Clare Avery: A Story of the Spanish Armada

by Emily Sarah Holt

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.”