proceed
on her homeward journey, which would occupy some three hours. So,
after affectionate farewells she set off, her basket hanging on one
arm and her niece hanging on the other; and they clambered into
omnibuses, rushed over crossings and under horses' heads, ran full
tilt against old gentlemen, and caught themselves on the hooks and
buttons of old ladies, in a way which Juliet alone would never have
done. But Mrs. Rowles, being unused to London, was more fussy and
hurried than any Londoner could ever find time to be.

CHAPTER IV.

THE "PRETTY CHURCHYARD."

IT was late in the day when the aunt and niece seated themselves in
the train for Littlebourne. Mrs. Rowles counted up her money, and then
counted up the time.

"It will be eight o'clock before we get home," she remarked; "it will
be getting dark and near your bed-time."

"I don't care," said Juliet; "I don't want to go to bed."

"Oh, no; but I shall be tired and sleepy. Juliet, have you ever been
in the country?"

"No."

"But you said you liked the Crystal Palace."

"No, I didn't," was Juliet's polite reply.

"I beg your pardon, my dear, I thought you did."

"I said," explained Juliet, slightly abashed by her aunt's courteous
manner--"I said I wanted to go to the Crystal Palace. Father said once
that he would take us on a bank holiday, but then we got poor, and so
he never kept his word. We always have been poor, we never had
mutton-chops but only three times; and now we are poorer than we used
to be, and we don't even get rice puddings."

"Well, I'll try and give you rice puddings, and suet ones too."

"Oh, I don't care," said the child relapsing into her usual manner; "I
don't want your puddings."

The carriage soon filled with other passengers, and there came over
Mrs. Rowles a slight sensation of shame when she saw how they glanced
at Juliet in her patched frock and untidy hat. And the neat
country-woman felt that to walk with this London child through the
village of Littlebourne, where every creature, down to the cows and
cats and dogs, all knew the lock-keeper's wife, would be a great trial
of courage.

It was only now that Mrs. Rowles realized the condition of many of the
working-class (_so called_, for harder work is done by heads than by
hands) in the great city, who yet are not what is known as "poor." The
Mitchell family had drifted away from the Rowles family. A letter now
and then passed between them, but Rowles had held