here.
Although, as Mr. Thoburn said, his nose was always cold in winter, and
nature never did anything for IT.

Mr. von Inwald was still there, and not troubling himself to be
agreeable to any but the Jennings family. He and Mr. Pierce carefully
avoided each other, but I knew well enough that only policy kept them
apart. Both of them, you see, were working for something.

Miss Cobb came to the spring-house early Friday morning, and from the
way she came in and shut the door I knew she had something on her mind.
She walked over to where I was polishing the brass railing around the
spring--it had been the habit of years, and not easy to break--and stood
looking at me and breathing hard.

"Minnie," she exclaimed, "I have found the thief!"

"Lord have mercy!" I said, and dropped the brass polish.

"I have found the thief!" she repeated firmly. "Minnie, our sins always
find us out."

"I guess they do," I said shakily, and sat down on the steps to the
spring. "Oh, Miss Cobb, if only he would use a little bit of sense!"

"He?" she said. "HE nothing! It's that Summers woman I'm talking about,
Minnie. I knew that woman wasn't what she ought to be the minute I set
eyes on her."

"The Summers woman!" I repeated.

Miss Cobb leaned over the railing and shook a finger in my face.

"The Summers woman," she said. "One of the chambermaids found my--my
PROTECTORS hanging in the creature's closet!"

I couldn't speak. There had been so much happening that I'd clean
forgotten Miss Cobb and her woolen tights. And now to have them come
back like this and hang themselves around my neck, so to speak--it was
too much.

"Per--perhaps they're hers," I said weakly after a minute.

"Stuff and nonsense!" declared Miss Cobb. "Don't you think I know my
own, with L. C. in white cotton on the band, and my own darning in the
knee where I slipped on the ice? And more than that, Minnie, where those
tights are, my letters are!"

I glanced at the pantry, where her letters were hidden on the upper
shelf. The door was closed.

"But--but what would she want with the letters?" I asked, with my
teeth fairly hitting together. Miss Cobb pushed her forefinger into my
shoulder.

"To blackmail me," she said, in a tragic voice, "or perhaps to publish.
I've often thought of that myself--they're so beautiful. Letters from
a life insurance agent to his lady-love--interesting, you know, and
alliterative. As for that woman--!"

"What woman!" said Miss