Birmingham had suggested 'an opening' in that city (thus did Mrs. Rymer
phrase it), and the commission-agent had decided to leave London as soon as
his affairs were in order. Towards the end of the third month the family
was suffering from hope deferred. Mr. Rymer had once more a troubled face,
and his wife no longer talked to Miss Shepperson in happy strain of her
projects for the future. At length notice arrived that the executors were
prepared to settle with Mr. Rymer; yet, in announcing the fact, he
manifested only a sober contentment, while Mrs. Rymer was heard to sigh.
Miss Shepperson noted these things, and wondered a little, but Mrs. Rymer's
smiling assurance that now at last all was well revived her cheerful
expectations.

With a certain solemnity she was summoned, a day or two later, to a morning
colloquy in the drawing-room. Mr. Rymer sat in an easy-chair, holding a
bundle of papers; Mrs. Rymer sat on the sofa, the dozing baby on her lap;
over against them their friend took her seat. With a little cough and a
rustle of his papers, the polite man began to speak--

'Miss Shepperson, the day has come when I am able to discharge my debt to
you. You will not misunderstand that expression--I speak of my debt in
money. What I owe to you--what we all owe to you--in another and a higher
sense, can never be repaid. That moral debt must still go on, and be
acknowledged by the unfailing gratitude of a lifetime.'

'Of a lifetime,' repeated Mrs. Rymer, sweetly murmuring, and casting
towards her friend an eloquent glance.

'Here, however,' resumed her husband, 'is the pecuniary account. Will you
do me the kindness, Miss Shepperson, to glance it over and see if you find
it correct?'

Miss Shepperson took the paper, which was covered with a very neat array of
figures. It was the same calculation which she herself had so often made,
but with interest on the money due to her correctly computed. The weekly
sum of fifteen shillings for board and lodging had been deducted,
throughout the whole time, from the rent due to her as landlady. Mr. Rymer
stood her debtor for not quite thirty pounds.

'It's _quite_ correct,' said Miss Shepperson, handing back the paper with a
pleased smile.

Mr. Rymer turned to his wife.

'And what do _you_ say, dear? Do _you_ think it correct?'

Mrs. Rymer shook her head.

'No,' she answered gently, 'indeed I do not.'

Miss Shepperson was startled. She looked from one to the other, and saw on