By the time Cara was a tall girl of eight, her mother felt that her home for life was on the Lake of Lucerne, and had accommodated herself to this conviction. On holidays, she and Cara went boating with Fritz, or made excursions up the mountains, whither Cara pleased--everything was done with the view of pleasing the child, who, well cared for, well dressed, and well amused, was an amazingly pretty, headstrong, and unmanageable girl.--Only as far as her mother was concerned--she was still a little in awe of Frau Hurter, and of Jost’s grim wife. Cara had suffered herself to be taught her letters, and even mastered ‘Reading Without Tears’; but there she struck. History stories, and pretty maps were flouted, and flung on the floor, and to her teacher’s soft pleading--and even bribes--she interposed a will as hard and solid as a wall of rock. Cara persistently begged and teased to go to school in Mitzau; as usual she gained her point, and accompanied by her mother or Freda, went daily to an excellent seminary within a mile of Les Plans, where she associated with the children of the neighbouring farms. Among these, she soon became a prominent leader, and absorbed many facts and fancies, in addition to German Grammar, and the history of the Swiss Republic. CHAPTER XXVI Five times had the hill orchards blazed into blossom, the Alpine wild flowers spread their radiance over the slopes, and the white stillness of winter descended on the scene, and yet the English lady remained faithful to Les Plans. She had become a part of the household, but Cara, who adventured her young tendrils further than the farm, had many resources and associates in the neighbourhood--though her pretty mother contented herself with the company of Frau Hurter, her books, and her needle. Owing to an acute financial crisis, the piano had been sold. Letty had a horror of debt, and when she made reckless purchases, paid for her generosity by hours and weeks of close and incessant labour, the result being a wan face and agonising headaches. Then Frau Hurter, with downright speech, would drive her forth for walks, and clamour fiercely for half holidays. “_Mein Frau_, you will have an illness, and a bad one,” she would say; “and the doctors, they eat up money. Ach ye! you sit all day stitch, stitch. You must have our good fresh air and exercise, or you may die--and then where would Mitli be, and I?”