"Want see my sis'er!" pleaded the baby voice, in tones of some impatience.

"Wilt be a good maid if thou come forth?" demanded Rachel of the culprit within.

"That is as may be," returned Clare insubordinately.

"If I leave thee come forth, 'tis not for any thy goodness, but I would not be hard on thee in the first minute of thy home-coming, and I make allowance for thy coldness and weariness, that may cause thee to be pettish."

Another little pull warned Rachel to cut short her lecture.

"Now, be a good maid! Come forth, then. Here is Blanche awaiting thee."

Out came Clare, looking very far from penitent. But when Blanche toddled up, put her fat arms round her sister as far as they would go, and pouted up her little lips for a kiss,--to the astonishment of every one, Clare burst into tears. n.o.body quite knew why, and perhaps Clare could hardly have said herself. Barbara interposed, by coming forward and taking possession of her, with the apologetic remark--

"Fair cruel worn-out she is, poor heart!"

And Rachel condoned the affair, with--"Give her her supper, good wife, and put her abed. Jennet will show thee all needful."

So Clare signalised her first entrance into her new home by rebellion and penalty.

The next morning rose brightly. Barbara and Jennet came to dress the four little girls, who all slept in one room; and took them out at once into the garden. Clare seemed to have forgotten the episode of the previous evening, and no one cared to remind her of it. Margaret had brought a ball with her, and the children set to work at play, with an amount of activity and interest which they would scarcely have bestowed upon work. Barbara and Jennet sat down on a wooden seat which ran round the trunk of a large ash-tree, and Jennet, pulling from her pocket a pair of knitting-needles and a ball of worsted, began to ply the former too quickly for the eye to follow.

"Of a truth, I would I had some matter of work likewise," observed Barbara; "I have been used to work hard, early and late, nor it liketh me not to sit with mine hands idle. Needs must that I pray my Lady of some task belike."

"Do but say the like unto Mistress Rachel," said Jennet, laughing, "and I warrant thee thou'lt have work enough."

"Mistress Rachel o'erseeth the maids work?"

"There's nought here but hoo [she] does o'ersee," replied Jennet.

"She keepeth house, marry, by my Lady's direction?"

"Hoo does not get much direction, I reckon," said Jennet.

"What, my Lady neither makes nor meddles?"

Jennet laughed. "I ne'er saw her make yet so much as an apple turno'er.

As for tapestry work, and such, hoo makes belike. But I'll just tell thee:--Sir Thomas is our master, see thou. Well, his wife's his mistress. And Mistress Rachel's her mistress. And Mistress Blanche is Mistress Rachel's mistress. Now then, thou knowest somewhat thou didn't afore."

"And who is Mistress Blanche's mistress or master belike?" demanded Barbara, laughing in her turn.

"Nay, I've getten to th' top," said Jennet. "I can go no fur'."

"There'll be a master some of these days, I cast no doubt," observed Barbara, drily.

"Happen," returned Jennet. "But 'tis a bit too soon yet, I reckon.-- Mrs Meg, yon's the breakfast bell."

Margaret caught the ball from Clare, and pocketed it, and the whole party went into the hall for breakfast. Here the entire family a.s.sembled, down to the meanest scullion-lad. Jennet took Clare's hand, and led her up to the high table, at which Mistress Rachel had already taken her seat, while Sir Thomas and Lady Enville were just entering from the door behind it.

"Ha! who cometh here?" asked Sir Thomas, cheerily. "My new daughter, I warrant. Come hither, little maid!"

Clare obeyed rather shyly. Her step-father set her on his knee, kissed her, stroked her hair with a rather heavy hand, and bade her "be a good la.s.s and serve G.o.d well, and he would be good father to her." Clare was not sorry when the ordeal was over, and she found herself seated between Margaret and Barbara. Sir Thomas glanced round the table, where an empty place was left on the form, just opposite Clare.

"Where is Jack?" he inquired.

"Truly, I know not," said Lady Enville languidly.

"I bade him arise at four of the clock," observed Rachel briskly.

"And saw him do it?" asked Sir Thomas, with an amused expression.

"Nay, in very deed,--I had other fish to fry."

"Then, if Jack be not yet abed, I am no prophet."

"Thou art no prophet, brother Tom, whether or no," declared Rachel. "I pray thee of some of that herring."

While Rachel was being helped to the herring, a slight noise was audible at the door behind, and the next minute, tumbling into his place with a somersault, a boy of eleven suddenly appeared in the hitherto vacant s.p.a.ce between Rachel and Lucrece.

"Ah Jack, Jack!" reprimanded Sir Thomas.

"Salt, Sir?" suggested Jack, demurely.

"What hour of the clock did thine Aunt bid thee rise, Jack?"

"Well, Sir," responded Jack, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up one eye, as if the effort of memory were painful, "as near as I may remember, 'twas about one hundred and eighty minutes to seven of the clock."

"Thou wilt come to ill, Jack, as sure as sure," denounced Aunt Rachel, solemnly.

"I am come to breakfast, Aunt, and I shall come to dinner," remarked Jack: "that is as sure as sure."

Sir Thomas leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily, bidding Jack help himself; while Rachel shook her head ominously over Jack's future.

Jack stood up, surveyed the table, and proceeded to make a wide gash in an enormous pie. Just as he was laying down knife and spoon, and retiring with his spoils, he caught a glimpse of Clare, who sat studying him in some trepidation and much curiosity.

"Hallo! who are you?" was Jack's unceremonious greeting.

"Wilt thou ne'er learn to behave thyself, lad?" corrected Rachel.

"You see, Aunt, none never learned me yet," returned Jack coolly; looking at Clare in a manner which said, "I await your answer."

Sir Thomas good-naturedly replied for her.

"'Tis thy new sister, my lad,--little Clare Avery. Play none of thy tricks on her, Jack."

"My tricks, Sir?" demanded Jack with an air of innocent astonishment.

"I know thee, lad!" said Sir Thomas shortly, but good humouredly.

Jack proceeded to make short work of the pie, but kept his eyes on Clare.