"No," Marjorie shook her head, positively. "I didn't give her a thing."
"I think that you did," said the Dream. "I think that you gave her a great deal. You gave her your hand, and that was what she needed more than anything else in the world."
Marjorie bent her head. "Perhaps it was," she said, softly.
And now a very cold wind began to blow through the tall pines, and Marjorie began to shiver once more, and her teeth to chatter. It seemed almost cold enough to snow, and the wind whirled her thin skirts about her and cut through her flimsy sleeves. She hugged her arms closely to her in a vain effort to keep warm; but she made no complaint.
Presently they saw, plodding along before them, a woman carrying a baby in her arms and leading by the hand a three-year-old boy. The youngster was very thinly clad, and his ittle bare feet and limbs were purple with the cold, and he was crying piteously.
Marjorie turned away her face as she passed them, her lips quivering and her eyes full of tears; but a moment later she stopped and
