various portraits of people whom Miss Thorne did not know, though
she was a near relative of their owner, and two tall, white china
vases, decorated with gilt, flanked the mantel-shelf. The carpet,
which was once of the speaking variety, had faded to the
listening point. Coarse lace curtains hung from brass rings on
wooden poles, and red cotton lambrequins were festooned at the
top.

Hepsey came in to light the lamp that hung by chains over the
table, but Miss Thorne rose, saying: "You needn't mind, Hepsey,
as I am going upstairs."

"Want me to help you unpack? she asked, doubtless wishing for a
view of "city clothes."

"No, thank you."

"I put a pitcher of water in your room, Miss Thorne. Is there
anything else you would like?"

"Nothing more, thank you."

She still lingered, irresolute, shifting from one foot to the
other. "Miss Thorne--" she began hesitatingly.

"Yes?"

"Be you--be you a lady detective?" Ruth's clear laughter rang out
on the evening air. "Why, no, you foolish girl; I'm a newspaper
woman, and I've earned a rest--that's all. You mustn't read books