"Well," said the Dream, "I think that if I had been in your place, and had caught the little glimpse that assured me that the people really were lovely, and that it was all in the glasses, I think that I would have—"
"What?" exclaimed Marjorie, eagerly.
"Just simply looked a hole through those glasses. You knew what was on the other side; and if you had looked hard enough, knowing that, you'd have had them punctured in no time."
"Oh, dear!" said Marjorie, "and so I did all of that struggling for nothing. And just think how I would have looked to those lovely people if they had seen me with them on—just the way the dreadful man looked tome. But how was I to know that I could look a hole through them?"
"Because you knew what the truth was, and that what you saw wasn't the truth. You can always look a hole through anything that isn't the truth, if you only look hard enough."
Marjorie sat and thought again. "Then," she said, "the spectacles meant that we sometimes get bad, wriggly mental glass in front of our eyes; and then it is up to us to look a hole
