e kitchen, struck twelve as little Phoebe came
into the porch.

This little girl, though, whose face was so sad, and whose
straw-hat hung so droopingly from her arm, was not like the Phoebe
of most days, who, on her return from school about this hour, came
popping her happy little face in at the door, and if dinner were
ready, would eat hers quickly, and be off again.

The kitchen at Simon Copland's was a long, large room, and had
great beams across the ceiling, from which hung hams and other good
things. Mrs. Copland was busy at the table, and near one of the
windows sat her brother, Phoebe's uncle, Roger, who lived some
miles away at pretty Lady's Mead, and who was very dear to his
little niece. To him, however, she had no mind to go at present,
and would have slipped upstairs; but he quickly spied out the
little figure in the doorway, and opened his arms to her, saying,
"Here's the little lass; give thy Uncle Rogie a kiss, Phoebe."
There was no escape for Phoebe, and in a minute more she was on her
uncle's knee, while his large forefinger was placed on the marks of
tears on her cheeks, and his kind inquiring eyes asked as well as
his words, "Phoebe, my lass, what ails thee?"

Her mother turned round from the table. "What is it, Phoebe?" she
said.

And then came a burst of tears from the little girl, and a
confession, poured into Uncle Roger's ear, of misfortunes that day,
and many days before, at Mrs. Nott's school in the village; how
diligently Phoebe had always prepared her lessons overnight, but
how first one book was lost, and then another; and how to-day,
because the pencil had been carelessly fastened to the slate, it
too had disappeared, and was not there when wanted, and in
consequence Margaret Prettyman had got above her--sly Margaret
Prettyman, who often did not learn her lessons at all, but kept her
place at the head of the class by writing down her task on a slip
of paper, and keeping it in her hand while she repeated it; and
how Mrs. Nott had said that Margaret was so tidy and Phoebe so
careless; and how she reproved the latter when the class was over,
and told her that, unless girls were tidy and careful, all their
learning was of no use. "Every girl ought to keep herself and her
things in apple-pie order," Mrs. Nott said. "And, O uncle," sobbed
Phoebe, "I know I'm careless, but I never can remember to be tidy;
and I can't keep apple-pie order, for I don't know what it is." And
so, with many more