'How kind of you to have taken this trouble! You guessed that I really wished to see you. I should have come to you, but just at present I find it so difficult to get away from home. I am housekeeper, nursemaid, and governess all in one! Some women would find it rather a strain, but the dear tots are so good--so good! Cissy, you remember Miss Shepperson? Of course you do. They look a little pale, I'm afraid; don't you think so? After the life they were accustomed to--but we won't talk about _that_. Tots, school-time is over for this morning. You can't go out, my poor dears; look at the horrid, horrid weather. Go and sit by the nursery-fire, and sing "Rain, rain, go away!"' Miss Shepperson followed the children with her look as they silently left the room. She knew not how to enter upon what she had to say. To talk of the law and use threats in this atmosphere of serene domesticity seemed impossibly harsh. But the necessity of broaching the disagreeable subject was spared her. 'My husband and I were talking about you last night,' began Mrs. Rymer, as soon as the door had closed, in a tone of the friendliest confidence. 'I had an idea; it seems to me so good. I wonder whether it will to you? You told me, did you not, that you live in lodgings, and quite alone?' 'Yes,' replied Miss Shepperson, struggling to command her nerves and betraying uneasy wonder. 'Is it by choice?' asked the soft-voiced lady, with sympathetic bending of the head. 'Have you no relations in London? I can't help thinking you must feel very lonely.' It was not difficult to lead Miss Shepperson to talk of her circumstances--a natural introduction to the announcement which she was still resolved to make with all firmness. She narrated in outline the history of her family, made known exactly how she stood in pecuniary matters, and ended by saying-- 'You see, Mrs. Rymer, that I have to live as carefully as I can. This house is really all I have to depend upon, and--and--'