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Updated: June 4, 2025
Rowles say about his niece?" "Oh, he said she was a regular bad un; went off alone in the boat and got shipwrecked. He said she had a father who never thought of getting up to work until other folks were going to bed, and what else could you expect from the daughter of such a man as that?
"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." "There's a many as thoughtless as you, and more so." Mitchell laughed scornfully.
Rowles sat down very unwillingly. If the child was not on the island where could she be? It was very strange. "She has no idea of time," Mr. Rowles went on, between mouthfuls of the cabbage. "I'm not going to blame her for that; she only takes after her father, who does not know day from night." They had a dull meal, being more anxious about Juliet than they cared to confess to each other.
Rowles whistled more fiercely. "I say, Emma, I'll be bound you found that fellow Mitchell in bed now, didn't you?" "Yes, Ned, I did; because " "I knew it. And I never knew any good come of lying in bed by day and sitting up at night to do your work, or pretend to do it." "But that is his business, Ned." "Then it is a bad business, say I." "And people must have morning papers.
So we parted, and I with Lord Bruncker to Sir P. Neale's chamber, and there sat and talked awhile, Sir Edward Walker being there, and telling us how he hath lost many fine rowles of antiquity in heraldry by the late fire, but hath saved the most of his papers. Here was also Dr. Wallis, the famous scholar and mathematician; but he promises little.
Burnet asked Mitchell to meet him at the works next morning, and then he and Leonard drove off. Mrs. Bosher's brother hauled in a half-sack of coals and two great faggots from the donkey-cart, and then he, too, said good-bye. The Rowles party stayed longer. "Ned will come to see you, I hope," said Mrs. Rowles to her brother-in-law.
"Not with his bad health," replied Rowles, shaking his head; "and not without his proper night's sleep." "They make up their sleep in the daytime," said the other, beginning to push his boat out of the lock which was now full. "I've got relations of my own in the same line, so I know they can make up their sleep in the daytime. Well, good-night; if I see the girl I'll hurry her home."
In strong contrast to this beautiful and expensive stuff was the sight which saddened the further corner of the small room. Close under the sloping, blackened ceiling was a mattress laid on the floor, and on it a wan, haggard man, whom Mrs. Rowles supposed to be Thomas Mitchell, though she hardly recognized him. There was also another mattress on the floor.
In one of these, but at a little distance, they saw the farmer and all his men and maids busily turning over the hay that it might be well dried by the early sun next morning. Juliet asked no questions, though she was surprised at every step by strange country customs; and it did not cross the minds of Mrs. Rowles and Emily to explain what they themselves knew so well.
At six o'clock next morning Mr. Rowles went out to look up and down the river, and to prophesy the weather. It was still and cloudless and warm. While he was standing idly beside the running water, listening to the twitter of birds and the lowing of cows, he heard yet another cry, that of a man; and presently he saw on the far-off bank the figure of a big, burly man with a bushy beard.
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