Marjorie looked, and saw the man with the bay horse, sitting straight and holding the reins taut as he was when he had passed them. And then, while she was looking, the horse suddenly laid back his ears, thrust his head forward with a twist and a jerk, and bolted. The man sat tight, drawing on the reins with all his strength. The carriage swayed and swerved and rocked; but he never faltered, never loosened his grip, never took his eyes from the maddened animal.
Marjorie leaned forward, gasping. "Oh," she cried, "how dreadful. The horse is running away! He can't hold him—I know he can't."
But the man did, and gradually he brought him down under control again, and Marjorie sat back and breathed easily once more.
"It's too bad that the woman and the little girl weren't in there then, isn't it," said the Dream.
"But," said Marjorie, "he couldn't have known that the horse was going to run away."
"Look again," said the Dream.
Marjorie did. The horse was about to pass a group of children by the side of the road,
