Browning was unreasonable, anyhow, to ask it of me."

Rosa and grandpa stood hand in hand, watching the small procession until
it disappeared around the corner.

"Grandpa," queried Rosa in a tearful voice, "do you know where that
beautiful land is where folks never cough no more, and where they don't
have to pay rent? That's where mother's going, and she told me to find
out the way, so I could go too."

"'Pears like I'd ought to know, child, fer that's where Tom went. I
can't think much somehow, but, Rosa," he added tenderly, drawing her up
closer to his side, "I don't want you to go and leave me, fer I'm so
lonesome. Sary's a good woman, yes, a very good woman, but it seems like
I need you, too, dearie."

"Grandpa, if we'd start out together, don't you think we could find it?
Folks have all they want to eat there, and I'm hungry now."

"Why, yes, yes, mebbe we could! Some way I'm gittin' homesick. I don't
like it here in the city, and it seems like I used to know more about
that land than I do now. Since poor Tom got killed, I can't remember no
how.

"Sometimes in the night I git that happy, but if I make a little noise,
Sary wakes me up, 'cause it bothers her, then that spoils it all. I
think I'm back in the country ag'in, and the church bell is a-ringin' of
a Sunday mornin'. Tom's mother and me start out from the little cottage,
and I'm a-carryin' Tom. We walk down the cool grassy lane with the brook
a-runnin' on one side, and the trees is a-wavin' in the soft breeze, and