Toward morning grandpa grew more quiet.  The little watcher dropped her head upon his pillow and fell asleep, dreaming that mother was holding her in her arms, softly singing as of yore.

[Illustration]

VI.

THE WAY FOUND

It was late before they awakened the next morning.  Rosa, though not much rested herself, was delighted to see grandpa apparently so well.  She could not remember ever before having seen him step so lightly around the room.  His eyes were shining, and every few minutes he would sing snatches of his one song, while assisting her in the preparation of their light breakfast.

“We’re a-goin’ to find it today, Rosa, I’m mighty sure, yes, mighty sure of that; and I’m so glad.”

“I hope so, grandpa dear.”

“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.