nor the worry nor weariness to your heart; for you keep them clean and strong with much work and the love that is in you;—but oh, it is good of you!"
The little girl touched her cheek softly. "I will see you again by and by," she said. "I am so glad for the work you are doing."
"It is all through you," cried Marjorie.
"No," said the little girl, "it is your work, done in your way,—I only helped you to set your hand to it."
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
