manner showed more self-confidence. Once a month she succeeded in getting a
few hours' holiday, and paid a visit to one or the other of her sisters;
but to neither of them did she tell the truth regarding her position in the
house at Hammersmith. Now and then, when every one else under the roof was
asleep, she took from a locked drawer in her bedroom a little account-book,
and busied herself with figures. This she found an enjoyable moment; it was
very pleasant indeed to make the computation of what the Rymers owed to
her, a daily-growing debt of which the payment could not now be long
delayed. She did not feel quite sure with regard to the interest, but the
principal of the debt was very easily reckoned, and it would make a nice
little sum to put by. Certainly Miss Shepperson was not unhappy.

Mrs. Rymer was just able to resume her normal habits, to write many
letters, teach her children, pay visits in distant parts of London--the
care of the baby being still chiefly left to Miss Shepperson--when, on a
pleasant day of spring, a little before lunch-time, Mr. Rymer rushed into
the house, calling in an agitated voice his wife's name. Miss Shepperson
was the only person at home, for Mrs. Rymer had gone out with the children,
the servant accompanying her to wheel baby's perambulator; she ran up from
the kitchen, aproned, with sleeves rolled to the elbow, and met the excited
man as he descended from a vain search in the bedrooms.

'Has it happened?' she cried--for it seemed to her that there could be only
one explanation of Mr. Rymer's behaviour.

'Yes! He died this morning--this morning!'

They clasped hands; then, as an afterthought, their eyes fell, and they
stood limply embarrassed.