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 ing a small brown finger at his breast and grinning.

"But you won't do," said Marjorie. "You always look just any way that you happen to, and I want to see somebody real and see her look pleasant things at me, so that I will know that the nightmare is gone."

"Well, tell me about it, and we'll see whether it is gone or not."

Marjorie folded her hands and began. "Well, you see, I thought that I was in a beautiful valley—oh, the most beautiful valley in the whole world—and there were big shady trees, and a little stream with waterfalls, and great boulders that the water splashed around, and flowers growing everywhere; and there were people all about, some of them working and some of them sitting in the shade and talking or reading, and the children were having the happiest time, romping about and wading or reading or making pretty things with their fingers. But the loveliest part was that the people were all beautiful—oh, the most beautiful people that I ever saw."

"How?" asked the Dream. "What were they like?"