their faces only the kindliest expression.

'I really thought it came to about that,' fell from her lips. 'I couldn't
quite reckon the interest--'

'Miss Shepperson,' said Mr. Rymer impressively, 'do you really think that
we should allow you to pay us for your board and lodging--you, our valued
friend--you, who have toiled for us, who have saved us from endless trouble
and embarrassment? That indeed would be a little too shameless. This
account is a mere joke--as I hope you really thought it. I insist on giving
you a cheque for the total amount of the rent due to you from the day when
you first entered this house.'

'Oh, Mr. Rymer!' panted the good woman, turning pale with astonishment.

'Why, of course!' exclaimed Mrs. Rymer. 'Do you think it would be
_possible_ for us to behave in any other way? Surely you know us too well,
dear Miss Shepperson!'

'How kind you are!' faltered their friend, unable to decide in herself
whether she should accept this generosity or not--sorely tempted by the
money, yet longing to show no less generous a spirit on her own side. 'I
really don't know--'

Mr. Rymer imposed silence with a wave of the hand, and began talking in a
slow, grave way.

'Miss Shepperson, to-day I may account myself a happy man. Listen to a very
singular story. You know that I was indebted to others besides you. I have
communicated with all those persons; I have drawn up a schedule of
everything I owe; and--extraordinary coincidence!--the sum-total of my
debts is exactly that of the reversion upon which I have entered, _minus_
three pounds fourteen shillings.'

'Strange!' murmured Mrs. Rymer, as if delightedly.

'I did not know, Miss Shepperson, that I owed so much. I had forgotten
items. And suppose, after all, the total had _exceeded_ my resources! That
indeed would have been a blow. As it is, I am a happy man; my wife is
happy. We pay our debts to the last farthing, and we begin the world
again--with three pounds to the good. Our furniture must go; I cannot
redeem it; no matter. I owe nothing; our honour is saved!'

Miss Shepperson was aghast.

'But, Mrs. Rymer,' she began, 'this is dreadful! What are you going to do?'

'Everything is arranged, dear friend,' Mrs. Rymer replied. 'My husband has
a little post in Birmingham, which will bring him in just enough to support
us in the most modest lodgings. We cannot hope to have a house of our own,
for we are determined never again to borrow--and, indeed, I