me," replied Clare laughing,
"and bade me go look in the mending-chest and see how much lacked
doing."

"Nor Mistress Rachel?"

"Nay, Aunt Rachel said I might well be thankful that I was safe guarded
at home, and had not need to go about this wicked world."

"Well, there is reason in that. It is a wicked world."

"Yet, surely, we need try to make it better, Mistress Tremayne: and--any
woman could stitch and cut as well as I."

Clare spoke earnestly. Mrs Tremayne considered a little before she
answered.

"Well, dear heart, it may be the Lord doth design thee to be a worker in
His vineyard. I cannot say it is not thus. But if so, Clare, it
seemeth me that in this very cutting and stitching, which thou so much
mislikest, He is setting thee to school to be made ready. Ere we be fit
for such work as thou wouldst have, we need learn much: and one lesson
we have to learn is patience. It may be that even now, if the Lord mean
to use thee thus, He is giving thee thy lesson of patience. `Let
patience have her perfect work.' 'Tis an ill messenger that is so eager
to be about his errand, that he will needs run ere he be sent. The
great Teacher will set thee the right lessons; see thou that they be
well learned: and leave it to Him to call thee to work when He seeth
thee ripe for it."

"I thank you," said Clare meekly; "maybe I am too impatient."

"'Tis a rare grace, dear heart,--true patience: but mind thou, that is
not idleness nor backwardness. Some make that blunder, and think they
be patiently waiting for work when work waiteth for them, and they be
too lazy to put hand thereto. We need have a care on both sides."

But though Mrs Tremayne gave this caution, in her own mind she thought
it much more likely that Blanche would need it than Clare.

"And why should I press back her eagerness, if the Lord hath need of
her? Truly"--and Thekla Tremayne sighed as she said this to
herself--"`the labourers are few.'"

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note 1. Philadelphia Carey, a kinswoman of Queen Elizabeth through her
mother, Anne Boleyn.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

CATCHING MOTHS.

"For my soul's sake, Maid Marjorie,
And yet for my soul's sake, -
I know no wrong I've done to thee,
Nor why thy heart should break."

Rather late on the same evening, Sir Thomas walked into the parsonage,
and rapped with his silver-hilted staff at the parlour door. Clare had
gone