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"No, I don't," she said, cutting him short. "Lack-a-day! I never took no heed when I might have learned it: and now have I no chance to learn, and everything to hinder. I don't know a soul I could ask about it." "The priest," suggested Mr Ewring a little constrainedly. This language astonished him from Nicholas Clere's daughter. "I don't want the priest's way.
And Rose went out with her parcel, lost in wonder as to what could be the matter first with Mistress Clere, and then with her friend Elizabeth. "Methinks that becomes me better. What sayest thou, Bess?" Two girls were standing in an upper room of Nicholas Clere's house, and the younger asked this question of the elder.
She knew also that the Mayoress, in all probability, was aware that Mrs Clere's protestation about not gaining a single penny was a mere flourish of words, not at all meant to be accepted as a fact. "Is there aught of news stirring, an' it like you, Madam?" asked Mrs Clere, as she rolled up the placard inside out, and secured it with tape.
For two years Hugh and I had fenced almost daily, and what with Pike and Arthur Wynne, knew most of the tricks of the small sword. "The next moment Le Clere cried, 'On guard, gentlemen! and I heard the click of the blades as they met. I had my hands full, and was soon aware of Le Clere's skill. I was, however, as agile as a cat, and he less clever with his legs than his arm.
I was charged with a secret, and bidden not to disclose the same. Think you I can break my word?" "Dear heart! I break mine many a time in the week," cried Amy, with a laugh. "I'm not nigh so peevish as thou." "But, Mistress Amy, it is not right," returned Elizabeth earnestly. Before Amy could answer, Mrs Clere's heavy step was heard approaching the door, and the key turned in the lock.
Le Clere, and to me apart said, 'Small swords, and the governor's woods by the spring' as if he were arranging a quite familiar and every-day affair. "I frankly declared that I was new to an office of this kind, and must trust to Mr. Le Clere's honour and courtesy.
"Audrey, do you know aught of one Elizabeth Foulkes?" "Liz'beth What-did-you-say?" inquired Mrs Wastborowe, hastily drying her arms on her apron, and coming forward. "Elizabeth Foulkes," repeated the Bailiff. "What, yon lass o' Clere's the clothier? Oh, ay, you'll find her in Balcon Lane, at the Magpie. A tall, well-favoured young maid she is might be a princess, to look at her.
I doubt he's but one of your fair-weathered folks, that'll side with Truth when she steps bravely forth in her satin gown and her velvet slippers; but when she comes in a threadbare gown and old clouted shoes, then she's not for their company. There's a many of that sort." "And you think Master Clere's one?" said Margaret, in a tone which sounded as if she did not think so. "I'm feared he is.
Mrs Clere's servant, Elizabeth Foulkes, was her dearest friend. "You'd best give Mistress Elizabeth Foulkes the go by, Rose Allen. She's a cantankerous, ill-beseen hussy, and no good company for you. She'll learn you to do as ill as herself, if you look not out." "But what has Bessy done?" "Gone into school-keeping," said Mrs Clere sarcastically.
Prithee who art thou, to set thee up for better than all the ladies in England, talking of Christian profession as though thou wert a priest?" "I am Mistress Clere's servant-maid; but I set not myself up to be better than any, so far as I know." "Thee hold thy peace! Whether goeth this lace or the wide one best with my blue kirtle?" "The narrower, I would say.
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