Putting her head, ornamented with yellow curl-papers, round the door-post, she saw us seated there, and drew it away again. Her sleeves were rolled up, and she had on a coarse apron; altogether was not dressed for company. Letting the door stand ajar, she asked again if anything was amiss, and went on with her work at the same time: which sounded like chopping suet. Mr. Rymer replied in a curt word or two, as if he felt annoyed she should interfere. She would not be put off: strong-minded women never are: and he had to give her the explanation. A five-pound bank-note had been mysteriously lost out of a letter addressed to Mrs. Todhetley. The chopping stopped. "Stolen out of it?" "Well--yes; it may be said so." "But why do you call it mysterious?" Mr. Rymer said why. That the bank-note had not, in one sense, been stolen; since another of the same value had been substituted for it. Chop, chop, chop: Mrs. Rymer had begun again vigorously. "I'd like to know who's to make top or tail of such a story as that," she called out presently. "_Has_ anything been lost, or not?" "Yes, I tell you, Susannah: a five-pound note." Forgetting her curl-papers and the apron, Mrs. Rymer came boldly inside the room, chopping-knife in hand, and requested further enlightenment. We told her between us: she stood with her back against the door-post while she listened. "When do you say this took place, young gents?" "On Wednesday night, or Thursday morning. When the letter reached us at breakfast-time, the job was done." She said no more then, but went back and chopped faster than ever. Tod and I had got up to go when she came in again. "The odd part about it is their putting in a note for the same value," cried she. "I never heard of such a thing as that. Why not spend the other note, and make no bother over it?" "You would be quite justified in doing so under the circumstances, Mr. Todhetley," said the quieter husband. "But we can't," returned Tod, hotly--and all but said more than he was to say. "Why not?" asked she. "Because it's not ours; there, Mrs. Rymer." "Well, I know what I'd say--if the chance was given me," returned she, resenting Tod's manner. "That the note found in the letter was the one put into it at Worcester. Changed in the post! It does not stand to reason." "But, my dear----" her husband was beginning. "Now, Thomas Rymer, that's what I _think_: and so would you, if you had a grain of sense beyond a gander's. And now good-morning, young gents: my pudding won't get done for dinner at this rate." Mr. Rymer came with us through the shop to the door. I shook hands with him: and Tod's nose went up in the air. But I think it lies in what you see a man is, by mind and nature, whether he is your equal, and you feel proud to think he is so--not in the fact of his wearing an apron. There are some lords in the land I wouldn't half care to shake hands with as I would with Thomas Rymer.