Too Late

For a moment or two I could neither breathe nor move.

Then I felt my fear and unhappiness disappear,as I knew that I was no longer alone in my responsibility for Sir Henry.The dangers all around me did not seem so frightening.The cool voice could belong to only one man in the world.'Holmes!'I cried.'Holmes!'

I went outside the hut,and there was Holmes.He was sit ting on a stone,and his grey eyes were dancing with amuse ment.He was thin and worn,but bright and wideawake.His skin was brown from the wind and the sun.But his chin was smooth,and his shirt was white.He did not look like a man who had been living in the middle of the moor.
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'I have never been so glad to see anyone in my life,'I said,'nor so surprised.'

'I am surprised,too,'Holmes said,as he shook me warmly by the hand.'How did you find me?'

I told him about Frankland,and how I had seen the boy with the food.

Holmes went into the hut,and looked at the food,and at the note with it.' I guess that you have been to see Mrs Laura Lyons,' he said,and when I told him that he was right,he went on:' When we put together everything that each of us has discovered,I expect we shall know almost everything about this case.'

'But how did you get here?'I asked him.'And what have you been doing? I thought you had to finish your case in Lon don.'

'That is what I wanted you to think,'he said.
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'Then you have tricked me,and have no confidence in me,' I said.I was upset and angry because he had not told me his plans.

'I am sorry if it seems I have tricked you,my dear Watson.I did not want our enemy to know I was here,but I wanted to be near enough to make sure that you and Sir Henry were safe.You are a kind person—too kind to leave me alone out here in bad weather.Our enemy would guess I was here if he saw you coming out with food,or with important news.You have been a very real help to me.Your letters with all their valuable information have been brought to me.You have done excellent work,and without you I would not have all the im portant details I needed.'

Holmes' warm words of thanks made me feel much happier,and I saw that he was right.
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'That's better,'he said,as he saw the shadow lift from my face.'Now tell me about your visit to Mrs Laura Lyons.'

I told Holmes everything Mrs Lyons had said.

This is all very important,'Holmes said.'It answers ques tions I have been unable to answer、Did you know that Mrs Lyons and Stapleton are very close friends? They often meet,and they write to each other.Perhaps I can use this informa tion to turn Stapleton's wife against him…'

'His wife?'I asked.'Who and where is she?'

'The lady called Miss Stapleton,who pretends to be his sister,is really his wife,'said Holmes.

'Good heavens,Holmes! ,Are you sure?If she is his wife,why did Stapleton allow Sir Henry to fall in love with her?' 'Sir Henry hurt nobody except himself when he fell in love with her.Stapleton took care that Sir Henry did not make love to her.I repeat that the lady is his wife,and not his sister.They came here only two years ago,and before that he had owned a school in the north of England.He told you that,and you told me in your letter.I checked on the school,and found that the man who had owned it went away with his wife when the school closed.They changed their name,but the couple who were described to me were without doubt the Stapletons.''But why do they pretend to be brother and sister?' I asked.'Because Stapleton thought that she would be very much more useful to him if she appeared to be a free woman.'

Suddenly I saw behind Stapleton's smiling face a heart with murder in it.'So he is our enemy!He is the man who followed us in London! And the warning note to Sir Henry came form Miss Stapleton.'
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'Exactly,'said Holmes.

'But if Miss Stapleton is really his wife,why is he a close friend of Mrs Laura Lyons?'

'Your excellent work has given us the answer to that ques tion,Watson When you told me that Mrs Lyons was getting a divorce,I realized that she hoped to marry Stapleton.He told her that he was unmarried,and that he wanted to make her his wife.When she learns the truth,she may decide to help us.We must go and see her tomorrow.'
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Too Late

All rivers run into the sea

1. A bosom friend afar brings a distant land near. 海内存知己，天涯若比邻。

2. A common danger causes common action. 同舟共济。

3. A contented mind is a continual / perpetual feast. 知足常乐。

4. A fall into the pit, a gain in your wit. 吃一堑，长一智。

5. A guest should suit the convenience of the host. 客随主便。
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6. A letter from home is a priceless treasure. 家书抵万金。

7. All rivers run into the sea. 殊途同归。

8. All time is no time when it is past. 机不可失，时不再来。

9. An apple a day keeps the doctor away. 一日一个苹果，身体健康不求医。

10. As heroes think, so thought Bruce. 英雄所见略同。

11. A young idler, an old beggar. 少壮不努力，老大徒伤悲。

12. Behind the mountains there are people to be found. 天外有天，山外有山。

13. Bad luck often brings good luck. 塞翁失马，安知非福。
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14. Bread is the stall of life. 面包是生命的支柱。(民以食为天。)

15. Business is business. 公事公办。

16. Clumsy birds have to start flying early. 笨鸟先飞。

17. Courtesy costs nothing. 礼多人不怪。

18. Custom makes all things easy. 习惯成自然。

19. Desire has no rest. 人的欲望无止境。

20. Difficult the first time, easy the second. 一回生，二回熟。
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21. Do not change horses in mid-stream. 别在河流中间换马。

22. Do not have too many irons in the fire. 贪多嚼不烂。

23. Do not pull all your eggs in one basket. 别把所有的蛋都放在一个篮子里。(不要孤注一掷。)

24. Do not teach fish to swim. 不要班门弄斧。
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25. East or west, home is the best. 东奔西跑，还是家里好。

26. Experience is the best teacher. 实践出真知。

27. Fact is stranger than fiction. 事实比虚构更离奇。(大千世界，无奇不有。)

28. Faith can move mountains. 信念能移山。(精诚所至，金石为开。)

29. First impressions are half the battle. 先入为主。
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All rivers run into the sea

 
The Man on the Moor

drove out of Newtown and went to begin my search for the mysterious man on the moor.There were hundreds of the old stone huts on the moor.Barrymore did not know in which of them the mysterious man was living.I had seen the man on the night when Sir Henry and I had chased Selden,so I decided to start my search near that place.

The path I took ran past Mr Frankland's house,and I saw him standing at his gate He called to me,and invited me to go in and have a drink with him.He had been arguing with the police,and was angry with them. He began to tell me about it.
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'But they will be sorry,'he said.'I could tell them where to look for the escaped prisoner,but I am not going to help them.You see,I have been searching the moors with my telescope,and although I have not actually seen the prisoner,I have seen the person who is taking him food.'

I thought of Barrymore and Mrs Barrymore's worried faces.But Mr Frankland's next words showed me that I did not need to worry.

'You will be surprised to hear that a young boy takes food to the prisoner.The boy goes by at about the same time each day,and he is always carrying a bag.Who else can he be going to see—except the prisoner?Come and look through my tele scope,and you will see that I am right.It is about this time each day that the boy goes by.'

We went up onto the roof,and we did not have to wait long.There was someone moving on a hill in front of the house.I looked through the telescope and saw a small boy with a bag over his shoulder.He looked around to make sure that noboay was following him,and then he disappeared over the hill.wedding dresses,

'Remember that I don't want the police to know my secret,Dr Watson,'Frankland reminded me.'I'm too angry with them at the moment to help them.'

I agreed not to tell the police,and said goodbye.I walked along the road while Frankland was watching me,but as soon as I was round the corner,I went towards the hill where we had seen the boy.

The sun was already going down when I reached the top of the hill.I could not see the boy,and there was nothing else in that lonely place Beneath me on the other side of the hill was a circle of old stone huts.In the middle of the circle was one hut that had a better roof than the others,so it would keep out the wind and the rain.This must be the place where the mysteri ous man was hiding!I would soon know his secret.

As I walked towards the hut,I saw that someone had certainly been using it.A path had been worn up to the door.I took my revolver out of my pocket,and checked that it was ready to fire.I walked quickly and quietly up to the hut,and looked inside.The place was empty.
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But this was certainly where the man lived.As I looked round the hut,I knew that the mysterious man must have a very strong character.No other person could live in conditions as bad as these.There were some blankets on a flat stone where the man slept.There had been a fire in one corner.There were some cooking pots,and a large bowl half full of wa ter.In the middle of the hut was another large flat stone which was used as a table,and on it was the bag the boy had been carrying.Under the bag I saw a piece of paper with writing on it.Quickly,I picked up the paper and read what was written on it.It said:'Dr Watson has gone to Newtown.'

I realized that the mysterious man had told someone to watch me,and this was a message from his spy.Was the man a dangerous enemy? Or was he a friend who was watching us to make sure we were safe?I decided I would not leave the hut until I knew.
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Outside,the sun was low in the sky.Everything looked calm and peaceful in the golden evening light.But I did not feel peaceful or calm.I felt frightened as I waited for the mysterious man.

Then I heard footsteps coming towards the hut.As they came closer,I moved into the darkest corner of the hut.I did not want the man to see me until I had looked closely at him.The footsteps stopped,and I could hear nothing at all.Then the man began to move again,and the footsteps came closer.A shadow fell across the door of the hut.

'It's a lovely evening,my dear Watson,'said a voice I knew well.'I really think you will enjoy it more out here.'
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The Man on the Moor

The Escaped PrisonerMr Stapleton came to the Hall and met Sir Henry that same afternoon.The next morning he took us to the place where the evil Sir Hugo died.Then we had lunch at the House.Sir Henry clearly thought Miss Stapleton was very beautiful.His eyes followed her everywhere.He liked her very much,and I was sure that she felt the same about him.He spoke about her again and again as we walked home.After the first meeting,we met the Stapletons almost every day.

After a short time it was clear that Sir Henry had fallen deeply in love with the beautiful Miss Stapleton.At first I thought that Stapleton would be very pleased if his sister mar ried Sir Henry.However,I soon realized that he did not want their friendship to grow into love.He did everything he could to make sure that they were never alone.On one or two occa sions they did manage to meet alone,but Stapleton followed them and was not pleased to see them together.
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I soon met another neighbour of Sir Henry's.His name was Mr Frankland,and he lived about four miles to the south of the Hall.He was an old man with a red face and white hair.He had two hobbies.The first was arguing.He argued with everybody.The second hobby was studying the stars.For this he had a very big telescope.For several days he had been watching the moor through the telescope.He wanted to find Selden,the escaped murderer.Nobody had seen the prisoner for a fortnight,and we all thought that he had probably left the moor.

A few nights later I was woken by a noise at about two in the morning.I heard someone walking softly outside my door.I got up,opened the door and looked out.I saw Barrymore moving carefully and quietly away from me.I followed him,as quietly as I could.He went into one of the empty bedrooms and left the door open.I went quietly up to the door and looked in side.

Barrymore was standing at the window.He was holding a light in his hand and looking out onto the moor.He stood without moving for a few minutes and then he put out the light.

I went quickly back to my room.A few minutes later I heard Barrymore go softly by.

The next morning I told Sir Henry what I had seen.

'We must follow him and find out what he is doing,'said Sir Henry.'He won't hear us if we move carefully.',wedding dresses,

That night we sat in Sir Henry's room and waited.At about three o'clock in the morning we heard the sound of footsteps outside the bedroom.We looked out and saw Barrymore.We followed him as quietly as we could.He went into the same room as before.We reached the door and looked in.There was Barrymore,with the light in his hand,looking out across the moor,exactly as I had seen him on the night before.

Sir Henry walked into the room and said:'What are you do ing here,Barrymore?'

Barrymore turned round quickly,surprise and horror on his face.

'Nothing,Sir,'he said.The shadows on the wall from his light were jumping up and down as his hand shook.'It was the window,sir.I go round at night to see that they are closed,and this one wasn't shut.'

'Come now,Barrymore,'said Sir Henry.'No lies.What were you doing with that light?You were holding it up to the window.'
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I suddenly had an idea.'I think he was sending a message,' I said.'Let's see if there's an answer from someone on the moor.'

I held the light up to the window,and looked out into the darkness.Suddenly a light answered from the moor.

'There it is,'I cried.I waved my light backwards and for wards across the window.The light on the moor answered by moving in the same way.

'Now,Barrymore,who is your friend on the moor?What's going on?'

'That's my business,'said Barrymore,'I won't tell you.'

'Are you making some criminal plan against me?'Sir Henry said.
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'No,it's nothing against you,sir,'said a voice behind us.It was Mrs Barrymore.She had followed us and was standing at the door.'He's doing it for me.My unhappy brother is cold and hungry on the moor.We cannot let him die.Our light is to tell him that food is ready for him.His light shows us where to take it.'

'Then your brother is…'began Sir Henry.

'The escaped prisoner,sir.Selden,the murderer.He is my younger brother.He has done evil things,but to me he is still the little boy I loved and cared for.I had to help him.Every thing my husband has done has been for me.Please don't take his job from him.It's not his fault.'

Sir Henry turned to Barrymore and said:
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'I cannot blame you for helping your wife.Go to bed,and we'll talk about this in the morning.'

The Barrymores left us.

'The murderer is waiting out there by that light,' said Sir Henry.'He's a danger to everyone.I'm going to catch him.If you want to come with me,Watson,fetch your revolver and let's go.'

We left the Hall immediately.

'We must surprise him and catch him.'said Sir Henry.'He's a dangerous man.Now,Watson,what would Holmes say about this?Do you remember what the old papers said? They said the Devil does his work when the world is dark.'

The Escaped Prisoner

The Letter

The following day was dull and foggy.The Hall was sur rounded by heavy,low clouds,which opened now and then to show the grim,cold moor and its wet,grey rocks.The weather made us miserable.It was difficult to be cheerful when we felt danger all around us.I thougth of Sir Charles'death,and the awful sound of the hound,which I had now heard twice.Holmes did not believe that there was a supernatural hound.But facts are facts,and I had heard a hound.Was there a huge hound living on the moor?If so,where could it hide?Where did it get its food?Why was it never seen by day? It was almost as difficult to accept a natural explanation as a su pernatural explanation.
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That morning Sir Henry and Barrymore argued about Selden,the escaped prisoner.Barrymore said that it was wrong to try to catch Selden.

'But the man is dangerous,'said Sir Henry.'He'll do any thing.Nobody is safe until he is in prison again.We must tell the police.'

'I promise he won't break into any house,'said Barrymore,'and he won't cause any trouble.In a few days he will catch a boat for South America.Please don't tell the police about him.If you tell the police,my wife and I will be in serious trouble.'

'What do you say,Watson?' asked Sir Henry,turning to me.

'I don't think he will break into houses,or cause trouble.If he did,the police would know where to look for him and would catch him.He's not a stupid man.'

'I hope you're right,'said Sir Henry.'I'm sure we're breaking the law.But I don't want to get Barrymore and his wife into trouble,so I shall not tell the police.I shall leave Selden in peace.',ffxi gil,

Barrymore could not find the words to thank Sir Henry enough.Then he said:'You have been so kind to us that I want to do something for you in return.I have never told any one else.I know something more about poor Sir Charles'death.'

Sir Henry and I jumped up at once.

'Do you know how he died?'Sir Henry asked.

'No,sir,I don't know that,but I know why he was waiting at the gate He was going to meet a woman.'

'Sir Charles was meeting a woman?Who was the woman?'

'I don't know her name,'Barrymore said,'but it begins with L.L.'

'How do you know this,Barrymore?'I asked.
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'Well,Sir Charles got a letter on the morning of the day he died.It was from Newtown,and the address was in a woman's writing.I forgot all about it,but some time after Sir Charles died my wife was cleaning the fireplace in his study.She found a letter.Most of it was burned,but the bottom of one page was not burned.On it was written:“Please,please,burn this letter,and be at the gate by ten o'clock.L.L.”The paper fell into pieces as my wife went to move it.We don't know who L.L.is,but if you could find out,you might learn more about Sir Charles'death.We haven't told anyone else.We felt it would not be good for poor,kind Sir Charles.But we thought we ought to tell you,Sir Henry.'

The Barrymores left us and Sir Henry turned to me.'If we can find L.L.,the mystery may be at an end,'he said.'What do you think we should do,Watson?'

'I must write to Holmes at once,'I said,and I went straight to my room and wrote a letter to Holmes,which gave him all the details of Barrymore's story.

On the following day heavy rain fell without stopping.I put on my coat and went for a long walk on the moor.I thought of Selden out on the cold moor in this weather.And I thought of the other man,the mysterious watcher.

As I walked,Dr Mortimer drove past me.He stopped and said he would take me back to the Hall.

'I expect you know almost everybody living near here,'I said.'Do you know a woman whose names begin with the let ters L.L.?',wedding dresses,

Dr Mortimer thought for a minute,and then he said:'Yes,Mrs Laura Lyons.She lives in Newtown.'

'Who is she?'I asked.

'She's Mr Frankland's daughter.'

'What,old Frankland who has the large telescope?'

'Yes,'said Dr Mortimer.'Laura married a painter called Lyons who came to paint pictures of the moor.But he was cruel to her,and after a while he left her.Her father will not speak to her,because she married against his wishes.So her husband and her father have made her life very unhappy.'
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The Letter

Hey, ‘Bones,’ ” my brother, Parker, asked me, "what are you going to be for Halloween?" The elementary school party started at 7:00 PM. The winner of the prize for the most original costume got two free tickets for the Sunday matinee. Parker was dressed and ready to go. I watched him parade in front of the mirror in his pirate costume. He's so handsome, I thought. All the girls in the fifth and sixth grades were madly in love with him. I'd spent the afternoon defending myself from his rubber dagger.
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" I'm not going!" I replied.

" Why not?"

" No costume."

"That's dumb," he said. "You hardly need a costume. You're already a perfect scarecrow!" I was used to these observations. Furthermore, he spoke the truth. At twelve, I was already six feet tall and weighed eighty-nine pounds. Tack on red hair and freckles and it added up to one thing: I was a scarecrow.

School days were charged with searing taunts. "Down in front." "How's the weather up there?" "Are those skis or shoes?" It was hard to smile back, and even harder to make friends.
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I tried plastering my hair down flat on the top of my head and prying the heels off my shoes. I took scalding hot baths, hoping I'd shrink. In bed at night, I put my feet against the footboard, hands against the headboard and pushed, hoping to press myself back together. Nothing worked. So I saved nickels and dimes in a cider jug to pay the future surgeon who would find fame in Ripley's Believe It or Not by cutting six inches of bone from the legs of the tallest girl in the world and making her the same height as everybody else.

"When I grow up," I told Parker, as he brandished his cutlass in front of the mirror, "I'm going to live on an island where there's no one to stare." My brother raised his eye patch and looked at me hard.

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"Sounds awful," he said, and left for the party.

Alone, I listened to the cheerless night and pictured the costumes my classmates had bought. I had tried on a few, too, but nothing fit. I could picture my classmates in their costumes, having a wonderful time. As I wandered about the house, I remembered happier days-before Mommy and Daddy were separated. When Daddy lived with us, he always made me feel loved and wanted. Seeing him now for short visits wasn't the same. The more I brooded, the more my self-pity grew.

Then I spotted a broomstick standing in the kitchen corner. Maybe I could make a costume, I thought. Outside, a sheet and pillowcase billowed on the clothesline. I could be a witch or a ghost. Then my gaze fell on the back of the cellar door. My father's old plaid work shirt, faded overalls, jacket and cap were hanging right where he had left them.
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"I could be a hobo," I murmured as I buried my face in the dusty clothes. But Parker's taunt kept coming back at me. "You're a scarecrow." As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. Well then, a scarecrow was what I'd be. The closer I got to the school, the louder the cheers and clapping became, and the more my fears grew. What if they laughed at me? Worse still, what if they didn't do anything? Hiding behind the tool shed next to the gym, I pulled everything out of the pillowcase and started to dress. Because I was so tall, I could peek through the high window and see everybody taking turns on the stage in quest of the coveted prize. Ghosts, princesses, monsters, cowboys, soldiers and brides-they were all there, clad in store-bought costumes, fragile dreams for one night. My teeth were chattering. Would they clap for me? Would they whistle and cheer? My stomach ached from anticipation.
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I'll run home! I decided. No one would know I had been there. But Parker came on stage and glanced at the window. It was too late. He had seen me. If I left now, he'd call me chicken. I watched him bow to the audience and listened to the squeals from the girls as he leaped on chairs and tables and parried with his sword. Next, a small gorilla climbed on top of a ladder and ate a banana. Lincoln gave a brief address. Cleopatra danced with a rubber snake in her hands, and a soldier marched and twirled his gun. Only Tarzan remained.

Maneuvering carefully through the entrance, I went in, held my breath and prayed, Please, God, don't let me make a fool of myself. The applause was so loud for the King of the jungle when he gave his call and swung on a curtain rope that no one seemed to notice me walk slowly to the center of the stage. A pillowcase covered my head. With arms outstretched and hands clutching the broomstick inserted through the sleeves of an old plaid shirt, I wore a felt hat and faded overalls stuffed with straw. The room was suddenly still.
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Nobody clapped. Nobody cheered. The only sound I heard was the hammering of my own heart. I'm going to die, I thought, right here in front of everybody. The world was tilting, and my ears were ringing when the hood slid down my nose, just enough so I could peer through the eyeholes. And that's when I saw my classmates for the first time, as they really were. Petite blonde fairies with golden wands-and steel braces on their teeth. A baseball hero with a bat and mitt-and bottle-thick eyeglasses. A boxer with fighting gloves-sitting in a wheelchair. Someone asked, "Hey, who is that?" "Parker's sister!" They looked at one another, surprise brightening their faces. Clapping and cheering filled the room.

 My friend Peggy and I had both been to Paris before, but always as chaperones for youth groups or part of adult groups, seeing all the usual tourist sites and hearing the same tour guide recitations. This would be the first time on our own -- without responsibilities and free to go anywhere and try anything.
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On previous trips we had seen all the famous monuments and "tourist sights." The guidebooks claimed that locals were rude and indifferent to visitors but there had to be more to the people of Paris than that. This time we wanted to find the real Parisians.
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We spent some time exploring small shops and lesser-known museums and churches. We walked along canals and down narrow lanes, seeing a different Paris, but still not making any real contact with the people of this magnificent city.

One evening, with the help of the night clerk at our quaint hotel, we found a tiny cafe known only to locals. Nestled inside a dark passage, its unlit sign read, "Chez Maurice." We peeked in the small window on the door to see a small room with half a dozen tables, each with enough chairs for eight patrons. We opened the heavy door and went inside.
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We were greeted by a burly proprietor, whose smile faded when he discovered we were foreigners with a limited command of the French language. He turned his back and retreated to the kitchen, muttering under his breath and slowly shaking his head from side to side. Not a good start.

A moment passed and a young woman led us to our seats at the other end of a table already occupied by an elderly couple. She gave us two menus.

For a few minutes we struggled to recall a few French words, but discovered that the descriptions of each dish were too much for us.
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Our table mates noticed our dilemma. The old man leaned over and began explaining each dish, one at a time. Since he spoke very little English, his translations took the form of elaborate gestures and animal sounds. A fish entree was depicted as a fish swimming upstream, jumping and splashing in the water. For the beef dish, he pretended that his hands were horns on the side of his head, accompanied by a 'mooing' sound.

When the young waitress returned, we placed our order and our new 'friends' gave her explicit instructions on how to prepare the food and what side dishes we should have. Despite our limited ability to speak the other's language, we continued our lively conversation throughout the meal. We discovered that they were in their seventies and had been sweethearts for about ten years. She lived nearby in Paris, while he lived in the country. They met here once a week to share a pleasant dinner. Frankly, I have no idea how we understood each other, but we talked about the beauty of Paris, our lives and families, and of course, our other travels.
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Near the end of the evening, a flower vendor made her way through the cafe. We watched as the old gentleman purchased a bouquet. Artfully, he plucked two flowers from the bunch, presented the bouquet to his lady, and gave her a kiss. Then, bowing smartly in our direction, he held out a rose, one for each of us.

We had found our Paris.

"Just a few more minutes…please Mommy!"
Although my own children were grown, I found myself turning instinctively in the direction of the little voice. He was trailing after his mother, looking reluctantly over his shoulder at a display of remote control toys in the large department store.

He couldn't have been more than four years old. With chubby checks and wispy blond hair going in several directions, he trotted behind his mother down the main aisle of the department store. His boots caught my eye. They were green. Really green. Bright, shiny, Kermit-the-Frog, green. Obviously new and a little too big, the boots stopped just below his knees leaving a hint of dimpled legs disappearing into rumpled shorts. Perfect boots for the rainy transition from summer to fall.
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He stopped abruptly at a display of full-length mirrors, lifting one foot at a time, grinning and admiring his boots until his mother called for him to catch up to her. Dressed in a suit, heels clicking on the tile floor, she was tossing items into her cart as she and her son made their way to the checkout lanes at the front of the store.

I smiled at the picture he made clumping noisily behind his mother. I found myself wondering if she had just picked him up from daycare after a busy day in an office somewhere. I sighed as I selected an item and put it in my own cart. My days of trying to juggle a full time job and two small children had been busy, sometimes even hectic, but I missed them.
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Finishing my own shopping, I forgot about the little boy and his mother until I stepped outside the store. There a panorama unfolded before me. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, perforating the numerous puddles in the parking lot. Several mothers with their small children were hurrying in and out of the department store. The children were, of course, making beelines to the puddles that dotted their way from the cars to the store's entrance. The mothers were right behind them, scolding.

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"Ge"You'll ruin your shoes!"

"What's the matter with you? Are you deaf? I said, GET OUT OF THAT PUDDLE!"

And so it continued. The children were being pulled away from the puddles and hurried along. All except for one…the little green-booted boy.

He and his mother were not rushing anywhere. The boy was happily splashing away in the largest puddle in the parking lot, oblivious to the rain and to the people coming and going. His wispy hair was plastered to his head and a huge smile was plastered on his face. And his mother? She put up her umbrella, adjusted her packages and waited. Not scolding, not rushing. Just watching.
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As she fished her car keys out of her purse, the boy, hearing the familiar jingling, paused in mid-splash and looked up.

"Just a few more minutes? Please Mommy?" He begged.

She hesitated, and then she smiled at him.

"Okay!" she responded and adjusted her packages again.
By the time I got to my car, loaded my packages and was ready to ease out of my parking space, the green-booted boy and his mother were walking toward their car, smiling and talking.

How much time did that "few more minutes" take out of her day? Probably about five. Not so much time out of a busy day. So what if she got home a little later than she had planned?

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What a contrast the boy and his mother were to the other families I had just seen. What volumes that "few more minutes" spoke to that little boy about his value to his mother. Nothing in her universe was so pressing that it couldn't wait a few more minutes to let her young son try out his new boots-an important event in the life of How many times had my children begged for "just a few more minutes"? Had I smiled and waited like the mother of the green booted boy? Or had I scolded?

Just a few more minutes. Everything I have read about time management for working mothers can be summed up in one picture. The picture of that young mother standing under her umbrella, arms full of packages, smiling her assent to a wet, green-booted boy who had asked her the universal time management question for working mothers everywhere,

"Just a few more minutes?"