It was opened by a tall, thin, elderly woman in a high black bonnet. "What do you want?" she said. "Please, missus, I want a place; general servant, like." The woman looked at her from the crown of her hat to the heels of her boots. "Oh, do you? Where have you been living?" "Over there," said Juliet. "Over where?" "Littlebourne way." The woman seemed to be thinking deeply. "Got a first-rate character, I suppose?" "Oh, well," said Juliet hastily, "I've not been in a regular situation, as the saying is, but helping a friend, you know." "It's a pity you've left her," said the woman. "What wages were you getting?" Juliet said, lamely enough, "I didn't have no regular wages. They kep' me, and gave me these," showing the aprons. "Ah! Did they send you away?" "No, missus; I just took French leave and come away when it suited me. I want to better myself." "I see. Well, come in. I'll try you. My name is _Bosher_. Do you hear--_Mrs. Bosher_?" While Juliet stood in the narrow passage Mrs. Bosher locked and bolted the door, and at every sound the poor, foolish girl grew more and more unhappy, and more cut off from all hope and all happiness. Mrs. Bosher's bonnet and Mrs. Bosher's name were enough to terrify any young person with a bad conscience. "Yes," said Juliet's new mistress, "my name is Bosher"--here the bonnet nodded,--"and now you are my servant, and while you are in my service you will do precisely everything that I tell you. I have a brother who has a gun; sometimes he shoots rooks, sometimes he shoots--other things. He lives next door. If you do a single thing that displeases me, you shall be prosecuted with the utmost rigour of the law." Juliet longed to scream, or kick, or run away; but she did not dare to move. "The utmost rigour of the law" might mean something awful: it might mean being hanged, or being shot by Mrs. Bosher's brother. The passage was almost dark, and Juliet stood trembling beside her dreadful mistress. Oh, if only it were possible to be back once more at the lock! Oh, if only she could escape from this new situation! Locked doors, and windows shuttered on the outside, made this cottage a very prison. The man with the gun living-next door, the unknown rigour of the law hanging over her head, Mrs. Bosher glaring through the twilight--how endure them even for a night? And how get away from them in the morning? She was pushed into a kitchen and bidden to wash up some cups and saucers. "And woe betide you if you break one of them!" said Mrs. Bosher, her bonnet nodding so strangely that it seemed to be the speaker rather than its wearer.