“NO!” exclaimed Mrs. Harris, with a frown upon her usually smooth brow, “no, Marion did not secure the position.”
“What can have hindered her?” The speaker seemed troubled and surprised, and tapped the carpet impatiently with her foot as she continued: “Really, Mrs. Harris, you can not blame me for her failure, for you know how hard I tried to keep your niece,—and, as her teacher, I think I can truthfully say she was fully prepared for the position, and not every young stenographer has so lucrative a situation awaiting her acceptance. I am quite puzzled.”
“O, she was perfectly competent—thanks to your thorough teaching—she was competent and willing, and she needed the work so badly, but Marion has one sad fault to overcome: she is always behindhand. Punctuality is not one of her virtues.”
“But how did it happen? I wrote her to go immediately to see Mr. B—— for he had written me that he must engage a capable person at once.”
“O yes, at once; that’s just the trouble. Marion never could do anything at once, you know. I urged her to go as soon as she received your letter, but she wanted to finish a bit of embroidery she was doing—in fact she said she didn’t feel like going just then—guessed the position would keep, and so she kept putting it off, until finally when she did go, the position had been filled. She came back feeling so badly that she cried.”
“Well, I tell you the poor girl needs the lesson, and I hope she will profit by it. Because she can never be really fitted to occupy any position of trust until she has learned to be prompt and punctual.”
Poor Marion is not the only one who needs to learn the lesson which the wise man sought to inculcate when he said: “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might;” and “There is a time for everything under the sun.” Habits of punctuality and promptness are as necessary to the Christian as to the man or woman of the world.
“But there are the children; how are parents to teach this virtue—for virtue is—is—to the little ones?”
How? Well I know of no better way than by example. I tell you, we must act in all the affairs of life as we would like our children to act. They are reasonably sure to imitate us.
There is an old story, but it will perhaps bear repeating, about a mountaineer having occasion to take his journey over a dangerous pathway in the mountains. The rocks were steep and precipitous, and many dark chasms yawned at his feet. Still he hurried on, for he knew no fear, and he was accustomed to picking his way over the mountains. The deep snow, treacherous and unstable, lay white and glistening in his path. Suddenly he heard a cry behind him. His little boy—the darling of his heart—was hurrying along after him as fast as the tiny feet could fly. The father’s heart stood still. If he had known the child was coming he would have chosen a safer route.
“Look out, father, I’m coming, and I’m stepping in your tracks!” and sure enough the little feet were jumping nimbly along over the dangerous way, with no thought of fear;—had not his father gone on before him? Now, with his boy in his arms, how carefully that father finished his journey. Ah, how much more careful would we be as we pass over life’s rough highway, a way beset with dangers and difficulties, could we but realize that our little ones are following on after us—in our very tracks.
“Mama,” said little Ella, “papa said I must bring him those papers to-day at just ten o’clock, there will be a gentleman at the office who wants to see them.”
Ten o’clock came and found Ella busy with her sewing. “It is time for me to go, mama, see, it’s just ten o’clock; will you get the papers for me?” “O child, I’m busy; I can’t get the papers now,—papa will have to wait.
“But, mama, he told me to be sure and be on time.”
“Well, I guess half an hour won’t matter much.” The half hour passed. “Mama, can you get the papers now?”
“O yes, yes, in a minute; I forgot all about it. I guess you’ll have to run or you’ll be late.”
The panting child arrived at the office twenty minutes later,—but the gentleman had gone.
The disappointed father severely reprimanded the child, for her tardiness had occasioned a considerable loss to him—but who was to blame? and who can wonder if, under such discipline, the child grows up to be unreliable and irresponsible?
