And there was a definite issue of veracity between him and his mistress.

I went down again, for the room was cold.
"He has some fever," I said.
"He is a lazy black hound," said Miss Caroline.
"He says you ordered him to stay in bed--threatened him and hid his clothes." "Oh, never fear but what that fellow will always have an excuse!" she retorted shortly.
Observing that she had a day's supply of wood at hand, I left, not a little annoyed at both of them.

I missed my coffee.
When I knocked at the door that evening, no one came to admit me.

I went in, hearing Clem's voice in truculent protest from a large room on the first floor which had been called the room of Little Miss.

I went to the door of this room.
Clem and his bed were there.