that light. But it
shan't prevent us from calling Miss Shepperson our dearest friend.'

The homely woman blushed and felt happy.

Towards the end of autumn, when the domestic crisis was very near, the
servant declared herself ill, and at twenty-four hours' notice quitted the
house. As a matter of fact, she had received no wages for several months;
the kindness with which she was otherwise treated had kept her at her post
thus long, but she feared the increase of work impending, and preferred to
go off unpaid. Now for the first time did Mrs. Rymer's nerves give way.
Miss Shepperson found her sobbing by the fireside, the two children
lamenting at such an unwonted spectacle. Where was a new servant to be
found? In a day or two the monthly nurse would be here, and must, of
course, be waited upon. And what was to become of the children? Miss
Shepperson, moved by the calamitous situation, entreated her friend to
leave everything to her. She would find a servant somehow, and meanwhile
would keep the house going with her own hands. Mrs. Rymer sobbed that she
was ashamed to allow such a thing; but the other, braced by a crisis,
displayed wonderful activity and resource. For two days Miss Shepperson did
all the domestic labour; then a maid, of the species known as 'general,'
presented herself, and none too soon, for that same night there was born to
the Rymers a third daughter. But troubles were by no means over. While Mrs.
Rymer was ill--very ill indeed--the new handmaid exhibited a character so
eccentric that, after nearly setting fire to the house while in a state of
intoxication, she had to be got rid of as speedily as possible. Miss
Shepperson resolved that, for the present, there should be no repetition of
such disagreeable things. She quietly told Mr. Rymer that she felt quite
able to grapple with the situation herself.

'Impossible!' cried the master of the house, who, after many sleepless
nights and distracted days, had a haggard, unshorn face, scarcely to be
recognised. 'I cannot permit it! I will go myself'

Then, suddenly turning again to Miss Shepperson, he grasped her hand,
called her his dear friend and benefactress, and with breaking voice
whispered to her--

'I will help you. I can do the hard work. It's only for a day or two.'

Late that evening he and Miss Shepperson were in the kitchen together: the
one was washing crockery, the other, who had been filling coal-scuttles,
stood with dirty hands and melanch