"It does not stand still," replied the voice; "but it is waiting,
nevertheless. If you are expecting a dear, dear person--your mother,
for instance--"

"I ain't got no mother," interrupted Larry, with a sorrowful sigh; "she
died."

"Well, then--your sister," suggested the voice.

"I ain't got no sister. I ain't got nobody. I 'm all by meself,"
insisted the boy.

"Then suppose, for years and years you have been dreaming of a friend
who is to fill your world with beauty as no one else could do,--who
among all others in the world will be the only one who could show you
how fair life is. While you would not stand still and do nothing what
time you were watching for her coming, you would be always waiting for
her, and when she was there you would be glad. That is how the world
feels about its geniuses,--those whom it needs to make it more
wonderful and great. It is waiting for you. Don't disappoint it. It
would make you sad unto death if the friend of whom you had dreamed
should not come at last, would it not?"

Larry nodded his head in assent. "Does it always know 'em?" he asked.
"I mean does the world always be sure when the person comes, it 's the
one it dreamed of? Mebbe I'd be dreamin' of some one who was
beautiful, and mebbe the real one would n't look like what I thought,
and I 'd let her go by."

"Ah, little Lawrence, the world has failed so too. It has let its