Her voice broke; she sobbed, and rebuked herself for weakness, and sobbed again.  Meanwhile Mr. Rymer stood holding out banknotes and gold.  The distracted Miss Shepperson made a wild gesture.

’How can I take it?  How can I?  I should be ashamed the longest day I lived!’

‘I must insist,’ said Mr. Rymer firmly; and his wife, calm again, echoed the words.  In that moment Miss Shepperson clutched at the notes and gold, and, with a quick step forward, took hold of the baby’s hand, making the little fingers close upon the money.

‘There!  I give it to little Dora—­there!’

Mr. Rymer turned away to hide his emotion.  Mrs. Rymer laid baby down on the sofa, and clasped Miss Shepperson in her arms.

* * * * *

A few days later the house at Hammersmith was vacant.  The Rymers wrote from Birmingham that they had found sufficient, though humble, lodgings, and were looking for a tiny house, which they would furnish very, very simply with the money given to baby by their ever dear friend.  It may be added that they had told the truth regarding their position—­save as to one detail:  Mr. Rymer thought it needless to acquaint Miss Shepperson with the fact that his brother, a creditor for three hundred pounds, had generously forgiven the debt.

Miss Shepperson, lodging in a little bedroom, with an approving conscience to keep her company, hoped that her house would soon be let again.

A DAUGHTER OF THE LODGE

For a score of years the Rocketts had kept the lodge of Brent Hall.  In the beginning Rockett was head gardener; his wife, the daughter of a shopkeeper, had never known domestic service, and performed her duties at the Hall gates with a certain modest dignity not displeasing to the stately persons upon whom she depended.  During the lifetime of Sir Henry the best possible understanding existed between Hall and lodge.  Though Rockett’s health broke down, and at length he could work hardly at all, their pleasant home was assured to the family; and at Sir Henry’s death the nephew who succeeded him left the Rocketts undisturbed.  But, under this new lordship, things were not quite as they had been.  Sir Edwin Shale, a middle-aged man, had in his youth made a foolish marriage; his lady ruled him, not with the gentlest of tongues, nor always to the kindest purpose, and their daughter, Hilda, asserted her rights as only child with a force of character which Sir Edwin would perhaps have more sincerely admired had it reminded him less of Lady Shale.