Clarissa was employed in embroidering a stomacher whose green, gold, and russet set off her dark curls very agreeably. The Lady Margaret was playing a soft Italian air upon the cithern, which she managed with excellent taste, to the entertainment of her temporary mistress and her half dozen attendants.
Rebecca's needles moved in time with the graceful measure of the music, while her head nodded in unison, and she smiled now and then.
As the air was concluded she let her hands sink for a moment into her lap, turning to bend an approving look upon the fair young musician.
"There, now!" she said. "I declare, Miss Margaret, that's real sweet music. I'm much obliged to ye, I'm sure."
Margaret arose and courtesied, blushing.
"Would your Highness that I play again?" she asked.
"No, thank ye," said Rebecca, resuming her knitting. "The's no sort o' use in drivin' folks to death as are kind to ye. Sit right down an' rest now, an' I'll tell ye all a story thet hez a bearin' right on that point."
She turned to the four maids of honor seated behind her.
"Now you girls can jest's well come an' set in front o' me while I'm talkin'. I'll like it a heap better, I'm sure."
With great diffidence on the part of her attendants, and after much coaxing on Rebecca's part, this change was accomplished. The idea of being seated in the presence of royalty was in itself quite distasteful to these young courtiers, but upon this Rebecca had insisted from the first. It made her feel tired, she said, to see people standing continually on their feet.