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 gust and tried to shake him off. The Dream chuckled.

"Oh, dear!" cried Marjorie. "What is it?"

"Anger," said the Dream, grinning.

"Well, I don't care," sobbed Marjorie; "it is dreadful here, and I know I shall never get through this awful swamp."

Here another dwarf sprang out and landed beside the first.

"Discouragement," remarked the Dream.

Marjorie began to look frightened. "Why, what shall I do—" she began, glancing hurriedly about for a way of escape, and instantly up sprang another little fellow and took possession of the other shoulder.

"Fear," chanted the Dream, monotonously, as if he were repeating a roll-call.

"Oh, dear, I can't bear it!" cried Marjorie, trying to fight them off. "And they bite so! Oh, what shall I do?"

"Pain," called the Dream, as a fourth little fellow clutched one of her arms.

The Dream's dry, teasing little voice was most aggravating to Marjorie's suffering, and she turned upon him in a perfect passion of anger. "I'll get even with you!" she cried.