By the Roadside

by Katherine M. Yates

"Well," said Marjorie, at last, "I suppose the reason is just about as small and selfish and useless as a reason could possibly be."

"It is," said the Dream. "Now I'll tell you something. Those who have come to be known for their work are those who have worked for the love that was in them,—not for the name. To really work, is only to help; and those who are helped will see to it that the work and the worker are never separated; for while the work lives, the worker is in and of it. Do you see?"

"Yes, I see," said Marjorie, softly. "I am not honest enough, nor unselfish enough for a great work yet; but the little things will get me into practice, so I must love to do them, and perhaps the other will come when I am ready for it."

They had reached the top of the hill and passed a little school-house before either of them spoke again, and then the Dream broke the silence. "Why did you do that?" he asked; for Marjorie had jumped across the little ditch and was walking in the grass and weeds along the roadside. "The road isn't dusty," he added, "so it is no pleasanter walking there."

"Well, you see," explained Marjorie, "I noticed that some people had walked along here and made a little path, and it will be much better to walk on a path by and by when the road is dusty."

"But your walking there this once can't help much."

"It will help some," said Marjorie, "and it is only a little hard for me; and walking in the dust will be very hard for ever so many after a while, and the weeds and grass would be grown quite high by that time. You see, my walking here presses the grass down and makes it look easier, so that some one else will do the same and help to wear the way. There," pointing backward, "do you see? All of those schoolchildren have come over on to the path because they saw me, and that will help ever so much."

"I guess you're right," said the Dream. "It is a good thing to make every step that you take, do work that will help some one some time."

Presently they came to a cross-roads, and Marjorie hesitated for a moment to see which way to turn; and then she noticed that the wind had blown one of the sign-boards from off its post, and that it lay, face-downward, in the road, covered with mud. Taking it up, she went to the little brook by the wayside and washed it carefully; and then, holding it as high as she could reach, she fastened it to the post, by pounding in the loosened nails with a stone. This had all taken some time, and when she had finished, she stepped back to view her work, wearing an expression of extreme complacence, which quickly changed to one of vexation, as she discovered that she had nailed the sign up side down, so that not only were the words inverted; but it pointed in the wrong direction.

"Oh, dear, see what I've done!" she cried.