“Once upon a time there was a great city, and in the lower part of it there were narrow streets, with ragged children playing in the gutters, and loafers standing on the corners. If there ever had been hope in their hearts it had long since fled. And many of the mothers were shut in shops where they toiled all day and earned very little, that they might feed their children.
“The sun never seemed to shine in the lower part of that great city. The fog hung gray and dismal, and there was constantly the sharp clanging noise of traffic. The children in the gutter did not seem to mind, for they knew no different, but one day an artist was forced, through poverty, to move to this lower end of the city, and with him was his little daughter, Alicia. Her startled blue eyes looked about, and she clung to her father’s hand as they wended their way down one of the narrow streets.
“‘Must we live here, father?’ she asked, and the artist sadly bowed his head.
“Alicia tried to make the barren room in the tenement look as home-like as possible, but she dreaded going to the corner store to buy even the few provisions that were needed.
“She shrank from touching the raggedly dressed children, who, attracted by her golden hair, would leave their play when she passed and whisper, ‘Pretty! Pretty!’
“But Alicia paid no heed. Her one thought was how sorry she was for herself. If only she could live again in that lovely home which they had lost.
“All of her life she had lived in a beautiful garden, where high ivy-covered walls had sheltered her from the winds, where a fountain had sparkled for her, and where the birds had sung to her. But now,—The sensitive child looked about her and shuddered.
“One day her father brought her a book, and while she was alone she read the stories it contained, and one of them was called ‘The King’s Highway.’ Alicia fell to daydreaming, as was her wont, and she thought how wonderful it would be, this King’s Highway. There would be castles on either side, and the pavement would be of gold. Gorgeous carriages, drawn by milk-white horses, would be passing up and down, and in them would be princesses and noble ladies, richly dressed, and they would have pages with plumed hats to attend them. As she thought of all this, and wished that she might be on the King’s Highway, she fell asleep and dreamed, and in her dream an angel came to her and said, ‘Alicia, the King is your Heavenly Father, and to-day you are living on the King’s Highway.’
“Alicia, awakening, sprang up, and, seeing that it was late, she went out to do her marketing. The fog had not lifted all day. The children on the curb seemed weary and tired of their play. Many of their faces looked pinched, as though they did not have enough to eat. ‘And so this is the King’s Highway,’ Alicia thought, ‘and these are the King’s children.’ And then the angel that was always with Alicia whispered, ‘And what are you doing on the King’s Highway?’
“‘Nothing,’ Alicia replied, ‘only to be sorry for myself because I am there.’