“Well, I have felt the consequences this time, and they are bad enough,” said Frank, sighing. “You do not know how much I want to go to the menagerie, mother.”
“I know you want to go very much, and I feel much grieved at your disappointment, Frank; but the misfortunes of the day may be a useful lesson to you through your whole life, if you will try to profit by them.”
“I will, mother. I am resolved to act up to father’s motto in future,—‘There is no time like the present.’ You will see that all my duties will be done in proper time.”
“I hope so, my son. A habit of promptness, in the performance of even the most trifling duties, will be invaluable to you through life.”
“For a good beginning, mother,” continued Frank, “I will learn my lesson for the morning now, before Clara comes home, and then I shall be at leisure to talk to her.”
“I shall be glad to have you do so, Frank. And now I will tell you that your father intends going to town again on Saturday, and, if you are a good boy, will then take you to the menagerie.”
Frank’s face grew bright with pleasure.
“I am very glad!” he exclaimed. “But why did you not tell me before, mother?”
“I thought it better not to do so, my son. And now get your book, and I will explain the lesson to you.”
Frank obeyed; and the next half-hour was a pleasant one, although the dreaded arithmetic was in his hand.