"Good lack! 'tis the first time I heard ever a woman--without she were a black Papist--pray God defend her from reading of His Word. Well, Niece, may be He will hear you. Howbeit, 'tis writ yonder that a meek spirit and a quiet is of much worth in His sight. I count you left that behind at Chester, with Audrey and the two gowns that lack?" [That are wanting.] "I would you did not call me Niece!" responded Gertrude in a querulous tone. "'Tis too-too [exceedingly] ancient. No parties of any sort do now call as of old [Note 2],--`Sister,' or `Daughter,' or `Niece'." "Dear heart! Pray you, what would your Ladyship by your good-will be called?" "Oh, Gertrude, for sure. 'Tis a decent name--not an ugsome [ugly] old-fashioned, such as be Margaret, or Cicely, or Anne." "'Tis not old-fashioned, in good sooth," said Rachel satirically; "I ne'er heard it afore, nor know I from what tongue it cometh. Then--as I pick out of your talk--decent things be new-fangled?" "I want no mouldy old stuff!--There! Put the yellow silk on the lowest shelf." "'Tis old-fashioned, I warrant you, to say to your sister, `An' it please you'?" "And the murrey right above.--Oh, stuff!" The first half of the sentence was for Clare; the second for Rachel. "'Tis not ill stuff, Niece," said the latter coolly, as she left the room. "And what thinkest of Gertrude?" inquired Sir Thomas of his sister, when she rejoined him and Lady Enville. "Marry!" said Rachel in her dryest manner, "I think the goods be mighty dear at the price." "I count," returned her brother, "that when Gertrude's gowns be paid for, there shall not be much left over for Jack's debts." "Dear heart! you should have thought so, had you been above but now. To see her Grace (for she carrieth her like a queen) a-counting of her gowns, and a-cursing of her poor maid Audrey that two were left behind, when seventeen be yet in her coffers!" "Seventeen!" repeated the Squire, in whose eyes that number was enough to stock any reasonable woman for at least half her life. "Go to--seventeen!" echoed Rachel. "Well-a-day! What can the lass do with them all?" wondered Sir Thomas. "Dear hearts! Ye would not see an earl's daughter low and mean?" interposed Lady Enville. "If this Gertrude be not so, Orige,--at the least in her heart,--then is Jennet a false speaker, and mine ears have bewrayed me, belike. Methinks a woman of good breeding might leave swearing and foul talk to the men, and be none the worse for the same: nor see I good cause wherefore she should order her sisters like so many Barbary slaves." "Ay so!--that marketh her high degree," said Lady Enville.