e order is. Don't you know how good Uncle Roger's
apple-pies are?"

"O uncle!" cried Phoebe, clasping him closely round the neck; "how
good you are to me, Uncle Roger--custards and apple-pies, and
Cousin Mary-Anne!"

"Fair and softly," said her uncle, loosening her hold. "You haven't
heard it all yet, Phoebe. It is nearly a month till that, you
know. Well, you must promise me that every day of that month you
will please your mother by keeping your drawer, or whatever it is,
as tidy as a nut; and I must have from Mrs. Nott a good account of
your order and neatness. Mind, _every day_; no books lost, no
pencils falling off, else no apple-pies for you, Niece Phoebe."

Phoebe's face fell. "O uncle!" she said.

Her mother looked round again. "Roger, you spoil the child," she
exclaimed.

"Not if I teach her order, Sister Marjory," was his reply.

"I'll _try_, uncle," whispered Phoebe; and Uncle Roger kissed her.

You all know the difference well, I don't doubt, betwixt _trying_
and _doing_--how easy it seems to perform a promise at first, when
resolves are fresh and strong, but how each day takes, as it were,
a little bit of strength out of the wish to do the disagreeable
duty. Little Phoebe was truly anxious to overcome her bad habit;
and I can also say that, though apple-pies and custards, and her
dear little cousin Mary-Anne's company, had at first given her an
inducement to do so, yet after a little that part of it became very
faint indeed in comparison with the wish to succeed in fulfilling
her promise to Uncle Roger.

Difficult enough the task was; and sometimes Phoebe felt as if the
month would never pass. But the days went on somehow, and Mrs.
Copland was much amused, and secretly much pleased, to see the
important air with which her little daughter would retire daily to
her small bedroom, next her father and mother's, and after a great
deal of knocking about and noise overhead, would run downstairs,
and coming to Mrs. Copland, say, "Please, mother, come and look at
my drawer. I'm sure it's tidy."

After a little time had passed, Mrs. Copland explained to her
daughter the secret of true order; which is, not to keep things
untidy, and to have constantly to _put them to rights_, but to
_keep them right_--to put everything in its own place _at once_.
This was a new part to learn in Phoebe's lesson, but she tried it,
and heartily too; and things were going on in this way when, just
two days before the month wa