“It will soon be Truro,” she said; “and then there’ll be all that troublesome changing at Trewth. It’s really too absurd that one should have that all the time. Dear Louie! I wonder what she’s doing now—gone to look at the garden, I expect, like the dear girl she is. I hope they will give us the same rooms again this year. You wrote for them, didn’t you?” “Yes, dear.” “Because you know last year they tried to put those stupid Jones’s in, and if I hadn’t made quite a row about it they’d have turned us into the east wing with that great dreary sweep of sea and not a glimpse of the town in front.” He remembered that he had rather envied those rooms in front; there had been a magnificent view of the sea, and a little corner with an old greystone pier and red fishing-boats. Mrs. Maradick turned her attention to the girls. “Now, dears, come and talk.” They moved towards her, and sat one on each side, expectant. “I had your reports, dears, just before I left home, and they were both most satisfactory. Miss Maynard says about your French, Isabel, that you show some ability and great diligence. Which was Miss Maynard, dear, at the prize-giving? That nice-looking girl with that rather smart frock? I remember noticing her at the time.” “No, mother, that was Miss Lane; Miss Maynard had pince-nez.” “Oh, yes; and beat time to the songs, I remember. As for the arithmetic——” He watched them, and knew that he had been forgotten altogether. Were other people’s children like that? He knew some little girls who climbed on to their father’s knee, and pulled his moustache and clutched his hand; but then, it must be largely his own fault, because he knew that if his girls had tried to do that he would have prevented them. He should not have known what to say! There was a wonderful glow over the land as they came into Trewth. Already he felt the breath of the sea and the salt sting in the air; down the long platform the winds came laughing and screaming round the boxes and the bundles and the absurd mortals who clung to their hats and cloaks and neatly bound hair. “Come, girls.” Mrs. Maradick collared her porter and shouted “Treliss!” into his ear. “Don’t forget anything, James. Have you my green bag and the little brown holdall? and—oh, yes—my black bag there on the seat.” She hurried down the platform. It was always at this moment that a general review took place, and you discovered whether there was going to be anyone you knew at Treliss. Everyone was waiting for the other train to come in, so that you had a splendid time for inspection. Mrs. Maradick was an adept at the difficult art of knowing all about people in half a minute without looking anywhere near them. “No, the Dalrymples aren’t there. I dare say they’ve come already. What a wind! Really, it’s most annoying having to wait. James, have you got all the boxes there? Twelve altogether, counting that portmanteau of yours——”