Always ready at a kind word to forgive her sister for any amount of unkindness, Agnes decided at once to go, feeling that it would be some comfort to escape from the dreadful bugs. She did not think they had yet reached Rothsay; but she meant to make it her first business to hunt for them, and equipped herself with all the ingredients named in the category for their extirpation. Persian powder, red pepper, Scotch snuff, cut tobacco, Paris green, hellebore, and even Prussic acid formed a portion of her luggage when she reached the Forrest House, and found her sister so ill and weak that for a time she had no thought for carpet-bugs, and had there been an army there they would have reveled in perfect security for all of her interference. But after a few days, when Josephine seemed better and was sleeping quietly, the desire for research and battle came upon her again, incited by the softness of the velvet carpet in her sister’s room, which she thought furnished such a rich field for the marauders. As it happened, the bay window was the point at which she commenced operations, as it was farthest from Josephine’s bed. “They have been here, too,” was her whispered exclamation as she caught sight of the familiar sign, the carpet loosened from the floor; and eager in her search she turned the carpet back farther and farther until she saw the corner of the letter just protruding in sight. To draw it out and glance at the name upon it, “J. Everard Forrest,” was the work of a moment, and then she wondered how it came there, and if it were some old thing received by Everard years ago, and left lying about as something of no interest to him or anybody. It looked old and worn, and as if it had been read many times. Surely there could be no harm in her glancing at the contents just to see if it were of any value.