Marjorie smiled up at her. "Because they told me that they were never too busy nor too selfish to give what they have, their fragrance and loveliness."
The woman's face changed and she sat for a moment, looking at the violets; then she looked back at Marjorie, and there were little misty lights in her eyes. "Suppose that we divide them more equally," she said at last. "This is more than I really want to wear; and if we divide them, then each of us will have quite a large bunch. Come, climb in while we make them exactly equal."
So Marjorie climbed into the car and together they carefully separated the flowers and made them into two very lovely bunches which they tied with grass, wrapping the stems in damp leaves to keep them fresh, and meanwhile chatting very gaily. When they had finished and Marjorie stood beside the car again, the woman leaned out to say good-bye. "Will you shake hands with me?" she said. Marjorie held out her hand and the woman held it close for quite a long minute, looking down into her eyes; then she said good-bye and the car drove away.
Marjorie turned and looked at the Dream. "I almost got it that time," she said; "It looked out right at me from her eyes; and then, just as I had it, it was gone again. Oh, I wish that I could hold on to it."
