suggested nothing. Ignorance of the existence of evil may sometimes
become the active foe of innocence.

No one learned of the unpleasant experience, so I was spared
disagreeable comment; and, sending for my mother to join me, I devoted
myself to preparations of my opening night.

The meeting with strangers, which I had greatly dreaded, passed off so
easily, even so pleasantly, as to surprise me. Everyone offered a kind
word of greeting, and all the women expressed their sympathy because I
had to open in so poorly dressed a part. That troubled _me_ very little,
however.

The character was that of a country girl (_Cicely_) in some old comedy,
whose name I have forgotten. She wore just one gown--a black and white
print, as she was in mourning for her old, farmer father. A rustic wench,
a milk-maid come up to "Lun'un-town," she had one speech that was a trial
for any woman to have to speak. It was not as brutally expressed as are
many of the speeches given to rustics in the old English comedies--but it
was the _double-entendre_ that made it coarse.

Some of the ladies were speaking with me of the matter, and the "old
woman" suggested that I just mumble the words. I said I could not well do
that, as it was a part of the principal scene of the play.

"Well," declared another, "I should hang my head and let the house see
that I was ashamed of the speech."

I said nothing, but I thought that would be a most inartistic breaking
away from the part of the rustic _Cicely_, and a dragging in of
scandalized Miss Morris.

The girl was supposed to make the speech through blundering ignorance,
she alone not seeing its significance; and to my idea there was but one
way to deliver it, and that certainly was not with a hanging head and
shamefaced manner, thus showing perfect, if disapproving, knowledge of
its double meaning.

When the opening night came a pleasant little thing happened to me. As I
entered with straw hat tied under chin and bundle in hand, I received a
modest little reception, what would about equal the slight raising of a
hat in passing a woman in a corridor; but the moment I had spoken the
first insignificant speech the house gave me as hearty a greeting as any
leading woman could wish for.

I was startled and much confused for a few moments, but very pleased and
grateful withal, yet when I came off, Mr. Macaulay's pleasure seemed
twice as great as mine, and as I laughingly told him so, he said: "Well,
now I'