Didactic fiction; Domestic fiction; Girls -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Poverty -- Juvenile fiction
He went to work the paddles and the handles, and while he was so
employed the others heard a tremendous halloo from the bank on the far
side of the river. Juliet looked slightly alarmed and said to her
mother, "I think it is Mrs. Bosher's brother."
And so it was. He had come down through the wood and the fields by the
same path which Juliet had gone up on the sad day when she ran away
from Littlebourne Lock. But he was not frightened by the cows, nor
caught by the brambles, and had he met himself with a gun he would not
have been at all terrified.
As soon as his loud deep voice was heard, Philip got into the _Fairy_
and went across to fetch him. While this was doing the four boats got
through the lock, and Rowles came back to talk to his friends.
"I suppose you can swim?" he said to Mitchell.
"Yes; and so can my boy Albert. Swimming-baths in London, you know,
where you get clean and learn to swim all in one."
"A better bath here," returned Rowles, "and nothing to pay."
He looked lovingly at the beautiful river, rippled by the soft wind
into a deeper blue than the clear blue overhead. Mitchell, too, was
learning to love the Thames.
"And what are you waiting for now?" Mrs. Rowles asked.
"Why, for a friend; that is to say, Mr. Robert from the House."
"Ah, he can't get along very fast on account of his rheumatics. But
he won't keep you standing about very long; and here's Mrs. Bosher's
brother to fill up the time." And Rowles turned to greet the new
arrival, who looked indeed big enough to fill up any amount of time or
space, even had he been without the great yellow rose which he wore in
his button-hole.
While they were in friendly talk with Mrs. Bosher's brother, the party
on the eyot did not notice who was coming along the road from the
village. It was a middle-aged man, who walked rather limpingly, and
who made most extraordinary gestures as he approached the group. First
he stood and stared, then he rubbed his eyes and stared again. Then he
took out his spectacles and put them on, took them off, rubbed them,
and put them on again.
He advanced a few steps, cast his hands up in the air, leaned heavily
on his stick, and exclaimed under his breath, "I can't believe it! Who
could have thought it? It is like a story-book!"
Then he went on a few steps further and came close behind the group,
which was gathered round Mrs. Bosher's brother, listening to his loud,
hearty remarks.
Rowles was the first who saw the new-comer. He looked over his
shoulder and nodded. Then Mrs. Bosher's brother roared out, "Hullo!
here you are at last! How do you feel?"
And before the new-comer could reply to this greeting all the other
eyes were turned upon him, with expressions of surprise and
bewilderment.
"You! What brings you here?"
"What brings _you_ here?"
Mrs. Bosher's brother was the only person who remained calm. "What's
the matter?" said he. "Are you old friends or old enemies?"
"It is so odd," said Mitchell; "I can't make it out."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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