CHAPTER LXXVI
Thus, in beautiful scenery, and meditative resignation, with outward quiet, though by no means with internal tranquillity, Juliet had passed about a week, when the wife of the farmer broke rudely into the cottage; bearing in her hand the bonnet of Debby Dyson, which she flung scornfully upon a table.
Angrily, then, reproaching Juliet that she had caused Bet to be taken for that bold hussy, by the higler, she demanded back the exchanged bonnet; declaring, that the girl should never wear one again, to the longest day that she had to live, rather than dress herself up in any thing of Debby Dyson's.
Turning next to the old cottager, she added, that a good mother would do well not to keep a person used to such light company under her roof; unless she had a mind to bring her daughters-in-law to ruin.
Then, snatching up her girl's bonnet, she bustled away to look after her evening's milking; roughly refusing to hearken to any sort of explanation from Juliet, and saying that she never knew any good come of listening to talking; which was no better than idling away time.
Juliet remained confounded; while the tender old cottager shed tears, saying that she had never before had so pretty a companion in her life. But Juliet would not tempt the good woman to defy the persons upon whom her children chiefly depended; and, once more, therefore, she was reduced to make up her little packet.
She entreated of the cottager that, if a letter came for her to the farm, it might be kept till she sent her direction; then doubled the pay of all that she owed for board and lodging; and, kindly taking leave of the old dame, who wept bitterly at the parting; quitted the cottage; and again, in search of a new asylum, became a Wanderer.
Which way to turn, she made no enquiry, wholly ignorant what choice might bring security.