le, rocking herself sideways over her work, and
with a worried expression of countenance, as if she were uneasy in her
mind.

"Aren't you pleased, mamma," said Beth, "that I should be left the
money?"

"Why, yes, of course, my dear child," Mrs. Caldwell rejoined. Her tone
to Beth had altered very much since the morning. Even in a few short
hours Beth had been made to feel that mere money was making her a
person of more importance than she had ever before been considered.

Her mother had stopped short, but Beth waited, and Mrs. Caldwell
recommenced: "I am delighted on your account. Only, I was just
thinking. The money is of no use to you just now, and it would have
made all the difference to Jim. He ought to be making friends now who
will last him his life and help him on in his career; but he can do
nothing without an allowance, and I cannot make him one. There is no
hurry for your education. In fact, I think it would be better for your
health if you were not taught too much at present. But you shall have
your aunt's room, Beth, to study in if you like. You may even sleep
there, although I shall feel it when you leave mine. It will be
breaking up the family. That remark in the will about proper privacy
seems to me great nonsense, and you know I am not legally bound to
give you a room to yourself. However, it was the dear old lady's last
request to me, and that makes it sacred, so it shall be carried out to
the letter. The room is yours, and I hope you will enjoy your
privacy."

"Oh, I _shall_," Beth exclaimed with uncomplimentary fervour.

Mrs. Caldwell sighed and sewed on in silence for a little.

"The dear old lady left you the money because she believed you would
do some good with it," she resumed. "'For the good of mankind.' Those
are her own words. And I do think that is rather your line, Beth; and
what greater good can you do to begin with than help your brother on
in the world? To spend the money on him instead of on yourself would
really be a fine, unselfish thing to do."

Beth's great grey eyes dilated; the prospect was alluring. "I suppose there
would not be enough for both of us?" she ventured tentatively--"enough
for me to be taught some _few_ things properly, you know--English,
music, French."

"On fifty pounds a year, my dear child!" her mother exclaimed
sorrowfully. "Fifty pounds goes no way at all." Beth sighed.
"Besides," Mrs. Caldwell pursued, "_I_ can teach you all these things.
You've got