gust and tried to shake him off. The Dream chuckled.
"Oh, dear!" cried Marjorie. "What is it?"
"Anger," said the Dream, grinning.
"Well, I don't care," sobbed Marjorie; "it is dreadful here, and I know I shall never get through this awful swamp."
Here another dwarf sprang out and landed beside the first.
"Discouragement," remarked the Dream.
Marjorie began to look frightened. "Why, what shall I do—" she began, glancing hurriedly about for a way of escape, and instantly up sprang another little fellow and took possession of the other shoulder.
"Fear," chanted the Dream, monotonously, as if he were repeating a roll-call.
"Oh, dear, I can't bear it!" cried Marjorie, trying to fight them off. "And they bite so! Oh, what shall I do?"
"Pain," called the Dream, as a fourth little fellow clutched one of her arms.
The Dream's dry, teasing little voice was most aggravating to Marjorie's suffering, and she turned upon him in a perfect passion of anger. "I'll get even with you!" she cried.
