By the Roadside | Page 5

you tread on it at every step, unless you carry the torn part."
And so, together, they pinned up the torn skirt; and then, with a loving
hand-clasp, the little girl went away up one road, and Marjorie and the
Dream turned to follow the other.
"I wish that she was going my way," said Marjorie, at last. "She is so
kind, and she didn't keep complaining and talking about how hard it
was to do her work, and how much she would rather do something else;
and how much pleasanter this road looks than the one she had to take;
but she was just loving and sunshiny and helpful."
And now they came to a place where there was a clump of wild roses
growing by the wayside, and Marjorie stopped and began to gather
some.
"The thorns are troublesome, aren't they?" asked the Dream, presently.

"Yes," said Marjorie, "but these are only little scratches, and I don't
mind."
"But why are you gathering the roses?"
"Because there is nothing else to do just here, and I shall soon find
some one who will love to have them; and, besides, they will make me
happier, as I go along," and she buried her face in the pink petals.
After a time they came to where a little brook wandered across the road.
There had been stepping-stones, but some thoughtless youngsters had
taken them to one side and built a dam, which caused the water to back
up until the way was impassable, if one would cross dry-shod.
Marjorie stood and looked for a moment, and then turned toward the
fence where she saw that others had crossed by clinging to the boards.
Then she stopped, and laying her roses in the shadow of a clump of
bushes, she went to the little dam and began to loosen the stones. They
proved to be heavy and slippery, and well embedded in the mud; but
she managed, at the expense of wet feet and clothing, to dislodge them
at last;--and then came the task of carrying them to where the other
stepping-stones were. One she carried, and dropped it into exactly the
right place, and then another, and was just returning for a third, when
she saw a boy coming along the road. When she saw him, she hurried
more eagerly, and was just lifting a very large stone when he came
forward, timidly, but with outstretched hands. "Let me help you," he
said.
But Marjorie half turned her back, with the heavy stone. "No, no!" she
said. "I can do it myself."
"I would like to help you," the boy persisted. "I could make it much
easier for you."
"No," said Marjorie, "I don't need you. Please let me pass."
The boy stepped aside with a little sigh. "No one wants me to help," he
said, "and I don't seem to find any work of my own. I am not very

clever," and he went on, crossing upon the stones which were already
laid, and then jumping to the farther side, where he stood, watching.
Marjorie followed with her load, stepping carefully from one stone to
another, and then, just as she bent to lower her burden into the stream,
it slipped from her hands and dropped with a great splash that deluged
the boy on the other side, with muddy water.
"There!" exclaimed Marjorie, impatiently, "I've got you all muddy! I'm
sorry, but you shouldn't have waited. I told you that I didn't want help."
"Never mind," said the boy, wiping the mud from his face; and turning
away, he walked quietly up the road.
Marjorie looked after him ruefully.
"What is the matter?" asked the Dream.
"I don't exactly know," said Marjorie; "but there is a mistake
somewhere."
"Why didn't you let him help you?" asked the Dream.
"I didn't need his help. I could do it alone."
"But perhaps he needed to help you."
Marjorie bit her lip. "I wanted to do it alone," she said. "I thought it was
my work. I wanted to work, and I was glad that it was hard, and that the
stones were all that I could lift,--it made it seem more like doing
something."
The Dream was silent for a moment, and Marjorie stood dabbling the
toe of her shoe in the water. At last, "Were you selfish?" asked the
Dream.
"Yes," said Marjorie, in a low voice, "I was." Then she went back and
gathered up her roses, and she and the Dream walked slowly on, soon
finding themselves on the outskirts of a town.

Presently the streets grew dingy and the houses high and narrow. "I
don't see anything to do here," said Marjorie. "Couldn't we go back into
the country again?"
"Don't you see anything to do?" asked the Dream,