Katherine Merritte Snyder Yates

“ Oh, look at that dear little burro coming up the trail! Isn't he funny! Oh, I do hope that he will come as far as—this; but I'm afraid he won't—I'm afraid he will turn off at the branch down there. No, he's coming on, after all. I was dreadfully afraid that he wouldn't."
The Dream sniffed. "I don't wonder that you run away from tea-cups," he said.
"Why?" exclaimed Marjorie in surprise. "What has that to do with the burro?"
"Nothing whatever. It has to do only with your being a coward."
"Me? A coward?" gasped Marjorie. "Why, no one ever called me that before in all my life." ”

“ Marjorie turned, and then started forward, her eyes shining. "Oh, aren't they beautiful—beautiful!—and we are almost among them, even though the sea is so near. If we follow this trail along the spur, it will lead us right up into them;—and oh, did you ever see such ferns?—they are taller than I am;—and look at the vines dropping down from the trees and twisting all about;—and this wonderful, wonderful moss. I didn't know the world could be so beautiful." ”

“ The whole world is beautiful if you only get up high enough to look at it."
Marjorie gazed back at the broad valley with its soft green slopes and glittering waterfalls and the long tree shadows across the grass, and the curving grey roads, and the slender trail winding up the mountain, and then gave herself a little tight hug. ”

“ The boy nodded slowly. "Yes," he said, "down in my heart and up in my common sense I know all that,—and so do all of us;—but we've gotten into a habit of bowing down to the make-believe whims of a make-believe slave driver, and we kow-tow to her all the time, and whenever Common Sense tries to shame us out of it, we jump on him in a body and throttle him,—and then do some more kow-towing."
"Why don't you get to work and organize a strike, or a boycott or something?" said Marjorie. ”

“ Marjorie thought for a minute. "Well," she said, after a while, "an emptiness never teaches anything, so we'll have to put someone real into the place you've been giving to her;—someone real who makes real rules, and I think the best person would be Understanding—or else Common Sense,—or both of them would be better yet. Don't you think they ought to make good rulers?" ”

“ Marjorie looked down at her hands. "They don't seem limp and lax and bound down now, do they?" she said. "I wonder—"
"Be careful," said the little girl, gaily. "When you wonder and speculate, wonder and speculate about real things,—not about nothings. Don't make them real enough even to wonder about."
Marjorie pursed her lips ruefully. "That's just what the boy said," and then, "Oh, there he is now, 'way down the trail, waiting for me. Won't he be glad when he sees that I am really working? ”

“ Marjorie took the hands, but she did not speak;—the lump in her throat was so very big, and the bonds she was wearing were cutting so!—and she could only clutch tensely the hands and bite her lips to keep it all back. For one moment she stood so,—then she threw herself upon the ground beside the boulder, holding tightly to the warm hands and breaking into a wild passion of weeping.
The little girl slid down beside her and put her arms closely and strongly around her. "I love you, dear," she said, softly. "Don't fret,—everything will be all right." ”

“ What can it mean?"
"Can't you walk at all?" asked the Dream.
"Yes, a little," and Marjorie took several rather clumsy steps; "but I have not a bit of freedom,—it scarcely lets my muscles work at all. I don't understand it."
"I thought that you had Understanding and Common Sense for chums," said the Dream.
"Why, of course I have," said Marjorie; "so I surely ought to be able to find out what this is;—oh, I don't have to ask them, I see now, it is Sequence that has tied me up this way! That is rather interesting, isn't it? ”

“ As she came back with her arms full, the little girl drew her close for a moment, and then stepped back. "Aren't you going along the trail with me now?" asked Marjorie, her eyes anxious.
"Not just now," said the little girl. "I am going to wait here for a while."
"But why don't you wait on a nicer part of the trail?" asked Marjorie. "It isn't at all pretty here, and so many who come along are muddy and tired and worried." ”

“ Just then the girl with a torn dress called to Marjorie to know if she had gotten the pins, and Marjorie approached some of the other children to ask for them; but they all drew away from her as the first one had done. "No, no," they said, "we can't,—She would punish us,—everybody says so."
"I can't get them for you," said Marjorie, returning to the little girl. 'They are all afraid that their owner will punish them." ”

“ Because I turned my ankle once, I am afraid of turning it again, and that binds it;—and because Grandmother got twisted, I expect to do it myself if I set my foot sidewise in going up or down a steep hill;—oh, yes, I understand," and Marjorie started to move slowly along.
The Dream walked beside her for some distance. "Well, what are you going to do about it?" he said at last; "You don't seem to be getting on very rapidly." ”

“ But it must be so dreadfully sad to see, all the time, so many who are unhappy."
"Does it make you sad or glad when you can help someone? Will it make you sad or glad to give your fruit to people who are hungry?" ”

“ I'll have to wait until I get rid of these bonds."
"Then why—" the boy stopped and compressed his lips. "Let us look for the trail," he said, holding out his hand to her;—and slowly they started down from the ridge.
"It is dreadfully, dreadfully steep," said Marjorie, presently.
"It will be all right as soon as we find the trail," said the boy; "—and it must be around here somewhere."
"But the trail must be very steep, to get way down there," said Marjorie, holding onto a branch and peering forward.
"No," said the boy, "not so very. Trails always tack when there are steep places. ”

“ Some of them say that they do it just for fun, that they are not really afraid;—but those are the very ones who carry a chunk of wood around in their pockets so as to have it handy, and who would suddenly remember an engagement if they started to sit down at a table where there were twelve already. ”

“ The longest-living author of this work died in 1951, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 72 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works. ”