“I don’t care,” she said with a pout and a frown, “I just have too much to do, and that’s all there is about it.”

“My child, are you speaking quite as respectfully as you ought in addressing your father?” he asked in grave, reproving accents.

She hung her head in sullen silence.

He waited a moment, then said with some sternness, “When I ask you a question, Lucilla, I expect an answer, and it must be given.”

“No, sir; it wasn’t respectful,” she replied penitently.  “But please forgive me, papa, I hope I’ll never speak so again.”

He drew her to him and kissed her tenderly.  “I do, dear child.  But now I must know what you mean by saying that you have too much to do.”

“It’s that sewing for the Dorcas society, papa, beside all my lessons and practising, and other things that you bid me do every day.”

“Then you must undertake less of it, or none at all; for as I have said before, your lessons are of much more importance.  I can pay some one to work for the poor, but my little girl’s stock of knowledge must be increased, and her mind improved by her own efforts.”

“I don’t want to give it up, papa; because it would be mortifying to have it said I couldn’t do as much as the other girls.”

“You seem to be doing charitable work from a very poor motive,” he remarked in a tone of grave concern.

“Papa, that isn’t my only motive,” she replied, hanging her head and blushing.  “I do want to please the Lord Jesus and to be kind and helpful to the poor.”

“I am glad to hear it; but you must be willing to undertake less if you can not do so much without neglecting other, and more important duties.  Did you bring home an extra quantity of work from the last meeting of your society?”

“No, sir,” and she blushed again as she spoke, “but I—­I kept putting off doing it because there was always something else I wanted to do—­a story to read, or a game to play, or a bit of carving, or something pleasanter than sewing—­till Grace reminded me there was only one day left, and then I hurried over my lessons and composition and worked as hard and fast as I could at the sewing.”

“Ah,” he said, “it is an old and very true saying that ’Procrastination is the thief of time.’  The only way to accomplish much in this world is to have a time for each duty, and always attend to it at that set time.

“If you want to go on with this Dorcas work you must set apart some particular time for it, when it will not interfere with other duties, and resolve not to allow yourself to use that time for anything else.”

“Unless my father orders me?” she said half inquiringly, half in assertion, and with an arch look and smile.

“Yes; there may be exceptions to the rule,” he replied returning the smile.

“Now we have talked long enough on this subject and must begin to put in practice the rule I have just laid down.”