away down the stream. And then a great black velvet butterfly with a yellow flame in each wing, came and settled on the bending fern frond, and she held her breath while he fanned the great wings softly and drank the bright splashes which had caught in the silver hairs of the stem, and then sailed away up toward the blue patches above.
Presently she shook her head, though still she smiled;—"And even yet I don't understand," she said.
"Tell me what happened," said the Dream. "What was the first group talking about?"
"Nothing," said Marjorie.
"Nothing?"
"Just that. They were just talking. Nobody said anything that mattered and nobody paid much attention to anybody else, and everybody interrupted everybody else if she happened to want to, and it didn't matter much, because there wasn't much of anything to interrupt."
The Dream laughed. "I can tell exactly what it was like, from the way you say it."
"Yes, I know," said Marjorie, "It makes me feel commonplace and inconsequent just to remember it. It was gabble, gabble, gabble."
"Did you try to say anything to help?" asked the Dream.
"I couldn't get a chance to unless I interrupted about three at the same time, and I couldn't even find a place to begin to interrupt," and Marjorie shook her head at the remembrance.
