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.”