“In that case, I presume you were appearing in the former _rôle_ before you arrived at the inn,” said Kitty, whose sarcasm was at no time deficient in breadth. Even Mr. Bates was beginning to appreciate her last sally, when she added, “I do not remember having seen your name in a bill of any of the London playhouses, Mr. Bates.” “I have never appeared in London, madam,” said Mr. Bates, “and, so far as I can gather, I have not lost much by remaining in the country.” “Nay, but think what the playgoers of London have lost, Mr. Bates,” said Kitty solemnly. “I do think of it,” cried the man. “Yes, I swear to you that I do. When I hear of the upstarts now in vogue I feel tempted sometimes to put my pride in my pocket and appear in London.” “Before starting in London, a person needs to have his pockets full of something besides pride,” said Kitty. “There are other ways of making a fortune besides appearing on the London stage. Why should men come to London to act when they may become highwaymen in the country--ay, or inn-keepers--another branch of the same profession?” “It is clear, madam, that you have no high opinion of the stage. To let you into a secret--neither have I.” Mr. Bates' voice sank to a whisper, and he gave a confidential wink or two while making this confession. Kitty was now truly surprised. Most actors of the stamp of Mr. Bates, whom she had met, had a profound belief in the art of acting, and particularly in themselves as exponents of that art. “What, sir!” she cried, “are you not an actor on your own confession, whatever the critics may say?” “I admit it, my dear lady; but at the same time, I repeat that I have no faith in the stage. Acting is the most unconvincing of the arts. Is there ever a human being outside Bedlam who fancies that the stage hero is in earnest?” “I should say that the force of the illusion is largely dependent upon the actor,” said Kitty. “Nothing of the sort, I assure you,” said Bates, with a pitying smile--the smile of the professor for the amateur. “The greatest of actors--nay, even I myself, madam, fail to carry an audience along with me so as to make my hearers lose sight of the sham. What child would be imposed on by the sufferings of the stage hero or heroine? What school miss would fail to detect the ring of falsehood in the romance of what authors call their plots?” “You fancy that everyone should be capable of detecting the difference between a woman's account of her real woes and an actress's simulation of such woes?” “That is my contention, madam. The truth has a ring about it that cannot be simulated by even the best actress.” “Dear, dear!” cried Kitty, lifting up her hands. “What a wonder it is that any persons can be prevailed upon to go evening after evening to the playhouses! Why, I myself go--yes, frequently. Indeed--perhaps I should blush to confess it--I am a constant attender at Drury Lane. I do not believe I should be able to live without going to the playhouse!”