"I've walked a very long way," he said, "and I've miles and miles farther to go, and my shoes have given out, and there were sharp stones in the road, and my feet—" he bit his lip and dropped his face in his hands again.
Marjorie glanced at his feet and her face paled a little; then, resolutely, she sat down upon a log and began taking off her own shoes. The boy was much smaller than herself, and she saw that he could wear them easily. When she had removed them, she went softly and placed them close beside him, and then ran lightly away over the smooth grass of the wayside.
The Dream was waiting for her a little way down the road. "So you saw your brother, after all, did you?" he remarked.
"My brother?" said Marjorie. "Why, he isn't my brother! I never even saw him before."
"Isn't he your brother?" persisted the Dream. "Think a little."
Marjorie sat down by the roadside. She had come to the conclusion that it was always worth while to think when the Dream advised her to. After a while she looked up, and her face was very tender and sweet. "Yes," she
