"Just using dress like everything else, as--a means of influence. I knew a lady who told me that since she was a child, she had never dressed herself that she did not do it for Christ." Rotha was silent and pondered. "Mrs. Mowbray, I think that is beautiful," she said then. "So do I, my dear." "But that would not make me like these boots any better." "No," said Mrs. Mowbray laughing. "Naturally. But I think nevertheless, in the circumstances, it would be better for you to wear them, at least during some of this winter weather, than to discard them and put on others. You shall judge yourself. What would be the effect, if, being known to have plenty of shoes and stockings to cover your feet, you cast them aside, and I procured you others, better looking?" "O you could not do that!" cried Rotha. "If I followed my inclinations, I should do it But what would the effect be?" Rotha considered. "I suppose,--I should be called very proud; and you, madame, very extravagant, and partial." "Not a desirable effect." "No, madame. O no! I must wear these things." Rotha sighed. "Especially as we are both called Christians." "Yes, madame. There are a good many right things that are hard to do, Mrs. Mowbray!" "Else there would be no taking up the cross. But we ought to welcome any occasion of honouring our profession, even if it be a cross." Rotha went away much comforted. Yet the clumsy foot gear remained a constant discomfort to her, every time she put them on and every time she felt the heavy clump they gave to her gait. Happily, she had no leisure to dwell on these things.