"It don't matter," said the child; "I'm 'most always tired."

They went through some pasture-fields where cows lay about quiet and happy, and through corn-fields where green wheat and barley rustled in the evening breeze.

"You're right," muttered Juliet; "it ain't all churchyard, 'cause they don't have cows and green flowers in churchyards."

"Do you like the country, my dear?"

"I don't know yet. I ain't seen any shops, nor any mutton-chops."

"Well, you shall see them all by and by. Now we are going through a farmyard, where you will see c.o.c.ks and hens, and perhaps some little pigs."

But before they had time to look for either pigs or poultry they heard a succession of alternate fierce growls and short shrieks, and both Mrs. Rowles and Juliet stopped short.

The growls seemed to be those of a big dog, and the shrieks those of a little girl. Both sounds came from an inner yard of the farm, through which there was a public right of way. Something in the shrieks made Mrs. Rowles's cheek turn pale, and something in the growls made Juliet's face flush red.

"Oh, dear!" cried Mrs. Rowles, "it is some child in danger!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: JULIET SEIZED THE DOG BY HIS COLLAR.]

"It is some horrid cruel dog!" said Juliet.

The aunt went cautiously through the gate into the inner yard, and the niece rushed through it boldly. What they saw was indeed alarming.

Little Emily Rowles was in a corner of the wall, shut in there on one side by a great high kennel, and on the other side by the huge mastiff who belonged to the kennel. He lay on the ground, his head on his paws, and his eyes fixed on the child; and whenever she made the slightest movement he growled in the fiercest manner. No wonder she uttered cries of dread and despair.

Before Mrs. Rowles could think what was best to do, Juliet had done it.

Fearless, because she did not understand the danger, Juliet rushed at the dog, seized him by his collar, and with all her strength pulled him away from the corner. He was so astonished at finding himself thus handled that all his fierceness, half of which was pretended, died out of him, and he looked up wildly at the new-comer, and forgot the other girl whom he had been bullying with such pleasure.

Emily had leaped into her mother's arms, and was sobbing with excitement and relief.

"My child! my darling! how did it happen? How came you to get caught by that brute? How came you to be here at all?"

Emily was still unable to reply. Her mother carried her to a bench at the other side of the yard, and soothed her until she was calm again.

But Juliet stood beside the dog; he was ashamed of himself, and he bowed to a will stronger than his own. He felt that she was not afraid of him, and he was afraid of her. Not that he had had any intention of really hurting Emily; but it had seemed to him great fun, after doing nothing all day but doze in the shade, to keep a child in custody, and hear her cries for help.

"What made you come here, Emily?" said Mrs. Rowles again.

"Oh, father said Philip and I might come and meet you. And we did not know which way you would come, so Philip went by the road and I came by the fields."

"But how did you get over by the dog's kennel?"

"Oh, he was inside it, and I thought he was asleep. So I just went up to look in at him, and he bounced out and shut me into the corner; and he growled horribly, and would not let me come out."

"Poor child! And all the folks in the hay-field, I suppose, and not a creature within call. I've often told you, Emily, not to go near strange dogs."

"Yes, mother, I know. It was my own fault."

"And if I had not happened to come this way--"

"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."