“Bedlam--Bedlam--nothing less than Bedlam it must have seemed to you, Mr. Wesley,” she said. “I will not contend with you as to the appropriateness of your description,” said he, smiling, still kindly. “The truth is, sir, that I have just returned from paying my first visit to the Bath,” said she. “'Twas the greatest event in my simple life. I went to act as dresser to the Squire's young ladies, and they were so good as to allow me to see mostly all that there was to be seen, and to hear all that there was to be heard.” “What--all? That were a perilous permission that your young ladies gave to you.” “I know not what is meant by all, but I heard much, sir; singers and preachers and players. I was taken to the Cave of Harmony for lovely music, and to the playhouse, where I saw Mistress Woffington in one of her merry parts. I was busy telling of this when you entered the Mill. I was doing my best to shriek like Mistress Woffington.” She spoke lightly and with a certain assurance, as though she were determined to uphold her claim to go whithersoever she pleased. She was in a manner disappointed that he did not at once show himself to be shocked. But he heard her and remained silent himself. Some moments passed; but still he did not speak; he waited. Of course she began to excuse herself; he knew that she would do so. The uneasily confident way in which she had talked of the playhouse had told him that she would soon be accusing herself by her excuses without the need for him to open his lips. “You will understand, sir, I doubt not, that I was but in the position of a servant, though my ladies treated me graciously; I could not but obey them in all matters,” she said. “Does your saying that mean that you had some reluctance in going to the playhouse?” he asked her. “I was not quite--quite--sure,” she replied slowly. “I had heard that the playhouse was a wicked place.” “And therefore you were interested in it--is that so?” “But I asked myself, 'Would my young ladies go to the playhouse--would the Squire, who surely knows a good deal about wickedness, having lived for so many years in London--would the Squire and his lady allow them to go to the playhouse if there was anything evil in it?'” “And so you went and you were delighted with the painted faces on both sides of the stage, and you have remained unsettled ever since, so that you must needs do your best to imitate an actress whose shamelessness of living is in everybody's mouth? I know that you imitated this Woffington woman to your young ladies when you returned warm and excited from the playhouse, and they laughed hugely at your skill.” Nelly stood still, so startled was she at the divination of her companion. “How came you to hear that?” she cried. “Were we not alone in the bedroom? Who could have told you so much?”