“I came this time, Uncle Anton,” she said, “not only to see you, but to tell you that the great clock in your tower does not keep good time.”
Uncle Anton looked at her a little surprised.
“How do you know that, my dear?” he said.
Then Arla told him how she had lain awake in the early morning, and had heard the striking of the different clocks. “If you wish to make it right,” said she, “I can give you the proper time, for I have brought my own little clock with me.”
She was about to take her rose-clock out of her basket, when her uncle motioned to her not to do so.
“Let me tell you something,” said he. “The altering of the time of day, which you speak of so lightly, is a very serious matter, which should be considered with all gravity. If you set back a clock, even as little as ten minutes, you add that much to the time that has passed. The hour which has just gone by has been made seventy minutes long. Now, no human being has the right to add anything to the past, nor to make hours longer than they were originally made. And, on the other hand, if you set a clock forward even so little as ten minutes, you take away that much from the future, and you make the coming hour only fifty minutes long. Now, no human being has a right to take anything away from the future, or to make the hours shorter than they were intended to be. I desire, my dear niece, that you will earnestly think over what I have said, and I am sure that you will then see for yourself how unwise it would be to trifle with the length of the hours which make up our day. And now, Arla, let us talk of other things.”
And so they talked of other things until Arla thought it was time to go. She saw there was something wrong in her uncle’s reasoning, although she could not tell exactly what it was, and thinking about it, she slowly returned to the town. As she approached the house of the little old lady with white hair, she concluded to stop and speak to her about her clock. “She will surely be willing to alter that,” said Arla, “for it is so very much out of the way.”
The old lady knew who Arla was, and received her very kindly; but when she heard why the young girl had come to her, she flew into a passion.
“Never, since I was born,” she said “have I been spoken to like this! My great-grandfather lived in this house before me; that clock was good enough for him! My grandfather lived in this house before me; that clock was good enough for him! My father and mother lived in this house before me; that clock was good enough for them! I was born in this house, have always lived in it, and expect to die in it; that clock is good enough for me! I heard its strokes when I was but a little child, I hope to hear them at my last hour; and sooner than raise my hand against the clock of my ancestors, and the clock of my whole life, I would cut off that hand!”
Some tears came into Arla’s eyes; she was a little frightened. “I hope you will pardon me, good madam,” she said, “for, truly, I did not wish to offend you. Nor did I think that your clock is not a good one. I only meant that you should make it better; it is nearly an hour out of the way.”