"Tut, tut!" replied the common-sense Doll; "you have no reasoning power. That I can see by your face. Still, if I can help you I will. What would you have me do?" "Give me back my dream," said the Marionette. Then she covered her face with her hands and gave a great sigh. The common-sense Doll looked even more practical than before. "That is it, is it?" she said. "A morbid longing after a Dream. I begin to understand. Nerves,--indigestion,--too many sweet things,--I fear I cannot, then, be of much assistance. However, the General of the Tin Soldiers has a wonderful turn for doctoring, quite a natural gift. I will send him to you. He may be able to do you some good." So she went on her way, and the little Marionette was once more alone with her sorrow and regret. By and by, however, the General of the Tin Soldiers trotted up on his handsome black charger, and reined in before her. "My dear little lady," he said kindly, if pompously, "in what pitiful condition do I find you? Come, come, tell an old soldier, who has been through much himself, all about it." And, as she did not at once answer: "Well," he continued good-naturedly, "never mind. Do not trouble to speak, I will prescribe for you. I recognize your complaint, and have already treated with much success a large number of my Tin Soldiers suffering in the same way. This, then, is my prescription for your malady: plenty of fresh air; exercise in moderation; early hours and plain diet. But don't let your diet become monotonous. For example, a rice pudding one day, sago the next, tapioca the third. And a little gentle amusement every now and then to keep up your spirits; Christy Minstrels; a pleasant, little musical gathering of friends; and so on. Finally, a powerful tonic to put a little more color into those poor little cheeks. Kindly permit me to feel your pulse." And so saying the General bent from his saddle and courteously took the little Marionette's hand. Then, looking much alarmed, "_Galloping, galloping!_" he exclaimed, "I must do likewise, and order you a tonic at the nearest chemist's without delay." And putting spurs into his horse he rode away hurriedly. "All that won't do me any good," said the little Marionette aloud. "I don't want that." "What do I want?" she sighed. "A jest, my good creature," said a voice near her, and looking up she saw the Clown with his hands in his pockets dancing a double-shuffle in front of her. "A jest," he repeated. Then as he danced and shook the bells on his cap, he chanted in time to the movement of his feet-- "Broken nose and crooked eyes, Broken heart and mournful sighs,-- Life's a jest for a' that." "No, it isn't; not to me," answered the little Marionette very sadly. "It will be, by and by," he said cheerfully. "No; not to me," she repeated. The Clown looked at her with sympathy. "Shall I tell you a good story?" he asked. "Quite one of my best?"