In the ears of the little listeners this was a perfect gem of poetry, far beyond any thing Maggie had ever written before, whether it were "divine song," or "moral poem." The concluding lines were considered particularly fine, and, indeed, had been added on account of their striking effect.
Bessie and Belle had heard it before, but they listened with rapt attention, and Lily was very much impressed. The third verse she felt particularly adapted to her case, though Maggie had intended no home thrust when she wrote it. But, to Lily's mind, it just suited the affair of the inkstand; and when Maggie finished reading, she exclaimed,—
"I should think I was a base, heartless crime!"
The children all hastened to console her, and to assure her that they thought she would not fail to improve, now that she saw her fault so plainly.
"I didn't mean that the child in the poem was really you," said Maggie. "That's the reason I made Pro a boy instead of a girl. I only wanted to show you what people might come to who procrastinated all the time, and never were punctual."
Maggie's drawing, as you have heard, was divided up into a number of smaller pictures, each one suited to a particular verse of the poem; and they explained themselves to one who had read or heard the latter.
The fourth and last picture had been drawn by Belle, the chief artist among the little party.
This also represented Father Time, who had now grown fat and flourishing, which was somewhat singular under the circumstances. He was accompanied by another burly figure, and both were armed with many lashes and whips with which they chased "Pro," now himself reduced to a skeleton state, and vainly endeavoring to escape from his tormentors.
"This," said Belle, "is my drawing, but it is Maggie's idea, and Bessie and I think it is pretty grand. Here is that naughty Pro, and he has lost every thing and every one he had in the world, all through his own putting off; and here," pointing to little dots and round o's with which the page was covered, "here are the hours and minutes flying away from him too. The largest ones are the hours; the little ones, the minutes. And here are Father Time and Remorse coming after him with their—their—What kind of whips do they have, Maggie?"