"Why, you are putting the pickets too close together," said Marjorie. "They don't look well that way, and they are too near the ground, besides. I was just speaking to my friend about it, and I thought that I ought to tell you, as well."
"Thank you," said the boy, gravely; and then:—"Do you know what I am building this fence for?"
"No-o," said Marjorie. "I supposed it was just—just a fence."
"Well," said the boy, "a fence usually has some particular purpose; and, as a general thing, the person building it knows that purpose better than any one else, and just what sort of a fence is best in that especial case."
Marjorie said nothing, and the boy went on.
"I am fencing in a place for some white rabbits. Some of them are very small, and so I had to put the pickets near together and close to the ground. Do you see?"
"Oh," said Marjorie, "I didn't know what you were going to keep inside! Of course you would have to build it this way for the little rabbits. If I had known what it was for, I wouldn't have said anything."
"Was it necessary for you to know?" asked the boy. "It is my fence."
Marjorie flushed, "I don't think that you are very grateful," she said; "and, anyway, the pickets don't look well so close together, even if you do have to have it that way," and she turned and went back to the road.
"Well?" said the Dream, as she approached.