"Art thou sorry for thy fault?" "No." "Wilt thou ask pardon?" "No," said Clare sturdily. "Thou seest, Sister, I cannot let her out," decided Rachel, looking back. In utter despair Barbara appealed to Lady Enville. "Mistress Walter, sure you have never the heart to keep the little maid shut up in yon hole? She is cruel weary, the sweeting!--and an-hungered to boot. Cause her to come forth, I pray you of your gentleness!" Ah, Barbara! Appearances were illusive. There was no heart under the soft exterior of the one woman, and there was a very tender one, covered by a crust of rule and propriety, latent in the breast of the other. "Gramercy, Barbara!" said Lady Enville pettishly, with a shrug of her shoulders. "I never can deal with childre." "Leave her come forth, and I will deal withal," retorted Barbara bluntly. "Dear heart! Rachel, couldst thou not leave her come? Never mind waiting till she is sorry. I shall have never any peace." Rachel laid her hand doubtfully on the latch of the closet door, and stood considering the matter. Just then another door was softly pushed open, and a little child of three years old came into the room:--a much prettier child than Clare, having sky-blue eyes, shining fair hair, a complexion of exquisite delicacy, pretty regular features, and eyebrows of the surprised type. She ran up straight to Rachel, and grasped the blue serge kirtle in her small chubby hand. "Come see my sis'er," was the abrupt announcement. That this little bit of prettiness was queen at Enville Court, might be seen in Rachel's complacent smile. She opened the closet door about an inch. "Art thou yet sorry?" "No," said Clare stubbornly. There was a little pull at the blue kirtle. "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. Nobody 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.