But she would not be discouraged, and she set manfully to work at her task. First she emptied all the contents of the cupboard on to the floor, and dusted out all the shelves. Then out of the dreadful heap upon the floor she selected all the books and carried them over to the book-case where they should have been, and made room for them upon the shelves there. This involved a good deal of time and labour, and arrangement of other books; and little Winnie, whose stock of strength was but small, began to feel tired already. Still she would not give up yet. She went down on her knees before the heap, and picked out all the unbroken toys and the most useful and respectable of the miscellaneous articles before her; and these she dusted and arranged upon one shelf by themselves. Broken toys and odds and ends which might come in useful, were placed in another; and a big heap of “real rubbish” began to grow upon the floor behind her. Then the string was collected and wound into little knots and put into a box; and by that time poor Winnie was so tired she felt almost ready to cry, and still a vast heap of queer things lay before her, which seemed as if it defied her to reduce to order. Her head began to ache and her eyes to swim; she felt as if she never should make an end of the task, yet she could not bear to give in. The door opened softly, and somebody looked in. “Well, Winnie, is the work done yet?” Winnie bent her head to hide the tears which stood in her eyes; but her voice would shake a little as she answered: “Not quite, mamma. There were such lots of things; I don’t know what to do with them all.” Mrs. Digby came nearer and looked at the heap and at the child. “I think, darling, you have done enough for one day. You are tired now. We will get nurse or Mary to finish the rest now.” But tired as Winifred was, she could not bear to give up before she had finished the work she had set herself to do. “Oh please, mamma, let me finish,” she cried, whilst a round tear splashed down upon the paper in her hand. “If other people finish it will spoil it all. I wanted to do it myself.” “But you are making yourself quite poorly, my darling. I cannot have you do that. Let me do it for you, and you tell me how to put the things.” “No, no. I want to do it all myself,” repeated Winnie with a little sob. “I’ve been very selfish to the boys--I’ve never done anything for them. Do please let me do this.” Mrs. Digby sat down near to the child, and answered very gently and lovingly, yet with a tone in her voice which made Winnie feel half-ashamed: “Well, darling, if you have set your heart upon it, you shall try a little longer.” So Winnie went to work again; but with less and less success. She could not see the things for tears, and a little voice in her heart, that sounded like the swallow’s, kept saying: “You ought to please your mamma, not yourself. Self-will is only selfishness in a new dress.”