bundle into her arms, called the child and went to the side of the road, standing close and looking eagerly at the on-coming carriage. As it drew near, she put up her hand with a motion of humble inquiry.
But the man never drew rein. As he passed he said something hastily, which they could not understand, and kept on his way, scarcely glancing at them.
"How selfish!" cried Marjorie, indignantly, and the child began to sob.
The woman turned silently back to the roadside; and sitting down, she took the child into her arms and began soothing it gently. It was not an attractive child,—not pretty nor bright,—but it was clean, and had a very sweet little smile when one spoke to it.
Marjorie sat gloomily watching them.
"What's the matter?" asked the Dream, who had followed them and was swinging on a blackberry vine beside her.
"I don't like people," said Marjorie. "What makes them act like that? What's the use of being so selfish and so unkind? I can't like them. I won't like them."
"You are hating that man, too, are you?"
