help me," she said softly, "when I had been so unkind to you."

"It was my work, too," said the little girl, "and I was glad to do
it;--and you were busy when I called to you."

"I was selfish," said Marjorie; "but I am sorry. Mayn't I help you to
fix your dress? I have pins, and it is hard for you to walk with it that
way; for you tread on it at every step, unless you carry the torn part."

And so, together, they pinned up the torn skirt; and then, with a loving
hand-clasp, the little girl went away up one road, and Marjorie and the
Dream turned to follow the other.

"I wish that she was going my way," said Marjorie, at last. "She is so
kind, and she didn't keep complaining and talking about how hard it was
to do her work, and how much she would rather do something else; and how
much pleasanter this road looks than the one she had to take; but she
was just loving and sunshiny and helpful."

And now they came to a place where there was a clump of wild roses
growing by the wayside, and Marjorie stopped and began to gather some.

"The thorns are troublesome, aren't they?" asked the Dream, presently.

"Yes," said Marjorie, "but these are only little scratches, and I don't
mind."

"But why are you gathering the roses?"

"Because there is nothing else to do just here, and I shall soon find