There was one person who was much vexed that he could not have a hand in the late doings. This was Roberts, the butler, who still was far from well, and not allowed out except in the garden on dry days.

But he talked a good deal with the housekeeper; and one day, after one of these talks, she went to Mr. Burnet and said, "If you have no objection, sir, I should like to ask Mrs. Mitchell and Juliet to take tea with me some afternoon."

"By all means," replied Mr. Burnet. "You can give them some of your scones, Mrs. Johnson, and some of your new strawberry jam."

Accordingly a day was fixed for Mrs. Mitchell and Juliet to drink tea at Bourne House. They arrived at four o'clock, neatly dressed, and were taken by Mrs. Johnson into her own little room.

"You see," explained the housekeeper, "I am what is called cook-housekeeper; I do the cooking and manage the house. Then there is Mary the housemaid, under my orders; she is out this afte so you won't see her. And there is the butler, who is not under my orders; and you won't see him, because he has his meals in his room, being still an invalid. I daresay your Juliet will take his tea up to him."

"Oh, yes, I will," cried Juliet. "He has been very kind to me."

"So have a good many people," said Mrs. Johnson. "Now, here you are. You'll find him in the first room on the right-hand side, at the top of the first flight of stairs."

As soon as Juliet had started with the tray on which Roberts's tea was arranged, Mrs. Johnson went on talking to Mrs. Mitchell.

"The house is not all furnished yet, and Roberts is not in the room which is really to be his. There are three reception rooms, a lovely drawing-room opening into the conservatory, good dining-room, and small study. Eight bed-rooms: Mr. Burnet's, Mr. Leonard's, the butler's, the housemaid's, mine, and there will be three spare rooms; so I suppose Mr. Burnet means to have a good deal of staying company."

"Eight bed-rooms!" repeated Mrs. Mitchell; "and only one housemaid for all of them! Why, however will she keep them all?"

"You may well ask that," said the housekeeper in a peculiar tone. "I'll show you over the house by and by, and you shall judge for yourself how Mary will manage it."

Juliet now returned.

"Well, how does he seem?"

"He seems pretty well," said Juliet; "and he was very kind."

"Ay, he's kind enough. Sugar, Mrs. Mitchell? Jam, Juliet? You are able to leave the little ones when you come out, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes," Mrs. Mitchell answered. "My second girl, Amy, is almost as big as Juliet, and a handy girl too. And you know we have no baby now."

"I know, I know," said the housekeeper. "So you did not feel much put about when Juliet was away from you?"

"Oh, no, not in that way."

"No, to be sure. Scones, Mrs. Mitchell? Milk, Juliet?"

When tea was ended Mrs. Johnson took her visitors over the house. They saw the sitting-rooms, only partly furnished, and all the bed-rooms except that in which Roberts was reposing himself. Some of these chambers were furnished, others were quite empty. Mary's room had two beds in it, two chests of drawers, two washstands, and so forth.

"Ah!" and Mrs. Johnson nodded her head; "yes, you see I got everything double. Do you understand?"

"Everything double!" said Mrs. Mitchell.

"And only Mary in the room."

"Only Mary in the room!"

"Well, I see you don't take in what I mean. It is this. When we get settled and have a lot of visitors in the house I shall want help in the kitchen, and Mary will want help in the rooms. What would you say to letting Juliet come and try how she would like the place?"

There was no doubt that Juliet would like it; her face said so. And Mrs. Mitchell, after looking serious for a few minutes, brightened up and said, "Do you think she would do? You know, she was so tiresome that her aunt could not keep her."

"Yes, I know; but she has had a stern lesson, and if she will try to be a good girl I should like to give her the chance. What do you say yourself, Juliet?"

Instead of saying as she used, "I'm that stupid and awkward that I can't do nothing," or that still worse thing, "I suppose I can do anything I want to," Juliet replied modestly, "I will try to do what you tell me."

"That's all I want," cried Mrs. Johnson kindly; "no girl can do better than what she is told. And as soon as I can settle it with Mr. Burnet I will come and settle it with you. Now, we will go out and look at the gardens, which are pretty though not to say large."

When there came a pause in the conversation Juliet said to her mother, "Mr. Robert was very kind, and would like to take you and me and father in a boat on the river some day soon. And he would like to go on Saturday afternoon if he is well enough. And he thinks Mrs. Bosher's brother would come too, and if Mr. Robert is not well enough to row, Mrs. Bosher's brother will row, and Mr. Robert will steer; and Mr. Robert says we are to meet him at the lock at three o'clock, which is between luncheon and dinner."

"And I hope you will have a nice trip," were Mrs. Johnson's last words as she said good-bye at the gate.

Juliet felt quite frightened at her good fortune; it seemed to make her want to cry more than poverty and trouble had done. And she said her prayers more earnestly than she had said them when she was naughty and unhappy. As the days went by and all was well, her father growing stronger, the children rosier, the house more comfortable, she did feel very deeply that the great blessings showered upon her had not been deserved, but were sent to make her better in the future than she had been in the past.

There was yet one more thing that she desired; that was to take her parents down the river to the place where she had been almost shipwrecked in the Fairy. They, too, wished to see the spot where their daughter had narrowly escaped a terrible death, which they shuddered even to think of.

Three o'clock on the afternoon of Saturday saw the whole Mitchell family at the lock. The children came to see their elders off, and to spend the afternoon with Philip and Emily.

"Glad to see you out in the daylight," said Mr. Rowles to Mr. Mitchell. "You are twice the man you were, now that you are keeping better hours."

Mitchell only smiled; he did not think it possible to quite overcome Rowles's prejudice.

"Here's the tub which Phil has brought up from the ferry. He thought you would like a flat-bottomed tub, Mary."

Mrs. Mitchell looked about, expecting to see a round thing similar to a washing-tub.

But her husband knew better. "Yes," said he, "when I was a young man I used to go to Battersea on holidays, I and some others, and nothing would suit us but outrigged gigs, randans, and such like; but now I'm growing old, and a flat-bottomed tub suits us better, my missus and me. Shall we get in, do you think, Ned?"

"Yes, get in. Here they come, four on 'em—two blue stripes, one red stripe, and one all gals. They can all go in together."

"In the water!" cried Mrs. Mitchell.

"No, Mary; in the lock. What a cockney you are!"

He went to work the paddles and the handles, and while he was so employed the others heard a tremendous halloo from the bank on the far side of the river. Juliet looked slightly alarmed and said to her mother, "I think it is Mrs. Bosher's brother."

And so it was. He had come down through the wood and the fields by the same path which Juliet had gone up on the sad day when she ran away from Littlebourne Lock. But he was not frightened by the cows, nor caught by the brambles, and had he met himself with a gun he would not have been at all terrified.

As soon as his loud deep voice was heard, Philip got into the Fairy and went across to fetch him. While this was doing the four boats got through the lock, and Rowles came back to talk to his friends.

"I suppose you can swim?" he said to Mitchell.

"Yes; and so can my boy Albert. Swimming-baths in London, you know, where you get clean and learn to swim all in one."

"A better bath here," returned Rowles, "and nothing to pay."

He looked lovingly at the beautiful river, rippled by the soft wind into a deeper blue than the clear blue overhead. Mitchell, too, was learning to love the Thames.

"And what are you waiting for now?" Mrs. Rowles asked.

"Why, for a friend; that is to say, Mr. Robert from the House."

"Ah, he can't get along very fast on account of his rheumatics. But he won't keep you standing about very long; and here's Mrs. Bosher's brother to fill up the time." And Rowles turned to greet the new arrival, who looked indeed big enough to fill up any amount of time or space, even had he been without the great yellow rose which he wore in his button-hole.

While they were in friendly talk with Mrs. Bosher's brother, the party on the eyot did not notice who was coming along the road from the village. It was a middle-aged man, who walked rather limpingly, and who made most extraordinary gestures as he approached the group. First he stood and stared, then he rubbed his eyes and stared again. Then he took out his spectacles and put them on, took them off, rubbed them, and put them on again.

He advanced a few steps, cast his hands up in the air, leaned heavily on his stick, and exclaimed under his breath, "I can't believe it! Who could have thought it? It is like a story-book!"

Then he went on a few steps further and came close behind the group, which was gathered round Mrs. Bosher's brother, listening to his loud, hearty remarks.

Rowles was the first who saw the new-comer. He looked over his shoulder and nodded. Then Mrs. Bosher's brother roared out, "Hullo! here you are at last! How do you feel?"

And before the new-comer could reply to this greeting all the other eyes were turned upon him, with expressions of surprise and bewilderment.

"You! What brings you here?"

"What brings you here?"

Mrs. Bosher's brother was the only person who remained calm. "What's the matter?" said he. "Are you old friends or old enemies?"

"It is so odd," said Mitchell; "I can't make it out."

"Well, shake hands," cried Roberts; and he shook hands all round.

When that was over Mr. Rowles said he would like to know what it was all about, and so at last matters were explained.

"It is Daniel Roberts, who married my poor sister Nan, that died nine years come the 1st of November." While Mitchell said this he was gazing harder than ever at Roberts.

"Why did you never tell me his name?" Mrs. Mitchell asked of Juliet.

"I did," Juliet replied. "I always called him Mr. Robert."

"Ain't he Mr. Robert then?" asked Rowles, still perplexed.

"No," said the butler; "I am Daniel Roberts. Roberts is my surname, and Robert is not my Christian name. But some people have no ear for music, and can't hear an S when it is at the end of the word."

Mrs. Mitchell turned to her children. "It is your Uncle Roberts. I am surprised at finding him here. Why, Daniel, Mrs. Johnson said she thought it was partly owing to you that Mr. Burnet had us brought down here."

"So it was, Mary. But, mind you, I did not know it was you. That girl there, they called her Juliet, and then they talked about Juliet's father being a printer and out of health, and all that; and I thinks to myself that there was Mitchell, poor Nan's brother, who was a printer, and I should not like to think that he was out of health and out of work, and that gave me a kind of feeling for all printers, and I put in a word for Juliet's father. But I little thought that Juliet's father was poor Nan's brother."

"Ain't you glad, man?" said Mrs. Bosher's brother, giving a squeeze to Roberts's rheumatic arm; "ain't you glad?"

"Glad—oh, it's agony!—yes, glad as I can be."

"Well, I can't make it out now!" said Mitchell, taking off his hat to cool his head. "Just to think that Mr. Robert the butler is my brother-in-law!"

"Are you sorry, man?" roared Mrs. Bosher's brother, putting his great rose into Mitchell's face; "are you sorry?"

"Sorry!—phew, it's delicious, but stifling—no, I'm certainly not sorry."

"Then get into the boat, and do the rest of your talking there."

They took the hint. Mrs. Bosher's brother rowed them gently down the stream to Banksome Weir, the scene of Juliet's escape, and afterwards he rowed them gently back again. He said he could do that kind of rowing in his sleep.

They were all very happy; a happy family party.

And not the least happy was Juliet Mitchell, who had put away from her all her former follies and ill-humours, and had begun a new life of gentleness, obedience, and industry.

Mr. Burnet and Leonard passed them in another boat, and smiled and nodded at them.

Mr. and Mrs. Webster passed them, walking on the towing-path, and nodded and smiled at them.

Mrs. Bosher's bonnet came to see them in the evening, and nodded more than ever.

And a very kind letter came from Miss Sutton, with a hymn-book as a special present to Juliet.

THE END.