"Yes, I am. He ought to be hated. He could see that the woman was tired, and see her big bundle, and the tired kiddie. I just hope—"
"Be real careful what you 'just hope,'" said the Dream.
"Well, I can't help it," said Marjorie. "It fairly makes me boil. Perhaps there won't be another carriage by here for hours."
Here the woman looked up dispiritedly. "I think we would better be going on," she said, gently wakening the little child whose head lay heavily against her shoulder. "If another team comes while we are on the road, perhaps it will pick us up; but I don't dare to wait any longer." She rose up, took her bundle, and turned toward the road. "Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, "there comes an automobile; but of course it is headed in the wrong direction. Isn't that hard luck?"
The car came on rapidly, and when it reached the little group it stopped and a woman leaned out. "How far are you going?" she asked. She was a cold-looking, fashionably dressed woman and her voice was hard and rather ungracious.
