"I dessay, sir. I know one thing--it was three weeks to a day after Molly went away that I first come 'ere, and I've 'ardly missed a night all the time. There was twice I couldn't git in for the snow, and I was 'most perished. When I did git in I was that numbed and froze that I could 'ardly move, but I knew I was done for if I didn't stir my pegs, so I put some sticks on the 'earthstone and set fire to 'em, and little by little I got thawed. It was touch and go with me then, sir, but I managed to dodge 'em that time. I don't know as I'd 'ave cared much one way or the other if it 'adn't been for Molly. Once there wos a gal she knew that throwed 'erself in the water, and she sed to me, sed Molly, 'It wos a wicked thing to do, Barbara,' she sed. 'There's 'eaven,' sed Molly, 'and there's 'ell,' she sed. 'If we do good things we go to 'eaven, if we do wicked things we go to the other place.' It's the way Molly used to talk to me that's kept me up over and over agin." I had made up my mind not to interrupt Barbara even when she wandered from the subject in which I was most interested. By doing so I might lose valuable suggestions to be gathered from her chance words, and I naturally wished to hear everything it was in her power to impart. Impatient as I was to learn more of Molly--who evidently was imbued with a strong sense of duty, and whose story, I felt convinced, had a direct connection with the mystery I was endeavoring to solve--I recognized the advantage of leading gradually up to it. It was by far the wisest plan to allow her to ramble on in her own way, and not to startle her by abrupt questions. "Why did you not light the fire in the stove, Barbara?" "I wosn't sech a mug as that, sir," she replied with a faint dash of humor. "When smoke comes out of the chimney of a empty 'ouse the peeler sez, 'Ho, ho!' and in he pops to find out who's done it. Wot'd become of me then, I'd like to know? They'd 'ave made precious short work of me." "And you have not lit a fire in a stove all the time you have been here." "Never once, sir." "How did you manage for coals, Barbara?" "Well, sir, when I first come, there was a lot of coal in the cellar, and I used it all up. It lasted ever so long, but there was a end to it. Then I begun on the furniture and odd bits of sticks I found inside the house and out. Sometimes when it was dark and rainy I foller the coal wagons, and pick up wot drops from the sacks. Then there's dead branches; I've got 'arf a cupboardful downstairs." "What time did you come"--I hesitated at the word--"home to-night?" "Past one, I think, sir. I kep' out late trying to sell my matches, but I 'ad to give it up for a bad job." "It was you we heard moving about?"