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.
"I'd go to Chicago and sing in the First Episcopal choir," answered Freckles promptly.
The Angel dropped on a seat--the hat she had removed and held in her fingers rolled to her feet.