of printers in general.

The sky was rapidly clearing, so the three visitors turned the
cushions of the boat, and stepping into it went through the lock, and
were soon going up between the green banks and hedges, all
deliciously freshened by the heavy summer rain.

"He's a nice old fellow," Rowles muttered to himself; "but then all
printers are not like him. Here, Phil, see what you can do to put the
_Fairy_ in order again. But as for that Juliet, if my wife was not so
soft-hearted I would turn the girl out to run home or to get her own
living."

CHAPTER VIII

BETTERING HERSELF.

Juliet Mitchell had gone up to the little room which she shared with
Emily Rowles. It did not contain much furniture, and what there was
had seen its best days long before. The chest of drawers had lost most
of its handles; the looking-glass which stood on the drawers swung
round the wrong way unless it was propped up by a book or by a box. It
had swung round in this manner, but had stuck half-way. When Juliet
entered the room she came face to face with the glass, and
consequently face to face with herself.

What she saw was enough to frighten her, and did frighten her. The
scowling brows, the flushed cheeks, the pushed-out lips, were more
like those of some fierce and raging animal than the features of a
young girl in a Christian land. She stopped short and glared at her
own reflection. It glared back as angrily at her. "What a horrid,
ugly, cross thing, you are!" said Juliet.

The face in the glass said the very same words with its lips, though
it made no sound. Then Juliet stood still and talked with herself.

"You are the ugliest, the crossest, most stupid, awkward creature I
ever did come near; and so I tell you plainly, Juliet Mitchell. Since
you came into this house not a thing but what is tiresome have you
done. Why, if your aunt was to jaw you from morning to night you would
do no better; and you can't stand being jawed, you know. And your aunt
just looks at you in a way that is more piercing than if she was to
talk for weeks! And your uncle, he's your own mother's own brother;
but there! he'd be glad enough if you was to take yourself off. And
that's about the best thing you can do. Take yourself off and get your
own living like other girls of your age. Nobody wants you, here or in
London. There's a many little places going; and when you've shown that
you can take care of yourself and don't want none of their advice