Neither Cherry nor I spoke. Jack stared hard at Maimie for some seconds.
“Yes,” he said presently. “Yes, of course I could get over that. It’s stupidity.”
“No, not stupidity. It is a bad habit of letting your mind wander. And bad habits may always be got over,—always,—only the longer you put off, the harder your fight will be. Jack, you can get over this, for Aunt Marion’s sake, and because it is right.”
“Yes; of course I can,” assented Jack, looking like one in a dream.
“It will be a fight,” repeated Maimie, standing by him still. “But you must fight it out, Jack. You must make up your mind that there SHALL NOT be one single more mistake from carelessness. I don’t mean only making up your mind to try a little more, but making up your mind to no. And, Jack,—if you pray to be helped—”
Jack looked up at Maimie, as if she had been a sort of guardian angel. “Yes, yes, I will really, Maimie, really and truly.”
“That would be like a man,” pursued Maimie. “But to be always blundering, and always saying you can’t help it, is not like a man.”
Jack stood up, and stretched himself. “Thank you, Maimie,” he said, in quite a different voice from his common voice. “I shan’t forget this. I will be a man now, God helping me; and I’ll fight against all this folly. I do really believe it has been half laziness.”
And where Cherry or I would have protested, and tried to make our dear Jack think better of himself, Maimie said quietly, “Of course it has. But you are not going to be lazy any more.”
“No, I’m not,” he said earnestly.