Lady Enville’s eyes opened—for her—extremely wide.
“Why, what can the child mean?” she exclaimed. “I can never govern childre. Rachel, do—”
Barbara was astonished and terrified. She laid a correcting hand upon Clare’s shoulder.
“Mrs Clare, I’m ashamed of you! Cruel ’shamed, I am! The ladies will account that I ne’er learned you behaviour. Kiss the young damsels presently (immediately), like a sweet little maid, as you use to be, and not like a wild blackamoor that ne’er saw governance!”
But the matter was taken out of Barbara’s hands, as Mistress Rachel responded to the appeal made to her—not in words, but in solid deed. She quietly grasped Clare, lifted her from her mother’s knee, and, carrying her to a large closet at one end of the room, shut her inside, and sat down again with judicial imperturbability.
“There you ’bide, child,” announced Rachel, from her chair, “until such time as you shall be sorry for your fault, and desire pardon.—Meg and Lucrece, come and fold your sewing. ’Tis too dark to make an end thereof this even.”
“Good Mistress,” entreated poor Barbara in deep dismay, “I beseech you, leave my little maid come out thence. She was never thus dealt withal in all her life afore!”
“No was she, (was she not), good wife?” returned Rachel unconcernedly. “Then the sooner she makes beginning thereof, the better for her. Ease your mind; I will keep her in yonder no longer than shall stand with her good. Is she oft-times thus trying?”
“Never afore knew I no such a thing!” said Barbara emphatically.
“Only a little waywardness then, maybe,” answered Rachel. “So much the better.”