"Oh, you would like to leave home?"
"Yes, I would. They worrit me, and I worrit them."
"Oh, poor child, poor child!"
The kind-hearted Emma Rowles made curious little noises with her tongue and her teeth, and toiled again up the staircase with baby in her arms, and Juliet silently following as she went. Mrs. Rowles framed short, unworded prayers for guidance at this present crisis; and when she stood again in her sister-in-law's room her resolve was taken.
She put the baby into his father's arms.
"There, Thomas, I do hope you will get about soon. Do you think your trade is a healthy one? My Ned, he always says that it is bad to work by night, and bad to sleep by day, says he."
"Emma Rowles," was Mitchell's sharp rejoinder, "does your Ned ever read a newspaper?"
"Yes, most every day. Them passing through the lock often give him a Standard or a Telegraph."
"Then he'd better not find fault with the printers. If the public would be content with evening papers, we printers might keep better hours."
"There now!" said Mrs. Rowles, venturing on a short laugh "Do you know, I never thought of when the morning papers get printed."