Page:On the Hill-top (1919).pdf/38

 kind girl and the ragged child a million times better than I do them," she said.

"Then at least you belong with us," said the Dream gently.

Marjorie sat still, her hands and her lips squeezed tightly together.

"Tell me about it," said the Dream again.

"Oh, I can't understand!" cried Marjorie. "I can't. It's almost always that way and I don't know what is the matter with me. I don't know——." Then she stopped, holding her lips hard again and staring down into the black pool, her eyes dim with the hurt of the memory.

The Dream sat quietly waiting for a long time. "It is very beautiful here," he said at last.

Marjorie raised her head and looked about her, and then, with a long sigh her tight hands and lips relaxed and a soft little smile came about her mouth. "Yes," she said, "I do belong here. Oh, I love it all and it loves me, and it's sweet and kind and beautiful and tender and pitiful and—and—and everything I need," and then she put her head down upon her arms and cried and cried.

The Dream sat still, waiting quietly. After a while Marjorie sat up again and leaned over to touch softly a long half-curled fern frond that had bent down until it just skimmed the water and was making a tiny riffle every time that the breeze stirred it; and then she dabbled her fingers in the ripples, and then sent a long brown boat-shaped leaf down the splashing fall, to be tossed off into the smooth pool and then sail