etting, and there they sat
together talking.

"I am afraid," said Mrs. Rowles, "that Juliet will never do better
until she learns to be guided by the orders and the advice of other
people. I used to think that she wanted encouraging and helping on,
but I find that she really thinks a great deal of herself, and does
not like to be told anything."

"But she must and shall be told!" cried her uncle. "A bit of a girl
setting herself up against her elders indeed! If she is to stay in my
house she shall obey my orders. Do you hear me, Juliet?"

"Yes," answered Juliet.

"And your aunt's orders."

"Yes, as long as I am in your house."

With these words Juliet burst into a flood of angry tears, and kicked
her heels upon the floor in a violent manner.

"You had better go up to your room," said Mrs. Rowles gently.

The girl flung herself away, slamming the door after her.

"A troublesome child," said Mr. Burnet.

"Yes, sir. Poor thing! there are excuses to be made for her. Of late
years her father has been a good deal out of work and in bad health;
and then living in a close-packed part of London is trying to the
temper. And she's a baby beginning to feel her feet, and beginning to
feel herself getting on towards a woman. I am very sorry for her, poor
child, but I don't know about keeping her with us. You don't want your
whole comfort upset."

"And your boat too," said Rowles; "and your scull broken and lost.
It's a-clearing up, I do believe," he added, going out to the front of
the house, for he never stayed indoors when he could be out. Roberts
followed him.

"Where does the child come from?" Mr. Burnet asked of Mrs. Rowles.

She named the street, and added, "Her father is a printer, and that is
one thing that makes my husband so set against her."

"Why so?" inquired the gentleman.

"Because he thinks it unhealthy and wicked-like to work by night and
sleep by day, as you must when you are on a morning paper like poor
Thomas. You see, sir, Rowles has been lock-keeper these seventeen
years with eighteen shillings a-week and a house, and his hours from
six in the morning to ten at night; so he always gets his money
regular and his sleep regular, and he can't see why other men can't do
the same."

"We cannot be all of one trade," remarked Mr. Burnet. "And I hope he
does not hold that bad opinion of all in the printing business,
because I am a printer myself."

"You, sir!" cried Mrs. Rowles, while Emily opened