There, written at the head of the page, were these words:
"Emily's Waste of Time."
and beneath was quite a long column of figures, and a list of duties unfulfilled.
"Oh, mamma," cried Emily, throwing herself upon her mother's breast, "it is time, precious time, that is the gift I waste; but surely I have not spent so many idle minutes in just one week."
"I am sorry to say that you have, my dear daughter, all these and even more. I have promised to keep an account, and I have done so; add them up and see how many there are."
Emily added up the figures with tearful eyes, and said, "there are four hundred and twenty, mamma."
"And how many hours does that make, Emily?"
The little girl thought a moment, and then answered,
"Seven hours."
"Very well; then you see you waste seven hours in a week, which would make three hundred and sixty-four in a year, and if you should live the allotted period of life, which would be sixty years from the present time, you will willfully waste twenty one thousand eight hundred and forty hours of the precious time God has given you in which to work out His will."