is face so well. And singing a
little song to herself, Phoebe sat down at her bedroom window,
opening her books out before her on her knee. But there were only
three books there, and she ought to have _four_.

How Phoebe sought for that book--through all her drawers and her
little room, then through the house, and lastly, down all the lane,
and by every step of the path through the fields which they had
crossed the evening before! Oh, what a weary search that was, and
what a sad story to tell her mother, when, _without_ the book,
Phoebe returned.

If Mrs. Copland looked so vexed, what would Uncle Roger be? And
then all the happy birthday pleasures which she had lost! She would
have to dine with little Charlie, she knew, and to feel as if in
disgrace all day; and in disgrace even Lady's Mead itself could
bring her no pleasure. Poor little Phoebe!

Her mother would not allow her to stay at home from school, but
said she must tell Mrs. Nott the plain truth, and, if she had time
before the class began, learn the lesson from some of the other
girls' books. Fortunately, the missing task was that which Phoebe
had learned before leaving the school the day before; but, owing to
her haste and agitation, it was so incorrectly repeated that
Margaret Prettyman again triumphantly took her place at the head of
the class. It was hard enough to see Margaret's malicious face as
she pushed past, and Phoebe had much trouble in choking down her
temper and her tears at the same time.

The next day Esther Heywood came to meet her with a very sorrowful
face, and told her that Jem had been "all up the fields" the
evening before, searching the path they had gone by, and that he
had looked into every nook and corner he could think of, but he
could not see the book anywhere. His opinion was, though, that
Uncle Roger would never keep to his word; that he would never
disappoint Phoebe on her birthday for such a trifle.

Phoebe shook her head. "Uncle Roger always keeps his word," she
said. "I'll be in disgrace, I know, though perhaps I'll go to
Lady's Mead all the same; but that will be quite as bad as not
going at all."

Hardest of all it was when Uncle Roger came over that afternoon.
Mrs. Copland had to tell him the story, for Phoebe was so drowned
in tears that she could not speak a word. Uncle Roger looked grave
when he heard how it was, but soothed his weeping little niece
kindly, and gave her no reproof. He spoke little or nothing abou