"But--what?" said the boy.
"Well--" Marjorie was thinking hard, "--I am not sure but that I ought
to be going on--"
"You said that you wanted to sing," said the boy.
Suddenly Marjorie's face brightened. "Oh, I know!" she exclaimed. "Did
you ever try singing the multiplication table to that tune? It's lots of
fun. Let's try it."
"All right," said the boy, "only I don't know it all."
"This will help you to learn it," said Marjorie. "I remember it, so you
just follow me. We'll begin with the fives, because they're easy;" and
they dropped a little way behind the others and began to sing, softly,
putting their own words to the tune. The boy was delighted to find how
easily the words fitted, and presently they went on to the "Sixes," and
began to sing a little louder; and then another of the children dropped
back to find what they were doing, and joined in, with gusto. This
attracted the attention of others, who gradually joined them, until soon
the words of the multiplication table rose high above the silly and
senseless words of the song which they had been singing;--and Marjorie's
voice led them, singing true to note and to the facts of the table.
"Good!" said the boy who was walking beside Marjorie, as they stopped
for breath. "I always thought the 'Sixes' were hard; but they are easy
this way; for the tune makes me think of the right words to put in. Now
let's try the 'Sevens.'"
And so they tried the "Sevens" and the "Eights," some of the children
stumbling badly at first; but soon getting into the swing of the tune
and the words, until their voices all blended smoothly and sweetly. By
and by the children began dropping out of the group, as they came to
their homes on the road; each one calling a cheery good-by to Marjorie,
and going away singing by himself.
"I'm going to teach it to my brother and sister," called one, as he
turned in at his gate, "so that we can sing it together at home."
"And so am I," "And so am I," called the others; "and we'll sing it
coming from school every night until we know it all."
When Marjorie and the Dream were again alone, Marjorie continued humming
the little tune, happily.
"The world is more beautiful than it was. Don't you think so?" said the
Dream, presently.
"Yes," said Marjorie.
"I suppose you know what was the best thing that you did there?" said
the Dream.
"Yes," said Marjorie. "It was putting something true into their song, in
place of what was silly and meaningless and untrue."
"And you did it without making one of them feel cross or contrary. You
only showed them something better than they had, and did it without
being obtrusive. Every one wants what is better than he has;--if he is
allowed to take it of his own accord, and doesn't have it thrust upon
him."
After this they walked along in silence for quite a long way, until they
came to the top of a hill, and sat down to rest for a few moments.
Marjorie heaved a sigh as she looked away over the low, green hills, the
shady woods, and the winding stream. "I've come a long way," she said,
"and I haven't done much;--but I wanted to,--you don't know how I wanted
to."
"And what are you going to do now?" asked the Dream.
"Keep on," said Marjorie, bravely.
"In just the same way?"
"No. I've learned some things,--and I shall learn some more. I've made
ever so many mistakes--"
"But you've seen them," said the Dream.
"Yes. I don't think I'll make the same ones again;--and I'll try to
watch and think, so that I will not make so many as I have,--and--but I
wanted, so much, to find some real work to do!"
"Do you remember what I told you, a while ago, that real work is?"
"Yes. Just helping, wisely."
"And how can you help best?"
Marjorie mused for a moment. "By loving, and living love," she said;
"and having your hand ready." And then, after a moment, "Do you suppose
that I will ever find something big to do, instead of just the little
bits by the wayside?"
"It is all 'by the wayside,'" said the Dream; "and the big things will
come,--when you are big enough for them."