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By JENNIE M. DRINKWATER
1883
"We are not to lead events but to follow them."—Epictetus.
"Our content is our best having."—Shakespeare.
Nobody had ever told Marjorie that she was, as somebody says we allare, three people,—the Marjorie she knew herself, the Marjorie otherpeople knew, and the Marjorie God knew. It was a "bother" sometimes tobe the Marjorie she knew herself, and she had never guessed there wasanother Marjorie for other people to know, and the Marjorie God knewand understood she did not learn much about for years and years. Ateleven years old it was hard enough to know about herself—her naughty,absent-minded, story-book-loving self. Her mother said that she lovedstory-books entirely too much, that they made her absent-minded andforgetful, and her mother's words were proving themselves true this veryafternoon. She was a real trouble to herself and there was no one near to"confess" to; she never could talk about herself unless enveloped in thefriendly darkness, and then the confessor must draw her out, step bystep, with perfect frankness and sympathy; even then, a sigh, or sob, orquickly drawn breath and half inarticulate expression revealed more thanher spoken words.
She was one of the children that are left to themselves. Only Linnet knewthe things she cared most about; even when Linnet laughed at her, shecould feel the sympathetic twinkle in her eye and the sympatheticundertone smothered