married to London tradesmen, but she did not see very much of them, for
their ways were not hers, and Miss Shepperson had always been one of those
singular persons who shrink into solitude the moment they feel ill at ease.
The house which was her property had, until of late, given her no trouble
at all; it stood in a quiet part of Hammersmith, and had long been occupied
by good tenants, who paid their rent (fifty pounds) with exemplary
punctuality; repairs, of course, would now and then be called for, and to
that end Miss Shepperson carefully put aside a few pounds every year.
Unhappily, the old tenants were at length obliged to change their abode.
The house stood empty for two months; it was then taken on a three years'
lease by a family named Rymer--really nice people, said Miss Shepperson to
herself after her first interview with them. Mr. Rymer was 'in the City';
Mrs. Rymer, who had two little girls, lived only for domestic peace--she
had been in better circumstances, but did not repine, and forgot all
worldly ambition in the happy discharge of her wifely and maternal duties.
'A charming family!' was Miss Shepperson's mental comment when, at their
invitation, she had called one Sunday afternoon soon after they were
settled in the house; and, on the way home to her lodgings, she sighed once
or twice, thinking of Mrs. Rymer's blissful smile and the two pretty
children.

The first quarter's rent was duly paid, but the second quarter-day brought
no cheque; and, after the lapse of a fortnight, Miss Shepperson wrote to
make known her ingenuous fear that Mr. Rymer's letter might have
miscarried. At once there came the politest and friendliest reply. Mr.
Rymer (wrote his wife) was out of town, and had been so overwhelmed with
business that the matter of the rent must have altogether escaped his mind;
he would be back in a day or two, and the cheque should be sent at the
earliest possible moment; a thousand apologies for this unpardonable
neglect. Still the cheque did not come; another quarter-day arrived, and