Time went on, and it was near midsummer. Of late Mrs. Rymer had not been
very well, and once or twice Miss Shepperson fancied that her eyes showed
traces of tears; it was but natural that the guest, often preoccupied with
the thought of the promised settlement, should feel a little uneasy. On
June 23 Mrs. Rymer chose a suitable moment, and with her most confidential
air, invited Miss Shepperson to an intimate chat.

'I want to explain to you,' she said, rather cheerfully than otherwise,
'the exact state of our affairs. I'm sure it will interest you. We have
become such good friends--as I knew we should. I shall be much easier in
mind when you know exactly how we stand.'

Thereupon she spoke of a certain kinsman of her husband, an old and infirm
man, whose decease was expected, if not from day to day, at all events from
week to week. The event would have great importance for them, as Mr. Rymer
was entitled to the reversion of several thousands of pounds, held in use
by his lingering relative.

'Now let me ask you a question,' pursued the lady in friendship's
undertone. 'My husband is _quite_ prepared to settle with you to-morrow. He
wishes to do so, for he feels that your patience has been most exemplary.
But, as we spoke of it last night, an idea came to me. I can't help
thinking it was a happy idea, but I wish to know how it strikes you. On
receiving the sum due to you, you will no doubt place it in a bank, or in
some way invest it. Suppose, now, you leave the money in Mr. Rymer's hands,
receiving his acknowledgment, and allowing him to pay it, with four per
cent, interest, when he enters into possession of his capital? Mind, I only
suggest this; not for a moment would I put pressure upon you. If you have
need of the money, it shall be paid _at once._ But it struck me that,