Gary pops one eye from under his pillow for a look at the clock. A groan, for it is almost time to get up. Under the pillow he goes again, hoping he can forget about school and getting up. His eyes close, and soon snores issue from under the pillow.

But if Gary thinks he has won his battle with the clock, he's wrong, for the alarm is set for six-thirty, and like it or not, that clock is going to ring at six-thirty. And being an electric clock, in good repair, the alarm is not going to run down. No use ignoring it, for its clatter will go on and on until Gary finally struggles out of the deep clutches of slumber and turns off the alarm. By that time Gary presumably will be awake enough to face the day.

That struggle with the alarm clock is not the only one Gary has each day. Under his bright sweater is something else that prods and disturbs him when he wants only to forget and be quiet. "Oh, come on, Gary, you can do better than that," it urges, when Gary does slipshod work in mathematics. "Watch it, Gary, your temper is getting out of hand," it advises, when that boy from around the corner starts yelling insults. "You are cheating," it says flatly, when Gary is figuring the tithe he should pay on his lawn-mowing earnings.

Yes, that conscience under Gary's sweater nags at him just like the alarm clock. It reveals disagreeable things in his character, just when he would like to forget. It is unflattering. It tells the unvarnished truth. It will not be stilled. It keeps him on his toes morally.

You see, Gary's conscience helps him take the first step toward overcoming. He has a "good conscience" that has been trained to recognize the difference between right and wrong, and to speak immediately when something is wrong.

Like the alarm clock, a conscience is a nuisance at times, for it disturbs us. But "disturbing" is the function of both the alarm clock and the conscience. And a disturbed conscience is the first step in overcoming temptation.