"That doesn't make any difference," said Marjorie. "When you once say a thing that I know is true, it stays with me, and you might as well keep shouting it all the time as to have said it once;—I can't get away from it."
"If it is true, why do you want to get away from it?" asked the Dream.
"Because—" Marjorie hesitated, "—because I'm sleepy," she said petulantly.
"There are ever so many sleepy folks in this world," observed the Dream.
"Then one more can't make much difference," said Marjorie.
"That's what the others think,—and that's why there are so many. Suppose every one thought that!"
Marjorie pondered for a moment,—then she laughed. "Just think what a great big alarm-clock it would take to wake them all up!" she said.
The Dream rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "An alarm-clock is a pretty noisy article," he observed, "and it never says anything; and besides, I don't like its name. But one good, wide-awake person—" he looked directly at Marjorie, "—one good, wide-awake person could waken a very great many people—if he wanted to. But go on to sleep if you choose. I won't bother you."
"I'm not sleepy any more," said Marjorie; "and anyway, I slept only a little while after you spoke."
The Dream nodded. "Only a little while,—just long enough to let your work pass you by."