Part 6 (2/2)

”I must have stayed there till the folks came from the hay-field. I should have pretty near died of fright. Mother, who is that little girl?”

Then Mrs. Rowles remembered her niece.

Juliet had remained within a few paces of the dog, and stood like a statue, looking straight before her, as if she did not wish to see Mrs. Rowles and Emily. Her face was pale now, her mouth set, and her brows knitted with their most sullen expression. Her aspect was anything but attractive.

”Come here, Juliet, my dear,” her aunt called out. ”Let me thank you and kiss you.”

Juliet did not stir.

”I want to thank you and--” Emily, clasped in her mother's arms, could not bring herself to add ”kiss you.”

”I don't want no thanks and no kisses,” said the London child.

”Oh, but you have been so brave and good.”

”I'm not a screaming coward like _her_,” said Juliet; ”that's all. Are we going to stay here all night?”

Emily whispered to her mother, ”Who is she?”

”Your poor cousin from London. You must be _very_ kind to her, poor girl; she is _so_ disagreeable.”

Emily looked with a sort of awe at her sullen cousin.

Then Mrs. Rowles set her own child on the ground, and went and put her hand on Juliet's shoulder, saying, ”Emily wants to thank you for being so brave. You _have_ a spirit of your own!”

Juliet coloured as if angry at being praised, and said, ”It ain't no use to have a spirit when you are stupid and awkward. I tore my sleeve with pulling at that dog.”

”Oh, that is nothing; that can be mended. Now we must be getting home, or father will wonder where we are.”

They went through the gate at the further side of the farm, and came out into fields. In one of these, but at a little distance, they saw the farmer and all his men and maids busily turning over the hay that it might be well dried by the early sun next morning. Juliet asked no questions, though she was surprised at every step by strange country customs; and it did not cross the minds of Mrs. Rowles and Emily to explain what they themselves knew so well. Indeed, Emily was still trembling from the fright she had undergone, and Mrs. Rowles's thoughts were fully occupied.

They came to a stile over which they climbed, Juliet so awkwardly that she slipped into a ditch among sting-nettles.

”Oh, the horrid things!” she exclaimed; ”they've bitten me!”

”It is only nettles,” said her aunt; ”you've got stung.”

”I see the marks of their teeth,” persisted Juliet, rubbing the little spots made by the nettles.

Emily would have laughed at her cousin, but that she felt too much depressed by her own adventure.

And then they were on the towing-path, and the great river, all glowing with the reflected gold and red of the sunset sky, was gliding past them on its peaceful way.

”There!” said Mrs. Rowles, ”do you know what that is, Juliet?”

”A river.”

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