"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 space 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, screwing 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. "Now, little maids," said Rachel, when they rose from the table, "I will hear, you your tasks in an hour hence. Till the clock strike, ye may go into the garden." "May we have some cakes with us, Aunt Rachel?" inquired Jack demurely. "Cake!" echoed Blanche, clapping her little fat hands. "Thou!" said Rachel. "Art thou a maid? I have nought to do with thy tasks. Be they ready for Master Tremayne?" Jack turned up the whites of his eyes, and turned down the corners of his mouth, in a style which exhibited a very emphatic No. "Go and study them, then, this minute," said his Aunt. The party separated, Jack putting on a look which was the embodiment of despair; but Sir Thomas, calling Margaret back, put into her hands the plate of small cakes; bidding her take them to the garden and divide them among the children. "Brother, Brother!" remonstrated Rachel.