"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, splash! 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!"

This was her fourth misfortune.

Here was a dreadful, cruel robber such as she had read about in badly-printed penny books, and he would shoot her dead in half a minute. She gave a scream and turned to run back, but the man strode after her and laid a huge hand on her shoulder. At this she screamed and danced with terror.

"Now, now," roared the man, "stop that row! What are you doing here?"

"I want to go away!" cried Juliet.

"So you shall. But answer my questions first."

Glancing up at him Juliet perceived that he was laughing. All her fears vanished and she began to laugh too.

"What are you doing here?" asked the man again.

"I'm only walking through the wood," said Juliet, recovering her courage. "There ain't no law against that, I suppose."

"Yes, but there is. 'Trespa.s.sers will be prosecuted with the utmost rigour of the law.' Where do you come from?"

"From over there," and Juliet pointed behind her.

"Oh! And where are you going?"

"Over there," and she pointed before her.

The man whistled. "If you're not a Londoner, I'm a Dutchman. You're pretty sharp, you are."

"No, I ain't," said Juliet, stolidly; "I'm that stupid and awkward that I can't do nothing right. So I want a general place, I do."

"Oh!" said the big man, laughing; "awkward and stupid wants a place.

Hope you'll get it, miss. Well, now, look here. Go right on and get out of the wood as quick as ten thousand lightnings, or else you'll be prosecuted with the utmost rigour of the law."

Juliet wriggled away from under his heavy hand and ran right ahead, thankful to escape from the gun.

She came soon to the edge of the wood and found a fence easy to climb.

On the other side of this she came into a lane which led out on a highroad. It was now late in the day; the sun was getting low, and the shadows grew longer and the air sweeter. She walked on quietly, thinking herself safe from pursuit. How surprised every one would be when they discovered that she had started in life by herself! Perhaps they would see that she was not so stupid and awkward as they thought.

"But I've got no place yet," said the girl to herself. "I must find one pretty sharp or I shall have nowhere to sleep to-night. Here's two houses; either on 'em would do for me."

Two small brick houses stood by the roadside. They had green doors, and shutters outside the windows, and little gardens in front.

"There ain't not a bit of use in being shy," said Juliet to herself, her courage all the while sinking lower and lower. "I'm as bold as bra.s.s, I always was. Here goes!"

She walked up to the door of the first cottage and rapped on it with her knuckles.

It was opened by a tall, thin, elderly woman in a high black bonnet.

"What do you want?" she said.