And yet it was Clem, curiously enough, and not Miss Caroline, who found the season most trying.

True, he had to be abroad most of the time, procuring sustenance for the insatiable "Frost King," or performing labor for other people by which Miss Caroline should preserve her independence; but it was not supposed that a creature of his sort could be subject to weaknesses natural enough to a superior race.
I believe this was his own view of the matter; for when he admitted to me one morning that he had "took cold in the chest," his manner was one of deprecating confusion, and he swore me against betrayal of his lapse to Miss Caroline.
She discovered his guilt for herself, however, after a few days, from his very annoying cough.

She taxed him with it so sturdily that efforts at deception availed him not.

His tale that the snow sifted into his "bref-place" and "tickled it" was pitifully unconvincing, for his cough was deeper than Eustace Eubanks's proudest note in the drinking song.
"He's a worthless thing," said Miss Caroline, telling me of his fault, and I said he was indeed--that he hadn't served me four years without my finding _that_ out.

I added that he was undoubtedly shamming, but that at the same time it might be as well to take a few simple precautions.
Miss Caroline said that of course he was shamming, in order to get out of work, and that she would soon drive _that_ nonsense out of his head if she had to wear the black wretch out to do it.