smile or look cross or hurt, just as if the queer things were pulling strings attached to their mouths and their eyes and their hearts."
"What did the things look like?" asked the Dream.
"Why, I don't know how to describe them," said Marjorie; "but they were little and of all sorts of different shapes. Some were beautiful, and some had sharp edges and corners, or even things like spear-heads sticking out of them,—of course those hurt when they went into people's ears. And some were soft and fluffy and looked like caresses; and some were hard like stones; and some were all puckered up, as if they were bitter; and some had strings to them; and some were hollow; and some were strong and firm and fine; and some were weak and whimpery sort of things that I could hear whine as they passed me; and some seemed very important; and some were just loving and tender."
"But what were they?" asked the Dream again.
"Well, I didn't know at first; though it seemed as if I knew inside, just as I know the rest of the message inside, now; but I kept on calling them down from the pigeon-holes and sending them to people. And they had such a curious way of forming companionships, sometimes, as they fluttered down; so that very hard looking, determined ones might combine with tender, soft ones, and all of the hardness and the sharp edges be
