By the Roadside | Page 8

I make mistakes, oughtn't I?"
"Yes. Only don't hold on to it after you have learned your lesson, that's all. The lesson is the only good thing about being sorry;--and you and the boy, each, had a lesson this time."
"Yes," said Marjorie, "and mine is that other people's work--"
"Make it short," said the Dream. "Call it 'mind your own business.'"
Marjorie nodded gravely. "And the boy's lesson is--"
"'Be sure you're right, then go ahead, 'Don't mind what people say.'"
hummed the Dream.
Marjorie nodded again. "But it is so hard to 'be sure you're right,' when other people think that you are wrong."
"Not if you keep an honest WHY in sight," said the Dream.
"Listen," said Marjorie, "I hear singing," and she looked all about her eagerly, but could see no one. "How sweet it sounds," she said; "there must be quite a number singing together. Oh, there they are!" and she pointed to where a group of five or six children were just emerging from a shady lane and turning into the road, all singing gaily to a tune which Marjorie knew very well. "Come," she cried, "let's catch up. I'd love to sing with them," and she hurried her steps.
As she came up behind the children, several turned and saw her. "Come and sing with us," called one of them.
"Thank you," said Marjorie. "I was just wishing you'd ask me," and she eagerly joined the group. However, as they took up the song again, Marjorie did not take part in it; but, instead, a little wrinkle came between her eyebrows, and she glanced anxiously at the Dream, who did not seem to be looking in her direction at all.
Presently, one of the children who was walking beside her, stopped singing and turned toward her. "Why don't you sing?" he asked.
"I--I don't know those words," said Marjorie.
"Do you know the tune?" asked the boy.
"Oh, yes," said Marjorie; "but I always sang different words to it."
"Well, you can learn these easily," said the boy. "I'll teach them to you."
Marjorie hesitated. "You are very kind," she said; "but--but--"
"But--what?" said the boy.
"Well--" Marjorie was thinking hard, "--I am not sure but that I ought to be going on--"
"You said that you wanted to sing," said the boy.
Suddenly Marjorie's face brightened. "Oh, I know!" she exclaimed. "Did you ever try singing the multiplication table to that tune? It's lots of fun. Let's try it."
"All right," said the boy, "only I don't know it all."
"This will help you to learn it," said Marjorie. "I remember it, so you just follow me. We'll begin with the fives, because they're easy;" and they dropped a little way behind the others and began to sing, softly, putting their own words to the tune. The boy was delighted to find how easily the words fitted, and presently they went on to the "Sixes," and began to sing a little louder; and then another of the children dropped back to find what they were doing, and joined in, with gusto. This attracted the attention of others, who gradually joined them, until soon the words of the multiplication table rose high above the silly and senseless words of the song which they had been singing;--and Marjorie's voice led them, singing true to note and to the facts of the table.
"Good!" said the boy who was walking beside Marjorie, as they stopped for breath. "I always thought the 'Sixes' were hard; but they are easy this way; for the tune makes me think of the right words to put in. Now let's try the 'Sevens.'"
And so they tried the "Sevens" and the "Eights," some of the children stumbling badly at first; but soon getting into the swing of the tune and the words, until their voices all blended smoothly and sweetly. By and by the children began dropping out of the group, as they came to their homes on the road; each one calling a cheery good-by to Marjorie, and going away singing by himself.
"I'm going to teach it to my brother and sister," called one, as he turned in at his gate, "so that we can sing it together at home."
"And so am I," "And so am I," called the others; "and we'll sing it coming from school every night until we know it all."
When Marjorie and the Dream were again alone, Marjorie continued humming the little tune, happily.
"The world is more beautiful than it was. Don't you think so?" said the Dream, presently.
"Yes," said Marjorie.
"I suppose you know what was the best thing that you did there?" said the Dream.
"Yes," said Marjorie. "It was putting something true into their song, in place of what was silly and meaningless and untrue."
"And you did it without making one of them feel cross or contrary. You only showed them something better than they had, and did it