"I must be firm," Miss Shepperson told herself, as she poured out her morning tea with unsteady hand. "I must really be very firm with them."
Firmness was not the most distinct characteristic of Miss Shepperson's features, A plain woman of something more than thirty, she had gentle eyes and lips ever ready for a sympathetic smile. She was the daughter of a Hammersmith draper (布商)，at whose death, a few years ago, she had become possessed of a small house and an income of forty pounds a year. The house had, until recently, given her no trouble at all. It stood in a quiet part of Hammersmith, and had long been occupied by good tenants, who paid rent (fifty pounds) with punctuality. Repairs, of course, would now and then called for, and to that end Miss Shepperson carefully put aside a few pounds every year. Unhappily, the old tenants were at length obliged to move out. The house stood empty for two months. It was then taken on a three years' lease by a family named Rymer. "Really nice people," said Miss Shepperson to herself with satisfaction after her first interview with them. Mr. Rymer was "in the City." Mrs. Rymer, mother of two little girls, lived only for domestic peace, forgetting all worldly ambition in the happy discharge of her wifely and parental duties.
The first quarter's rent was duly paid, but the second quarter-day brought no cheque; and, after the lapse of a fortnight，Miss Shepperson wrote to make known her naive fear that Mr Rymer's letter might have miscarried. At once there came the politest and friendliest reply. Mr. Rymer (wrote his wife) was out of town，and had been so overwhelmed with business that the matter of the rent must have altogether escaped his mind. He would be back in a day or two, and the cheque should be sent at the earliest possible moment; a thousand apologies for this unpardonable neglect. Still the cheque did not come; another quarter-day arrived, and again no rent was paid. It was now a month after Christmas, and Miss Shepperson, for the first time in her life, found her accounts in serious disorder. This morning she had a letter from Mrs. Rymer, the latest of a dozen or so, all in the same strain.
"I really feel quite ashamed to take up the pen," wrote the graceful lady, in her delicate hand. "What must you think of us! I assure you that never, never before did I find myself in such a situation. Indeed, I should not have the courage to write at all, but that the end of our troubles is already in view. It is absolutely certain that, in a months time, Mr. Rymer will be able to send you a cheque in complete settlement of his debt. Meanwhile, I beg you to believe, dear Miss Shepperson, how very, very grateful I am to you for your most kind tolerance," The letter was closed with the touching subscription, "ever yours, sincerely and gratefully, Adelaide Rymer."
But Miss Shepperson's faith in the Rymers' promises was exhausted. This very morning she would go to see Mrs. Rymer, lay before her the plain facts of the case, and with all firmness——with unmistakable resolve——make known to her that, if the overdue debt were not paid within a month, notice to quit would be given, and the recovery of the debt be sought by legal process. Fear had made Miss Shepperson furious; it was wrong and cowardly for people such as the Rymers to behave in this way to a poor woman who had only just enough to live upon. She felt sure that they could pay if they liked; but because she had shown herself soft and patient, they took advantage of her. She would be firm, very firm.
41. What can be inferred from Paragraph 2?
