and unjust. He could not understand why some should travel in
luxurious ease while others could hardly get along, their burdens
were so great; why some rode in carriages, and others, sick and
hungry and tired and cold, could never stop lest they die upon the
road; and why some sang and others wept.

"In groups and pairs, and sometimes one by one, they passed him, and
as they went by he would look into their faces to see why they were
traveling; but, like him, they did not know, they only knew they must
keep on. And then one day he saw he had come back to where his
journey had begun. He had been on the road to Nowhere--the road that
wound round and round."

"Just like travelers in the desert." Dorothea's eyes made effort to
open, but sleepily they closed again. "Why didn't he ask somebody
the way?"

"He didn't think any one knew. He was much wiser than most of the
people who passed him. To many who seemed to be in need he had given
money; he was very generous, very kind, and he gave freely; but he
always turned his head away when he gave. He did not like to see
suffering and sorrow; and with sin of certain sorts he had no
sympathy, and so he would not look. But after a while he had to look.

"He was standing at the place from which he had started, and, to his
surprise, he saw what he had never seen before. Out from its center
led all sorts of roads that stretched beyond sight, and on each of
them people were traveling, all kinds of people, and he knew he could
no longer stand still. He must take one of these roads, but which
one he did not know. As he stood uncertain what to do, he felt some