"Yes," said Marjorie, "There are not often two such big ones together. I'm afraid there won't be any more like that."
"And suppose there are not?"
"Oh, of course it doesn't make any difference;—only I love to see the big ones. I'm afraid you're not very fond of scenery."
"Would it be a serious matter to you if I were not?"
"No-o, of course not; only I think that you would miss a great deal of pleasure. 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?"
