"I suppose she'd say that she wasn't 'built' that way," said the Dream slyly.
Marjorie laughed. "And you gave that another name, 'habit' and 'laziness,' when you were talking about seeing with a single eye. Now let me see if I understand," and Marjorie leaned back against one of the tall trees and looked steadily before her. By and by she spoke. "I can look away off at the sea and the cocoa-nut trees on the edge of it, against the blue; or I can look close by, at the swaying branches with the long green locks, right before me," she said.
"Look again," said the Dream. "Suppose that you were going to paint a picture, what would you put into it?"
Marjorie looked. "Well," she said, "first I would have that long green branch at the left, and that bit of old mossy stone wall down in front, and that feathery green shrub just over there;—and then I'd have that slope of hill over there; and then, away off, the cocoa-nut trees and the blue gauze sea beyond; and then that wonderful sky and those fluffs of clouds. There, that makes it quite perfect."
"Look at it carefully as a whole and be very sure that it is just as you want it."
"It is perfect," said Marjorie again. "It is a wonderful picture."
The Dream grinned his funny little grin. "You got so interested in your picture that you forgot your habit, didn't you?" he said.
Marjorie still sat looking at the picture.
