when one of them tossed a bit of paper into the air. Off went the horse, to one side, swerving the carriage almost into the ditch, and then bolting again.
"Whew!" said Marjorie, looking after them. "That is a great horse to drive. He'd shy at a canary-bird. He must be just broken. There, the man has him under control again. Isn't he a wonderful driver? He hasn't used the whip once; he merely holds him hard and talks to him until he quiets down."
"Too bad such a fine man should have been so unkind to the tired woman," said the Dream, whimsically.
Marjorie bit her lip. "Yes," she said, "he's another that I hated, and yet he was doing just the very best that he knew how."
"You certainly have wasted a lot of hatred to-day, haven't you?" said the Dream.
But Marjorie was looking away, farther up the road.
"Looking for another reason?" asked the Dream.
"Yes," said Marjorie, soberly. "I see the cold-hearted woman walking up the road. She's—she's crying."
