'I really thought it came to about that,' fell from her lips. 'I couldn't quite reckon the interest—'
'Miss Shepperson,' said Mr. Rymer impressively, 'do you really think that we should allow you to pay us for your board and lodging—you, our valued friend—you, who have toiled for us, who have saved us from endless trouble and embarrassment? That indeed would be a little too shameless. This account is a mere joke—as I hope you really thought it. I insist on giving you a cheque for the total amount of the rent due to you from the day when you first entered this house.'
'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.