’I mustn’t disguise from you that the money, though such a small sum, would be useful to my husband.  Poor fellow! he has been fighting against adversity for the last year or two, and I’m sure no man ever struggled more bravely.  You would never think, would you? that he is often kept awake all night by his anxieties.  As I tell him, he need not really be anxious at all, for his troubles will so soon come to an end.  But there is no more honourable man living, and he worries at the thought of owing money—­you can’t imagine how he worries!  Then, to tell you a great secret—­’

A change came upon the speaker’s face; her voice softened to a whisper as she communicated a piece of delicate domestic news.

‘My poor husband,’ she added, ’cannot bear to think that, when it happens, we may be in really straitened circumstances, and I may suffer for lack of comforts.  To tell you the whole truth, dear Miss Shepperson, I have no doubt that, if you like my idea, he would at once put aside that money to be ready for an emergency.  So, you see, it is self-interest in me, after all.’  Her smile was very sweet.  ’But don’t judge me too severely.  What I propose is, as you see, really a very good investment—­is it not?’

Miss Shepperson found it impossible to speak as she wished, and before the conversation came to an end she saw the matter entirely from her friend’s point of view.  She had, in truth, no immediate need of money, and the more she thought of it, the more content she was to do a kindness to the Rymers, while at the same time benefiting herself.  That very evening Mr. Rymer prepared a legal document, promising to pay on demand the sum which became due to Miss Shepperson to-morrow, with compound interest at the rate of four per cent.  While signing this, he gravely expressed his conviction that before Michaelmas the time for payment would have arrived.

‘But if it were next week,’ he added, with a polite movement towards his creditor, ’I should be not a bit the less grateful to our most kind friend.’

‘Oh, but it’s purely a matter of business,’ said Miss Shepperson, who was always abashed by such expressions.

‘To be sure,’ murmured Mrs. Rymer.  ’Let us look at it in that light.  But it shan’t prevent us from calling Miss Shepperson our dearest friend.’

The homely woman blushed and felt happy.

Towards the end of autumn, when the domestic crisis was very near, the servant declared herself ill, and at twenty-four hours’ notice quitted the house.  As a matter of fact, she had received no wages for several months; the kindness with which she was otherwise treated had kept her at her post thus long, but she feared the increase of work impending, and preferred to go off unpaid.  Now for the first time did Mrs. Rymer’s nerves give way.  Miss Shepperson found her sobbing by the fireside, the two children lamenting at such an unwonted spectacle.  Where was a new servant to be found?  In a day or two