The mystery was solved a little sooner than was intended, through the following circumstance.
Mrs. Campbell, hard at work as usual, was one morning interrupted in her occupation by the entrance of the rent collector, who with his cross red face and inevitable book was seldom a welcome visitor among the poor.
"Called for the rent," said he gruffly.
"It is quite ready," replied the widow, reaching down a cracked teacup, into which she had put the required sum the night before, to be at hand when wanted.
"All right, missus! I've come to tell you the rent is to be raised five pounds a year."
"Oh no surely not," replied the poor woman, aghast. "I cannot pay more, and you promised it should not be raised for three years."
"Then you must be off; property is rising in this part of the town," was the only answer as he tore off the receipt; "plenty of room in the workhouse, failing other lodgings."
This parting piece of insolence went to the poor woman's heart like a sharp arrow, though she concealed her feelings till the man had departed. How dared he say such a thing, when she had always paid her rent like an honest woman! For the moment she forgot to lift her heart above, and her tears fell fast.
But Corrie's arms were soon about her neck, and the child's touch recalled her to herself.
"I will go to Oaklands this evening when Robin comes home, and ask to see the master; he will help me, I am sure, if he can, and will tell me what I had better do."