nk she has but newly come."

"She has a face full of the morning," the poet said. It did the little
Pilgrim good to feel the touch of the warm, soft hand; and she was not
afraid, but lifted her eyes and spoke to the lady and to the poet. "It is
beautiful what you said to us. Sometimes in the old time we used to look
up to the beautiful skies and wonder what there was above the clouds; but
we never thought that up here in this great city you would be thinking of
what we were doing, and making beautiful poems all about us. We thought
that you would sing wonderful psalms, and talk of things high, high above
us."

"The little sister does not know what the meaning of the earth is," the
poet said. "It is but a little speck, but it is the centre of all. Let
her walk with us, and we will go home, and you will tell her, Ama, for I
love to hear you talk."

"Will you come with us?" the lady said.

And the little Pilgrim's heart leaped up in her, to think she was now
going to see a home in this wonderful city; and they went along, hand in
hand, and though they were three together, and many were coming and
going, there was no difficulty, for every one made way for them. And
there was a little murmur of pleasure as the poet passed, and those who
had heard his poem made obeisance to him, and thanked him, and thanked
the Father for him that he was able to show them so many beautiful
things. And they walked along the street which was shining with color,
and saw as they passed how the master painter had come to his work, and
was standing upon the balcony where the little Pilgrim had been, and
bringing out of the wall, under his hand, faces which were full of life,
and which seemed to spring forth as if they had been hidden there. "Let
us wait a little and see him working," the poet said; and all round about
the people stopped on their way, and there was a soft cry of pleasure and
praise all through the beautiful street. And the painter with whom the
little Pilgrim had talked before came, and stood behind her as if he had
been an old friend, and called out to her at every new touch to mark how
this and that was done. She did not understand as he did, but she saw how
beautiful it was, and she was glad to have seen the great painter, as she
had been glad to hear the great poet. It seemed to the little Pilgrim as
if everything happened well for her, and that no one had ever been so
blessed before. And to make it all more sweet, this new f