“Well, it is the same thing,” answered the little man. “You see, ‘Parle’ in French means to speak. So it is meant, that I, an active member, speak to, and prick up, people’s memories; it is what people would call a play upon words; only you have a way of putting it backwards.”
“Please, sir, can you tell me why this is called No-Time-Land; at least, how it got its name?”
“Well, I think I can,” said the M.P. “You must have noticed people hurrying along bent on some great purpose, but they never seem to attain that purpose; or to put it still plainer, they want to do some great thing, or even little things, but they never get time, they say, to do them, so all their great and little ideas end in simple talk. Consequently, and in fact, all lazy people who say they have no time, are sent to No-Time-Land.”
“Do they ever leave here? Mr. M.P.”
“Sometimes,” said the little man, “when they stray into my arbour, I prick up their memories; they occasionally turn over a new leaf then, if they wish to overcome their bad habits; but it is not often,” sighed he, “not often!”
“May I ask what you use the scroll for, please sir?”
“Yes; this is my scrap book. I am a collector of poetry, wise sayings, and various other things of interest. Here is a piece—you may like to read.”
Guy got up and went close to the scroll, and read these lines—
No time like the present