ople below him,
loving them with all his heart, and knowing just what would help them,
yet never being able to come near to them.

In one of the valleys of the great mountain lived a little maiden called
Beta. She was so small that most people thought her a young child and so
weak that she could not even carry a bucket of water from the well to
the house. Then too, she was a very plain looking little girl, not at
all pretty. Her mother used to say to her: "My dear daughter, you are
neither rich, nor clever, nor beautiful, therefore you must learn to be
useful to others if you would be loved."

The little maiden often wondered how she was to be of any use to the
people about her. She would say to herself, "I have no money to give to
them; my hands are not skilled enough to do much work for them and my
brain is not quick, therefore I can not give them beautiful thoughts
which will help them." Still she was a loving-hearted little girl, and
love, you know, always finds a way to be helpful.

One day it occurred to her that she could gather some wild flowers and
take them to the old woman who lived all alone at the end of the village
and who was so deaf that nobody ever tried to talk to her.

With this thought in mind she started out in search of the brightest
flowers she could find. She climbed the mountain side and gathered a
_whole armful_ of beautiful yellow golden-rod and purple asters and red
Indian pinks. These she carried joyfully to the little house at the end
of the village. They made the dingy old room take on a look of warmth
and happiness. Gay as they were, however, the face of the old deaf
woman was brighter still as she said, "Bless you, my child, bless you!
Who but little Beta would ever have thought of bringing flowers to me."

The next day Beta thought she would take some flowers to the blind
weaver who made all the carpets that the villagers used. "This time,"
she said to herself, "I must hunt for the flowers which have a sweet
odor, as he cannot see their gay colors." So she gathered some wild
roses and some sweet scented violets and some witch hazel. As she
entered his small shop he lifted his head from his work and said, "Ah
me, what is this I smell? It has been many a day since I have been near
enough to the mountain's own flowers to breathe in their perfume." Beta
placed them in a mug near his loom and as she ran home she was very
happy, yet she hardly knew why.

After this she went daily to the