At last Winnie could stand it no longer. She burst into tears and ran into her mother’s arms. “Oh mamma, I wanted to be good and kind, and I’ve only been naughty and disobedient. Why is it so hard to be good?” “Because, darling, we sometimes set about it in not quite a right spirit, or we let a wrong spirit creep in and master the right one, with which we started. Even in little, little things we must ask Jesus to help us with His Holy Spirit.” “I think I forgot to do that,” said the child. “It seemed too little to ask Jesus about.” “Ah! darling, we all make that mistake only too often in our lives; yet nothing is too little for Him to help us in.” Winifred looked up into her mother’s face, and said with a gravity beyond her years: “Mamma, I sometimes think there aren’t such things as _little things_ in the world. They seem little, but really they are quite big.” Mrs. Digby held her child closely in her arms, feeling that there was something strange in hearing so advanced a thought fall from such childish lips. Of late she had fancied that Winifred’s mind had developed rapidly. After a little silence the little girl said: “May Mary come now and finish the cupboard? I should like everything put straight before the boys come in.” With Mary’s energetic and willing help, the task was soon accomplished. Winifred directed operations, and the maid with her strong hands soon carried out all her wishes. Chaos resolved itself into order, and the cupboard soon became a pattern of neatness. It was so tidy that Winifred could hardly believe her eyes, and she could hardly believe, too, that everything except actual rubbish had been replaced. She returned to her nursery in a much happier frame of mind; and the delight of the boys on their return with their finished kite and tidy cupboard more than repaid her for her trouble. They had all taken tea together in the nursery by Winnie’s special request, after she had watched the flying of the kite from the window with the greatest interest. And the boys had been so kind and so merry, and had made so much of their little sister, and what she had done for them, that she went to bed in a very happy frame of mind, wondering how it was she had not thought more of being kind and useful to her brothers. CHAPTER V. LITTLE PHIL. It was not for several days after this that Winifred was able to pay her visit to the little sick boy at the lodge. It seemed as if the night-watch for the swallows, and the day of hard work which followed, had tired the little girl more than at first appeared, and for a good many days following she was very weak and poorly, and could only just creep from the night to the day-nursery and back again; and even reading story-books tired her head and made her eyes ache. The utmost she could do was to work at the red mittens she was knitting for little Phil, and it was not always that she could even do this.