"
The Angel studied him closely. "Well, maybe you are going to be a great
scholar," she said, "but you don't look it. Your face isn't right for
that, but it's got something big in it--something really great. I
must find out what it is and then you must work on it. Your father is
expecting you to do something. One can tell by the way he talks. You
should begin right away. You've wasted too much time already."
Poor Freckles hung his head. He never had wasted an hour in his life.
There never had been one that was his to waste.
The Angel, studying him intently, read the thought in his face. "Oh,
I don't mean that!" she cried, with the frank dismay of sixteen.
"Of course, you're not lazy! No one ever would think that from your
appearance. It's this I mean: there is something fine, strong, and full
of power in your face. There is something you are to do in this
world, and no matter how you work at all these other things, or how
successfully you do them, it is all wasted until you find the ONE THING
that you can do best. If you hadn't a thing in the world to keep you,
and could go anywhere you please and do anything you want, what would
you do?" persisted the Angel.
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