to a shade of seriousness. "Let me see--Monday--didn't it
rain?--Yes, now I remember; it was a dreadful day. Perhaps she took
cold. She's very delicate. Did she get wet in coming to your house?"

"I'm sure I don't know." There was a slight indication of annoyance
on the part of Mrs. Lowe.

"It was impossible, raining and blowing as it did, for her to escape
wet feet, if not drenched clothing. Was there fire in the room where
she worked?"

"Fire! No. We don't have grates or stoves in any of our rooms."

"Oh; then there was a fire in the heater?"

"We never make fire in the heater before November," answered Mrs.
Lowe, with the manner of one who felt annoyed.

Mrs. Wykoff mused for some moments.

"Excuse me," she said, "for asking such minute questions; but I know
Miss Carson's extreme delicacy, and I am fearful that she is sick,
as the result of a cold. Did you notice her when she came in on
Monday morning?"

"Yes. I was standing in the hall when the servant admitted her. She
came rather late."

"Did she go immediately to the room where she was to work?"