For the Next One

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Dec 19, 1912

“Why, auntie, I thought you were through!”

“So I am with my work,” returned Aunt Carrie, as with a smile she went on threading her needle. “I am only trying to smooth the way for the next one.”

“Who, for instance?” questioned Will, curiously.

“Well, suppose that just as papa is starting for business to-morrow morning, he discovers that he is about to lose a button from his coat, and he can spare only about two minutes in which to have it sewed on. Don’t you think it would be quite a relief to mama to find her needle already threaded?”

“Of course, for I shouldn’t think one could find that little bit of an eye at all if he were in a hurry. I had a dreadful time the other day when I wanted to mend my ball. I should have been glad to have found a threaded needle then.”

“Suppose, again, Will, that whoever dropped that piece of wood upon the cellar stairs had stopped to pick it up, remembering that some one else would be coming that way soon. Wouldn’t it have been worth while? Think how Bridget has suffered from her fall, and how the household has been inconvenienced.”

“Yes, auntie; and if I had wiped up the water I spilled this noon, sister wouldn’t have been obliged to change her dress when she was in such a hurry to get back to school; but a fellow will have to keep pretty wide-awake to remember every time.” And with a thoughtful expression on his boyish face, Will passed out of the house and toward the front gate, leisurely munching a banana as he went, but apparently engaged in deep thought. Reaching the sidewalk, he threw down the banana skin, and proceeded on his way; but presently he turned and looked hard at the yellow object lying on the pavement, and then, quickly retracing his steps, he picked it up and flung it far out into the street, where no one would be likely to slip upon it.— Morning Star.