noon hour, and Rosa was hungry.

“I think instead of eating that dry bread in your pocket, grandpa, that we’ll get some warm sandwiches.  You wait:  I can get them in here, ’cause I was in one time before with mother.”

Very soon she returned, bringing with her their feast.

“Let’s go down this alley and sit on that box.  I guess the p’licemen won’t care.”

“All right, dearie, but it’s a mighty long ways to the beautiful land, ain’t it?  I thought we’d surely be there by now, and I’m gittin’ so tired and cold.  I think if Tom knew we’d started, he’d come and meet us.”

While they were eating, Rosa was frightened to hear suddenly the abrupt question in a gruff voice, “What are you doing here?” and before her terrified eyes loomed a great policeman.

She, like most children of her class, feared instinctively these city protectors, and would have run, had it have not been for grandpa.

“Oh,” she replied, with as much dignity and composure as possible, “we are going to the beautiful land, and are just eating our sandwiches.  It don’t cost nothing to go, ’cause God so loved the world and Jesus paid all the fare.  Mother’s gone, and folks don’t cough no more there.  You don’t have to pay rent, and can have everything you want, too.”

So astonished was the policeman at this unexpected reply that he forgot to order them away.

“Well, I never!” at last he ejaculated, being unable to think of anything more appropriate for the occasion.  “But let me tell you, little girl, you and that old man want to turn in wherever you came from before dark, or you’ll be more likely to go to the police station than to this beautiful land you’re talking about.”

So saying, he started off upon his beat.

The mere thought of spending the night at the police station so thoroughly terrorized Rosa that her heart for the instant almost stood still.