Part 13 (1/2)

”They are right enough,” said Juliet.

Then Mrs. Rowles turned and went away, wondering that so young a girl should be so hard, and totally unsuspicious of the resolve which was in that young hard heart.

It was a resolve which could not be put in execution at once; Juliet must needs wait for a favourable opportunity. Two days went by and she did not find one; then came a letter from her mother saying that if Juliet could find a situation in the country it would be better than coming back to overcrowded London, where young girls in swarms were looking out for means of earning their livings. Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l said little more; all were pretty well except baby, who was always poorly.

Juliet now considered that she had got a sort of permission from her mother to do what she wished to do. She thought she could defy her uncle and aunt if they found any fault with her actions.

The eventful moment arrived.

Mrs. Rowles and Emily had gone to the village to buy a few things for the lodgers who were expected shortly. Mr. Rowles was busy at the lock; Philip was going to take out the _Fairy_ for her first trip after her repairs.

Juliet came down from the attic. She wore her new-made frock, her re-trimmed hat, and carried a parcel containing the print ap.r.o.ns. Phil did not notice what she wore or what she carried.

”Take me in the boat, Phil,” she said coaxingly.

”I thought you had had enough of the boat,” he replied.

”But you will be in it, this time.”

”Oh, I don't want you,” said the boy.

”Well, then, just set me down on the opposite bank.”

”I don't mind doing that; but you may have to wait a long time before I come back for you.”

”All right,” said Juliet; ”I don't care how long you are.”

She stepped into the _Fairy_, and sat quite still while Philip rowed her to the far-off bank. Then she got out very gravely, and sat down on the gra.s.s until he was out of sight.

Fields came down to the water's edge. Where Juliet sat there was a muddy bit of gravel shelving to the river. She did not know what made this break in the bank. It had been formed by cows and horses coming down to drink. In the field there were now no animals; had there been she would have hesitated about remaining in it. But as soon as Phil had disappeared she stood and looked about her, and perceived that there was no living creature in sight, except the larks singing on high and the gra.s.shoppers chirping among the gra.s.s.

Juliet walked swiftly across the field to a gate which stood open, and through which she pa.s.sed. Hardly had she entered the second field when she saw at the further side of it about a dozen cows. Her heart fell.

Like most London girls she was horribly afraid of cows. Yet to go back would be to undo her plan; besides the animals had already seen her, and all their heads were turned in her direction.

”I must not irritate them,” she thought, ”and yet I must get on out of this field. If I creep along under the hedge they will not notice me.”

Her frock was a dark green, and her hat a black one. She sidled along close to the hedge, keeping her eyes on the cows, which presently resumed their feeding. But as she did not look where she was treading she went down, splas.h.!.+ into a ditch.

Mud and duckweed covered her boots, several dirty marks were made on her frock, the parcel fell out of her hand, and probably the black stains on the paper had penetrated to the contents. This was her first misfortune.

She got herself out of the ditch and went on more carefully, keeping still in the shade of the hedge. Then a great spray of bramble caught a bow of ribbon on her hat and lifted the whole thing off her head.

It flew up in the air, and only after repeated jumps could she get hold of it and bring it down again. This was her second misfortune.

Her tumblings and jumpings had attracted the attention of the cows once more, and a calf being young and inquisitive thought he would like to have a nearer view of the intruder, and began to follow Juliet. This was her third misfortune.

Her first impulse was to run, but a second thought told her that the cows would be sure to run after her. So she did not run, but walked as fast as she could, the calf walking faster and gaining on her. She stumbled and tripped and panted, and fixed her eyes on a gate, hoping that she might reach it before the calf came up with her. On she went with terrified steps, arrived at the gate, and found it fastened.

She threw the parcel over, climbed up the five wooden bars, and was going to climb down on the other side when she felt the great, warm, wet lips of the calf playing with her left ankle. She gave one screech of horror and threw herself head-foremost to the ground. It was soft and mossy, and she rose, shaken and bruised, and with a hole in the knee of each stocking.

But she had escaped from the calf. The copse or wood into which she had entered was dark and cool. A pathway went curving in and out among the trees. At a sharp turn she came suddenly upon a big man with a beard, who pointed a gun full at her, and said, ”Stand, or I'll fire!”