some one who will love to have them; and, besides, they will make me
happier, as I go along," and she buried her face in the pink petals.

After a time they came to where a little brook wandered across the road.
There had been stepping-stones, but some thoughtless youngsters had
taken them to one side and built a dam, which caused the water to back
up until the way was impassable, if one would cross dry-shod.

Marjorie stood and looked for a moment, and then turned toward the fence
where she saw that others had crossed by clinging to the boards. Then
she stopped, and laying her roses in the shadow of a clump of bushes,
she went to the little dam and began to loosen the stones. They proved
to be heavy and slippery, and well embedded in the mud; but she managed,
at the expense of wet feet and clothing, to dislodge them at last;--and
then came the task of carrying them to where the other stepping-stones
were. One she carried, and dropped it into exactly the right place, and
then another, and was just returning for a third, when she saw a boy
coming along the road. When she saw him, she hurried more eagerly, and
was just lifting a very large stone when he came forward, timidly, but
with outstretched hands. "Let me help you," he said.

But Marjorie half turned her back, with the heavy stone. "No, no!" she
said. "I can do it myself."

"I would like to help you," the boy persisted. "I could make it much
easier for you."

"No," said Marjorie, "I don't need you. Please let me pass."

The boy stepped aside with a little sigh. "No one wants me to help," he