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."