mountains; and when you spoke about how hard it is to be wise, I wondered if you ever thought about one reason, and about what a funny little mole-hill you are and what a great big mountain you look to be, from your own view-point."
Marjorie pursed up her lips and the Dream went on. "You see," he said, "you keep so tremendously close to that funny little mole-hill that you are, that there isn't room for much of anything else in the picture. You come and lie right down beside it with your face up close against it, just as we were talking about lying down beside that old stone wall; and then you can't see enough over the top of it, the most of the time, to have a chance to acquire such an enormous amount of wisdom. If you would get up and look over the top of it now and then, and notice how little and funny it really is, you would get a whole lot wiser right away."
Marjorie turned toward him with a flash of anger in her eyes; then suddenly she laughed. "You're right," she said. "I got down close to it for a moment just then, and it loomed so big and important and injured, that I almost lost sight of the wisdom that you were pointing out over the top of it. I am afraid that I do a whole lot of my kindnesses from so close up to the 'Me' mole-hill, that I don't lose sight of it at all, but keep it right in the picture, to see how the kindnesses look with it in the foreground, or the background, or somewhere."
"There is nothing so very original about doing that," said the Dream.
