Littlebourne Lock Part 7

"Yes, it is the Thames,"

"No, it ain't; not my Thames."

"Yes, my dear; though you do contradict me, it is the Thames for all that."

"I know the Thames well enough," said Juliet; "it is twice as broad as this. And it is all inky-like; and it has wharves and smoky chimneys and steamboats and masts all over it. This ain't no Thames; I know bettor than that."

"Oh, but, cousin Juliet," Emily put in, "the Thames is young here, and it is old at London. Some day you will get old, and once on a time mother was a little girl like you."

Still unconvinced the London child made no rejoinder.

Mrs. Rowles began to cross to the lock-house by the planks of the lock.

"Come carefully, Juliet, you are not used to this."

Juliet marched across the narrow bridge with firm foot and steady eye.

Emily followed nervously.

On the island they found Mr. Rowles; and Philip, who, not meeting his mother on the road from the station, had hurried home again. He and his father stared at Juliet.

"Well, I never!" cried Mr. Rowles. "Whom have we here?"

"Oh, Ned," said his wife soothingly, "it is your own little niece, Juliet Mitch.e.l.l. I thought you'd like to have her here a bit, seeing as they are none too well off, and she's never been in the real country at all till now."

Rowles whistled doubtfully. He stood there in his shirt sleeves, with his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, and his black straw hat pushed back on his head. His eyes were fixed on his niece's face with a gaze of inquiry, and a sort of dislike seemed to grow up in his heart and in hers.

"Oh, very well," he said, at length. "Where's your box?"

Juliet did not know what he meant.

"Where's your box--your luggage?"

"Haven't got any," said Juliet.

"Then where's your Sunday frock?"

"Haven't got one," said Juliet; "it's at the p.a.w.n-shop."

Rowles whistled more fiercely.

"I say, Emma, I'll be bound you found that fellow Mitch.e.l.l in bed--now, didn't you?"

"Yes, Ned, I did; because--"

"I knew it. And I never knew any good come of lying in bed by day and sitting up at night to do your work, or pretend to do it."

"But that is his business, Ned."

"Then it is a bad business, say I."

"And people must have morning papers. Besides, Thomas is ill."

"And likely to be ill, I should say, sleeping by day and working by night."

Mrs. Rowles drew her husband aside to tell him quietly the condition in which she had found his sister. He was softened by the sad story, but persisted in thinking that all Mitch.e.l.l's misfortunes arose from the fact that he worked by night and slept by day. "It is going against nature," he said. "Why, the sun shows you what you ought to do. You don't catch the sun staying up after daylight or going down in the morning."

"But the moon and stars are up by night," said Mrs. Rowles laughing.

"The moon's a she; and as for the stars, they are little uns, and children are always contrary."

Mr. Rowles grew good-tempered over his own wit, and at length allowed that Thomas Mitch.e.l.l's mode of life was a necessary evil, but an evil all the same. Then he said that he had not had any idea that the Mitch.e.l.ls were badly off; he had only been to see them twice since their marriage, when they had appeared to be comfortable. And he had always supposed that money was to be had in London almost for the asking. In fact, he was one of the old-fashioned sort, and never troubled himself about London ways; and he did not think his sister's affairs any concern of his. But if Mary was so badly off, and it was a help to her to get Juliet out of the way, why Juliet might stay as long as she liked. One mouth more would not make much difference. He could not say fairer than that, could he?

Mrs. Rowles was quite content with the fairness of his speech; and she went into the house, brought out from her cupboard some odds and ends for supper, and then lighted the lamp and called in her husband and the children.

"Suppose you say grace, Juliet," said Mr. Rowles. He quite expected to find that she did not know what he meant.

But she spoke the right words clearly and reverently.

When they had nearly finished their supper, Rowles suddenly turned to Juliet, saying, "Your father has his supper along of your breakfast, don't he?"

"Yes," replied Juliet, "when we have a breakfast."

"Don't you always have a breakfast?"

"Most days, when mother has got on with her work."

Rowles turned away.

A cry of "Lock-man! Hie! Lock-man!" sounded on the calm evening air.

Rowles went out, and his voice was heard in conversation with that of another man; then the lifting up of the sluices broke the stillness, and the creaking of the lock-gate as it opened. After that Rowles came in again, laughing scornfully.

"It was the chap that slipped into the water this morning. He is a persevering chap, to be sure. He says he is determined to learn to row, and to swim, and to punt, and to fish. And he went down this afternoon, and now he's gone up, and he is dead-beat already; and how he'll get home he can't tell for the life of him. Why, he knows just as much about boating as Juliet there. I'd like to see him and her double sculling. They'd just be a pair, they would."

Juliet listened to everything but said little, and when she was ordered off to bed she silently followed Emily up to the attic, where Mrs. Rowles had already contrived to make a second little bed on the floor.

After she was in bed Juliet listened for a long while to the roar of the weir, wondering at what she thought must be distant thunder. Then the occasional twitter of a bird, or the soft lowing of a cow, or the splash of a fish leaping in the river, disturbed her from her thoughts and startled her. And once, when all was very dark and very silent, she heard the regular pulse of oars, and the clanking of chains, and the creaking of wood, and subdued voices; and she imagined robbers.

But all became quiet again; and at last, at last, her ideas grew confused, and she fell asleep.

CHAPTER V.

ON THE RIVER

HOW wonderful the country seemed to the London child! Everything was strange and beautiful. And though Juliet would not confess how surprised she felt, yet by little looks and words her aunt and cousins knew that she was taking in fresh ideas every minute.