“Oh, yes,” with a shrug; “_cela va sans dire_; but I’m her only child, and it’s her business to look after me. Of course, she can’t help being poor, or afford to give me a good time, but I’m sure we could struggle along somehow in London. I’ve heard that it’s the cheapest place in the world, and I am so deadly sick of that odious Les Plans, with its horrible smell of cows and cheese; when there is a hitch about supplies, we have sausages, and smoked meat, and nasty Swiss messes. And, oh, I’m so tired of looking out on the opposite shore of the lake, with its black woods, grey mountains, and skim-milk sky. Give _me_ a good street!” “But, after all, Cara, you are not much at home; latterly you have lived chiefly in Lucerne, and I know you have visited Berne, Zurich, Interlaken, and Lugano.” “Yes--Switzerland--_toujours Suisse_! I am crazy to get out of this corner, and to see the world.” “You cannot expect to see much of the world on two hundred a year, can you? and you should think of your mother.” “Of course, but the Mum--well, she is no longer young, and she has had _her_ day--now I want to have mine!” So poor Letty’s attempts to satisfy the girl had been a failure; the influence of devotion, self-sacrifice, and example, was powerless against the giant Heredity. In mid-July there was a grand fête in Lucerne, and Mrs. Hesketh invited Letty and her encumbrance to a concert at the Casino, dinner at the National, and subsequently to see the illuminations, and return home by motor-boat. This programme was faithfully accomplished; at dinner in the restaurant of the hotel, Letty and her girl, were distinguished among a vast cosmopolitan crowd. When their coffee-cups had been emptied, Cara, in her most persuasive manner, asked leave to run away. “I want,” she said, “to go up to the Drei Linden and sit with Berthe, who is ill in bed with an abscess in her face. I’ll be back before you know I’m gone; I’ve seen the fireworks, and the lighting up of the old bridge, a thousand times, so if I’m late, please don’t worry. I shall probably stay and try to cheer up poor old Berthe.” “But, my dear Cara, should you be going about _alone_ at this hour?” asked Mrs. Hesketh in a tone of alarm. “What--in Lucerne! I should hope so. I know it from end to end, and I shall be perfectly _safe_, if that is why you are anxious.” When Cara had resumed her hat and scarf, the two ladies walked with her to the entrance of the hotel, and watched her trip across the tram-line, and vanish by the corner of the English church. “You see, the child has a kind heart,” said Letty, “and is ready to give up a gay evening, to go and sit with her sick friend.” “Yes,” agreed Mrs. Hesketh; “I own I am----” she was about to say ‘surprised,’ but hastily substituted the word ‘impressed.’ “Now, we may as well go on the Quai, and see what is to be seen.”