She could not help reflecting that the months since the Easter holidays had wrought a very decided change in Sir Matthew, he looked worn and harassed, and as though he were longing for rest. He seemed, too, more fussy and dictatorial than ever, and Evereld’s heart sank at the prospect of travelling with him, for she knew that travelling is the great test of character. After the merry talk and the bantering discussions and the hot but always good-tempered arguments to which she had grown accustomed during the last fortnight, the talk which prevailed on various vexed questions, seemed highly distasteful. “I really think,” pleaded Lady Mactavish, in her grumbling voice, “that considering how very soon Minnie’s marriage will be following our return it would be most advisable to take at least one maid with us. There are so many little things Greenway could be getting forward with if she were at hand.” “Yes, Papa,” urged the bride-elect. “It will be a most awful nuisance if we have no maid with us.” “If you think you will always have a maid, my dear, to dance attendance on you when you are married, you will find you are mistaken. The wife of an officer in a marching regiment has to learn to be independent, I assure you. And as to taking a maid to Switzerland I shall not hear of such a thing. You would find her a trouble in the hotels, useless on the steamers, and upset by the long journeys. Why Evereld will be wanting to take her old nurse next!” Evereld laughed, but in her heart she would fain have had Bridget with her, for she loved her a great deal better than any other member of the household. The question was thoroughly threshed out, and many disagreeable things were said on both sides; then Sir Matthew laid down the law as to the size and amount of the luggage. “No great trunks, mind you,” he said in the voice that meant obedience at all costs: “a small portmanteau is all that can possibly be allowed. You don’t go to Switzerland to air your fine clothes but to enjoy yourself, and there is no enjoyment possible if you are burdened with luggage.” A long wrangle followed upon this, and at the close of it, dinner being over, Lady Mactavish rose with an air of relief and went away to discuss the matter anew with her daughters, and to murmur over Sir Matthew’s extraordinary fussiness. “The heat must be affecting his brain,” she said. “I never knew him so vexatious. What does he know about the clothes we shall require? And depend upon it he will be the first to complain if you look shabby. Evereld my dear, Sir Matthew is calling you I think. Run down and see.” Evereld returned to the dining-room where Sir Matthew was sitting over his wine. “In case I don’t see you to-morrow, my dear,” he said, “I will give you this cheque now. Get it cashed in five pound notes, they will pass anywhere.” “Is this for my journey?” asked Evereld, who had never received a cheque for a hundred pounds in her life.