Mrs. Winston stopped suddenly, drawing in her breath. She looked
startled, as if she had been on the point of betraying a state secret;
then her eyes brightened; she began abstractedly to trace a leaf on
the damask tablecloth. "I have thought of just the thing for you," she
said, apparently apropos of nothing. "Why don't you buy or hire a mule
to carry your luggage, and walk from Switzerland down into Italy, not
over the high roads, but do a pass or two, and for the rest, keep to
the footpaths among the mountains, which would suit your mood?"

"The mule isn't a bad scheme," I replied. "A dirty man is an
independent animal, but a clean man, or one whose aim is to be clean,
is more or less helpless. If he has a weakness for a sponge bag, a
clean shirt or two, and evening things to change into after a long
tramp, he must go hampered by a caravan of beasts."

"One beast would do," said Molly practically, "unless you count the
muleteer, and that depends upon his disposition."

"I suppose muleteers have dispositions," I reflected aloud.

"Mules have. I've met them in America. But if you think my idea a
bright one, reward it by going with Jack and me as far as Lucerne.
There you can pick up your mule and your mule-man."

"'A picker-up of unconsidered trifles,'" I quoted dreamily. "Well, if
you and Jack are willing to tool me out on your motor car as far as
Lucerne, I should be an ungrateful brute to refuse. But the difficulty
is, I want to turn a sulky back on my kind at once, while you two----"

"We're starting on the first," said Jack.