"How wonderfully has the Lord's hand been guiding since first I saw Rosa that cold December day; and the end is not yet!"
For several minutes the little company sat in silence, each one buried in thoughts too deep and sacred to find expression in words.
Presently Rosa lifted her head from the doctor's shoulder, her lustrous eyes becoming more luminous than ever, as she said:
"Oh, how glad I am that I have found the way to the beautiful land! Mother's there, and don't cough no more. Grandpa's there, and we're all going some day, 'cause Jesus paid the fare a long time ago!"
AFTERWORD.
One bitterly cold December day, while riding in a streetcar in a large city, a frail-looking little girl, bending beneath the weight of a huge package, entered the car, sitting directly in front of me. She was thinly, though neatly, clad. Her pale face was overshadowed by an expression of care far too old for her baby shoulders, while her eyes were large, dark, and pathetically wistful.
There was something irresistible about her whole appearance, impelling me to cross the aisle and sit down by her side.
She told me that her name was Rosa, and the conversation which followed, suggested the story, "Rosa's Quest."
I asked her if she knew anything about Jesus. To this she replied: