“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.
“No, no, I will manage all your money for you until you come of age. This is only for your dress and pocket money. I shall give you another cheque to the same amount in six months’ time. It will be well for you to learn the value of things and to get into the way of keeping accounts. By the bye, though I say so much about its not mattering what you wear in Switzerland you must be sure to take good strong boots. You know Mr. Bruce Wylie is coming with us?”
“Yes,” said Evereld, “I’m very glad.”
“Well, good-night, my dear. God bless you,” said Sir Matthew. “Tell them I shall not be in till late.”
Evereld having delivered her message, went slowly upstairs to the school-room, the most homelike place in the whole house. Here she found Bridget sitting by the open window with her knitting.
“My new life has begun, Bridget,” she said, taking her usual place on her old nurse’s lap. “Look, here is money, a heap of it. I am to go out and buy thick-soled boots to-morrow with it, and an account book. Bridget, did you ever keep accounts? And do you ever think it’s allowable to cook them?”
“I can’t say, dearie, I never kept any at all, excepting it was the savings bank book which the post office clerks keep for one.”