When Isabella knocked on Clara's door an hour later, she was still in front of her mirror reminiscing on her present life. She sure needed financial help, but she didn't imagine that she would be held up in such a big house playing home and mistress to a couple of young servants and hard headed older women.
The tiny knock came for the second time, and she quickly swung round on the dressing table stool and held out a welcoming hand. "Come on in, pumpkin. She said. Once Isabella stepped in, she flashed a cute and reassuring smile toward the girl. "I will be ready in a bit."
Isabella watched her pull open drawers, but she sad nothing. Only when Clara picked up one of the hair brushes in her drawers to brush her hair, did the little girl ask in a voice of suppressed fury, "Why are you using that brush?"
