By the Roadside | Page 8

trembling little white fellow who had failed to
find the opening, and turned toward the shed with it.
Marjorie climbed slowly down from the fence and walked along the
road, silently and with her head down.
Presently the Dream spoke. "Was it your work that the boy was doing?"
he asked.
"No," said Marjorie.
"Was he worried and uncertain when you came along? Did he ask for
your opinion or advice?"
"No," said Marjorie.

"And what did you do?"
Marjorie spoke in a very low voice, but very steadily. "I criticised him
unjustly; I talked about him in the hearing of other people, and some of
them will never know that he was right and I was wrong; and I
interfered, and now--" Marjorie stopped and swallowed hard.
"And now--what?" asked the Dream.
"I am sorry," said Marjorie humbly.
"So is the boy," said the Dream.
Marjorie said nothing.
"Aren't you afraid you'll get the habit?" asked the Dream, presently.
"What habit?"
"You've said 'I'm sorry,'--how many times to-day?"
Marjorie shook her head. "It seems as if I have said it oftener than
anything else. But I ought to be sorry when 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