ndoning
her studies. She had decided to fit herself for a teacher before Aunt
Jane's invitation had come to her, and this ambition would render it
necessary for her to study hard during vacations.

If she became an heiress she would not need to teach, but she was not
at all confident of her prospects, and the girl's practical nature
prompted her to carry out her plans until she was sure of the future.

In the hall she met Phibbs, shuffling along as if in pain.

"Good morning, miss," said the old servant.

Beth looked at her thoughtfully. This was Aunt Jane's special and
confidential attendant.

"Do your feet hurt you?" she asked.

"Yes, miss; in the mornin' they's awful bad. It's being on 'em all the
day, 'tendin' to Miss Jane, you know. But after a time I gets more
used to the pain, and don't feel it. The mornin's always the worst."

She was passing on, but Beth stopped her.

"Come into my room," she said, and led the way.

Martha Phibbs followed reluctantly. Miss Jane might already be awake
and demanding her services, and she could not imagine what the young
lady wanted her for.

But she entered the room, and Beth went to a box and brought out a
bottle of lotion.

"Mother has the same trouble that you complain of," she said,
practically, "and here is a remedy that always gives her relief. I
brought it with me in case I should take long tramps, and get sore
feet."

She gently pushed the old woman into a chair, and then, to Phibbs'
utter amazement, knelt down and unfastened her shoes and drew off her
stockings. A moment later she was rubbing the lotion upon the poor
creature's swollen feet, paying no attention to Martha's horrified
protests.

"There. Now they're sure to feel better," said Beth, pulling the worn
and darned stockings upon the woman's feet again. "And you must take
this bottle to your room, and use it every night and morning."

"Bless your dear heart!" cried Phibbs, while tears of gratitude stood
in her faded eyes. "I'm sure I feel twenty years younger, a'ready. But
you shouldn't 'a' done it, miss; indeed you shouldn't."

"I'm glad to help you," said Beth, rinsing her hands at the wash stand
and drying them upon a towel. "It would be cruel to let you suffer
when I can ease your pain."

"But what would Miss Jane say?" wailed old Martha, throwing up her
hands in dismay.

"She'll never know a thing about it. It's our secret, Martha, and I'm
sure if I ever need a friend you'll do as much