an old one in the cupboard, began to fill it with the
bacon and the broad beans. "We killed a pig in the spring," she said;
"and Rowles is a rare one to keep his garden stuff going."

Little was said while Mrs. Rowles cooked, and Mrs. Mitchell sewed, and
Thomas sniffed the reviving green odour of the fresh vegetables. This
quiet was presently interrupted by the sound of someone coming up the
stairs.

Mrs. Mitchell listened. "That is Juliet. There! I expected it!"

And a crash was heard, and a cry, and they knew that something
unpleasant had happened.

"There never was such a child!" said the mother; while the father
moaned out, "Oh, dear!"

Mrs. Rowles went out on the landing at the top of the stairs, and saw
a girl of about thirteen sitting crouched on the lower half of the
double flight, beside her the broken remains of a jug, and some soup
lying in a pool, which she was trying to scrape up with her fingers,
sucking them after each attempt.

"Is that you, Juliet?" said her aunt.

"Yes. I've spilt the soup and broke the jug."

"Oh, Juliet, how could you?"

"The jug had got no handle; that's why I came to drop it. And the soup
was only a teeny drop, so it's no great loss. And the bannisters was
all broke away for lighting the fires, and that's how I came to fall
over; and I might have broke my leg and been took to the hospital, and
I should have had plenty of grub there."

The child said this in a surly tone, as if all that had happened had
been an injury to her--even her escape from breaking her leg--and to
no one else.

"Well, come up," said Mrs. Rowles, who would hardly have been so calm
had the soup and the jug been her own; "come up and see what there is
for dinner here."

"_I_ don't care," said Juliet, as she left the remains of the spoilt
articles where they lay, and came up to the room. She was a
strange-looking child, with brows knitted above her deep-set eyes,
with a dark, pale skin, and dark untidy hair.

"Ah, you've been at it again!" cried Mrs. Mitchell. "Well, it was my
own fault to send you for it. You are the stupidest and awkwardest
girl I ever come across."

"Then, why _did_ you send me?" retorted Juliet. "I didn't want to go,
I'm sure."

"Hush, Juliet," interposed her father; "you must not speak so to your
mother. Here is your aunt come from Littlebourne, and brought in the
most splendid dinner."

"I don't want no dinner," said Juliet.

"Oh," said Mrs. Rowles very gently, "I t