y, Mrs. Bryant, that I will owe it to my friend."

The storm had subsided into subdued grumblings. Their purport was,
apparently, that Mrs. Bryant liked lodgers who paid regular, and as for
those who didn't, they would have to leave, and she wished them to know
it.

"Does that mean that you wish me to go?" the young man demanded with the
readiness which was too much for his landlady. "I'll go to-night if you
like. Do you wish it?" There was an air of such promptitude about him as
he spoke that Mrs. Bryant half expected to see him vanish then and
there. She had by no means made up her mind that she did wish to lose a
lodger who had been so entirely satisfactory up to that time. And she
preferred to keep her debtor within reach; so she drew back a little and
qualified what she had said.

"Very well," said Percival, "just as you please."

Mrs. Bryant only hoped it wouldn't occur again. The tempest of her
wrath showed fearful symptoms of dissolving in a shower of tears. "You
don't know what work I have to make both ends meet, Mr. Thorne," she
said, "nor how hard it is to get one's own, let alone keeping it. I do
assure you, Mr. Thorne, me and Lydia might go in silks every day of our
lives, and needn't so much as soil our fingers with the work of the
house, if we had all we rightly should have. But there are folks who
call themselves honest who don't think any harm of taking a widow
woman's rooms and getting behindhand with the rent, running up an
account for milk and vegetables and the like by the week together; and
there's the bell ringing all day, as you may say, with the bills coming
in, and one's almost driven out of one's wits with the worry of it all,
let alone the loss, which is hard to bear. Oh, I do hope, Mr. Thorne,
that it won't occur again!"

"It isn't very likely," said Percival, privately thinking that suicide
would be preferable to an existence in which such interviews with his
landlady should be of frequent occurrence. Pity, irritation, disgust,
pride and humiliation made up a state of feeling which was overshadowed
by a horrible fear that Mrs. Bryant would begin to weep before he could
get rid of her. He watched her with ever-increasing uneasiness while she
attempted to give him a receipt for the money he had paid. She began by
wiping her spectacles, but her hand trembled so much that she let them
fall, and she, Percival and the candle were all on the floor together,
assisting one another in the search