And now Rosalie must leave her kind friends, which she did with many grateful thanks. But before she said goodbye, she whispered a few words in the woman's ear.
To which she made answer, 'Yes, child; this very night I will;' and gave
Rosalie a warm, loving kiss on her forehead.
Then the little girl went down the caravan steps, and turned into the neighbouring street. The Good Shepherd who had helped her so wonderfully as far as this would never leave her now. This was her one comfort. Yet she could not help feeling very lonely as she went down the street, and peeped in at the windows as she passed by. In nearly every house a bright fire was burning, and tea was ready on the table; in some, a happy family party was just sitting down to their evening meal; in all, there was an air of comfort and rest.
And Rosalie, little motherless Rosalie, was out in the cold, muddy, damp street alone, out in the darkness and the rain, and five miles from her Aunt Lucy's house! How could she ever walk so far, that cold, dark night? She trembled as she thought of going alone down those lonely country roads, without a light, without a friend to take care of her. And yet she would be still more afraid to wander about the streets of this great town, where she was sure there was so much wickedness and sin.
Even now there were very few people passing down the street, and Rosalie began to feel very much afraid of being out alone. She must find some one at once to show her the way to Melton.
The child was passing a small neat row of houses built close upon the street. Most of them were shut up for the night, but through the cracks of the shutters Rosalie could see the bright light within.
But the last house in the row was not yet shut up, and as Rosalie came near to it, she saw a childish figure come out of the door and go up to the shutters to close them. The fasteners of the shutters had caught in the hook on the wall, and the little thing was too short to unloose it. She was standing on tiptoe, trying to undo it, when Rosalie came up.
'Let me help you,' she said, running up and unfastening the shutter.
'I'm extremely obliged to you,' said a voice behind her which made Rosalie start.
It was no child's voice; it was a voice she knew well, a voice she had often longed to hear. It was little Mother Manikin's voice!