“But,” cried Marjorie, “I can help her then!  That basket must be hard to carry, even on level ground.”

“She lives at the top of the hill,” said the Dream, quietly.  “She has no farther to carry it.”

Marjorie bit her lip.  “And she was right here when you first spoke?”

“Yes,” said the Dream, “she was right here.”

“But I didn’t see her,” protested Marjorie.

“You weren’t looking for her,” said the Dream.

“I’m sorry,” said Marjorie, “but—­but—­” searching vainly for an excuse; and then a little virtuous tone coming into her voice; “—­as likely as not she is better off for having carried it alone,—­stronger, you know,—­more experienced,—­” this last rather lamely, for the Dream was looking at her fixedly.  “Don’t you think so?” she asked presently, as the Dream made no reply.

“I think,” he said at last, “that there was Some One, a long time ago, who spent His entire life helping others, wisely.”

“And I suppose you think that I ought to have taken the whole basket and lugged it up the hill for her, and let her walk along and carry her hands!” exclaimed Marjorie, angrily.

“No,” said the Dream, “not unless, for some reason, you thought that you ought to.  You are not arguing honestly.  You are not called upon to do one thing more than you think, honestly, that you ought to.  No more than that is your work.”

“But I could make myself think—­” began Marjorie.

“I said honestly,” said the Dream.  “It isn’t honest to make yourself think anything.”

“But mustn’t I study about it, and try—­”

“Cer-tain-ly!  Study about it carefully; but do it fairly.  Don’t take what some one else says that you ‘ought’ to do, and try to shave yourself down to fit it.  Study it out and think it out for yourself; and then if the other fellow’s opinion seems wise, follow it;—­and if it doesn’t, follow a better one of your own.”

“But suppose that some one has a right to tell me what to do?”

“That’s different.  If you have given some one the right to tell you what to do, it must be because you believe that person understands better than you do.  If you believe that, be obedient; if you don’t, say so and go your own way.  Be honest, that’s all,—­be honest with you.”

“With me?”

“Yes, with you.  If you are honest with yourself, you are square with the world.”

“I see,” said Marjorie.  “Oh, dear, that is the third stone I’ve stumbled over in two minutes!  I wonder why some one doesn’t roll them out of the road,—­they are not so very large.”

“I wonder why,” echoed the Dream, and there was a queer little note in his voice that made Marjorie glance toward him; and then her face flushed and she gave a little laugh.

“Why, of course it’s my work!” she exclaimed, stooping and beginning to roll one toward the side of the way.  It was rather heavy and awkward to handle; but she kept bravely on, and soon returned for another.  As she bent toward it, she happened to glance back down the road, and then she suddenly straightened up.  “Oh, look!” she cried.  “See all the people dragging that wagon up the hill,—­and just hear them shout!  Something must have happened to the horse!  I’m going to help!” and she started to run down the hill.