BY THE ROADSIDE


"It's time to go to work," said the little brown Dream.

"I'm not ready to go to work," said Marjorie, crossly, turning over and
snuggling her head more comfortably into her pillow.

The Dream said nothing. He only sat on the foot-board and swung his
feet.

By and by Marjorie turned over again,--and then again,--and then at last
she sat up, exclaiming angrily: "I wish you wouldn't bother me! I want
to go to sleep."

"Well," said the Dream, "how am I preventing you from sleeping?"

"You said it was time to go to work."

"That was half an hour ago," said the Dream. "I haven't spoken since."

"That doesn't make any difference," said Marjorie. "When you once say a
thing that I know is true, it stays with me, and you might as well keep
shouting it all the time as to have said it once;--I can't get away from
it."

"If it is true, why do you want to get away from it?" asked the Dream.

"Because--" Marjorie hesitated, "--because I'm sleepy," she said