'Can you see the church, Rosalie?' asked her mother hurriedly.

'Yes, mammie dear,' said Rosalie; 'it's just at the end of this street.
Such a pretty church, with trees all round it!'

'Are there any houses near it?' asked her mother.

'Only one, mammie dear, a big house in a garden; but I can't see it very
well, there are so many trees in front of it.'

'Ask Toby to put you down, Rosalie, and run and have a look at it as we
pass.'

So Rosalie was lifted down from the caravan, and ran up to the vicarage
gate, whilst her mother raised herself on her elbow to see as much as she
could through the open window. But she could only see the spire of the
church and the chimneys of the house, and she was too exhausted to get up.

Presently Rosalie overtook them, panting with her running. Toby never dared
to wait for her, lest his master should find fault with him for stopping;
but Rosalie often got down from the caravan, to gather wild flowers, or to
drink at a wayside spring, and, as she was very fleet of foot, she was
always able to overtake them.

'What was it like, Rosalie?' asked her mother, when she was seated on the
box beside her bed.

'Oh, ever so pretty, mammie dear; such soft grass and such lovely roses,
and a broad gravel walk all up to the door. And in the garden there was a
lady; such a pretty, kind-looking lady! and she and her little girl were