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.
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