"So it was, Mary. But, mind you, I did not know it was you. That girl there, they called her Juliet, and then they talked about Juliet's father being a printer and out of health, and all that; and I thinks to myself that there was Mitchell, poor Nan's brother, who was a printer, and I should not like to think that he was out of health and out of work, and that gave me a kind of feeling for all printers, and I put in a word for Juliet's father. But I little thought that Juliet's father was poor Nan's brother."
"Ain't you glad, man?" said Mrs. Bosher's brother, giving a squeeze to Roberts's rheumatic arm; "ain't you glad?"
"Glad—oh, it's agony!—yes, glad as I can be."
"Well, I can't make it out now!" said Mitchell, taking off his hat to cool his head. "Just to think that Mr. Robert the butler is my brother-in-law!"
"Are you sorry, man?" roared Mrs. Bosher's brother, putting his great rose into Mitchell's face; "are you sorry?"
"Sorry!—phew, it's delicious, but stifling—no, I'm certainly not sorry."
"Then get into the boat, and do the rest of your talking there."
They took the hint. Mrs. Bosher's brother rowed them gently down the stream to Banksome Weir, the scene of Juliet's escape, and afterwards he rowed them gently back again. He said he could do that kind of rowing in his sleep.
They were all very happy; a happy family party.
And not the least happy was Juliet Mitchell, who had put away from her all her former follies and ill-humours, and had begun a new life of gentleness, obedience, and industry.