‘Oh, Mr. Rymer!’ panted the good woman, turning pale with astonishment.

‘Why, of course!’ exclaimed Mrs. Rymer.  ’Do you think it would be possible for us to behave in any other way?  Surely you know us too well, dear Miss Shepperson!’

‘How kind you are!’ faltered their friend, unable to decide in herself whether she should accept this generosity or not—­sorely tempted by the money, yet longing to show no less generous a spirit on her own side.  ’I really don’t know—­’

Mr. Rymer imposed silence with a wave of the hand, and began talking in a slow, grave way.

’Miss Shepperson, to-day I may account myself a happy man.  Listen to a very singular story.  You know that I was indebted to others besides you.  I have communicated with all those persons; I have drawn up a schedule of everything I owe; and—­extraordinary coincidence!—­the sum-total of my debts is exactly that of the reversion upon which I have entered, minus three pounds fourteen shillings.’

‘Strange!’ murmured Mrs. Rymer, as if delightedly.

’I did not know, Miss Shepperson, that I owed so much.  I had forgotten items.  And suppose, after all, the total had exceeded my resources!  That indeed would have been a blow.  As it is, I am a happy man; my wife is happy.  We pay our debts to the last farthing, and we begin the world again—­with three pounds to the good.  Our furniture must go; I cannot redeem it; no matter.  I owe nothing; our honour is saved!’

Miss Shepperson was aghast.

‘But, Mrs. Rymer,’ she began, ‘this is dreadful!  What are you going to do?’

‘Everything is arranged, dear friend,’ Mrs. Rymer replied.  ’My husband has a little post in Birmingham, which will bring him in just enough to support us in the most modest lodgings.  We cannot hope to have a house of our own, for we are determined never again to borrow—­and, indeed, I do not know who would lend to us.  We are poor people, and must live as poor people do.  Miss Shepperson, I ask one favour of you.  Will you permit us to leave your house without the customary notice?  We should feel very grateful.  To-day I pay Susan, and part with her; to-morrow we must travel to Birmingham.  The furniture will be removed by the people who take possession of it—­’

Miss Shepperson was listening with a bewildered look.  She saw Mr. Rymer stand up.

‘I will now,’ he said, ‘pay you the rent from the day—­’

‘Oh, Mr. Rymer!’ cried the agitated woman.  ’How can I take it?  How can I leave you penniless?  I should feel it a downright robbery, that I should!’

‘Miss Shepperson,’ exclaimed Mrs. Rymer in soft reproach, ’don’t you understand how much better it is to pay all we owe, even though it does leave us penniless?  Why, even darling baby’—­she kissed it—­’would say so if she could speak, poor little mite.  Of course you will accept the money; I insist upon it.  You won’t forget us.  We will send you our address, and you shall hear of your little godchild—­’