"What was he reading about, grandpa?"
"Dunno as I can tell you, child, only somethin' about a river, and a tree by it, and fruit, and the folks don't git sick no more, and—well, I can't tell you, Rosa, but hurry up, let's start! When we git there, we'll know all about it then."
"Here, grandpa, put this bread in your pocket, please. P'rhaps we'll need it."
"I'll take it fer you, Rosa, if you say so, but I don't think we'll need it. 'Pears like the man said somethin' about their not gittin' hungry no more, nor thirsty."
"But then mebbe we'll want it on the way."
"All right, all right, Rosa, but are you 'most ready? Seems like I can't wait."
"Yes, I'm ready now, but I'm so 'fraid you'll be cold, grandpa, dear."
"No, no, child, we'll soon git there."
The two children trudged down the three long flights of steps, the younger leading the older lest he should trip and fall.
The morning was dreary, with a cold wind blowing and with snow flakes scurrying through the air. Both being insufficiently clad, they were shivering before having gone a block.