hammock made out of threads of sunshine. We sunbeams can weave one in
less than no time, and it is no trouble at all to swing a little mortal
like you way out into the clearness and the light, so that a bit of it
can make its way into your dark little soul, and make you not quite so
blind as you were."

"Why, I 'm not blind at all," said Marjorie, with a surprised pout. "I
can see as well as anything. Did you think I couldn't?"

"I _know_ you can't," replied the beam, calmly. "That is, you can't
see any farther than the outside part of things, and that is almost
worse than seeing none of them at all. But here we are nearing the
court of the king. Now don't expect to see _him_, for that is
impossible. He is altogether too radiant for you; your eyes could not
bear so much glory. It would be just as if you took one of your own
little moles or bats (creatures that are used to the dark) and put them
in the full glare of a noonday sun. The sun would be there, but they
could not see it, because their eyes would be too weak and dim. Even
yourself,--have n't you often tried to look the sun full in the face?
Yes; and you have had to give it up and turn your face away because it
hurt your eyes. Well, his Majesty only lets the world have a glimpse
of his glory. But here we are at our journey's end."

With these words Marjorie felt herself brought to a gentle halt, and
found herself in a place most wondrously clear and light and high, from
which she could look off,--far, far across and over and down to where
something that looked like a dim ball was whirling rapidly.

"That is your earth," whispered the sunbeam in her ear,--"the earth
that you have just left."