hich 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
assembled, 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
lass and serve God 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