’In my master’s apartment, answered Will.  Is she not?  Was she not talking with you this moment?

’No, that’s Mrs. Dolins’s journey-woman.

’They both stood aghast, as they said; Will, again recollecting he had seen Mabell, as he thought, go out in her own clothes.  And while they were debating and wondering, up comes Dorcas with your fourth letter, just then brought for the lady, and seeing Mabell dressed out, (whom she had likewise beheld a little before), as she supposed, in her common clothes; she joined in the wonder; till Mabell, re-entering the lady’s apartment, missed her own clothes; and then suspecting what had happened, and letting the others into the ground of the suspicion, they all agreed that she had certainly escaped.  And then followed such an uproar of mutual accusation, and you should have done this, and you have done that, as alarmed the whole house; every apartment in both houses giving up its devil, to the number of fourteen or fifteen, including the mother and her partners.

’Will. told them his story; and then ran out, as on the like occasion formerly, to make inquiry whether the lady was seen by any of the coachmen, chairmen, or porters, plying in that neighbourhood:  while Dorcas cleared herself immediately, and that at the poor Mabell’s expense, who made a figure as guilty as awkward, having on the suspected price of her treachery; which Dorcas, out of envy, was ready to tear from her back.

’Hereupon all the pack opened at the poor wench, while the mother foamed at the mouth, bellowed out her orders for seizing the suspected offender; who could neither be heard in her own defence, nor had she been heard, would have been believed.

’That such a perfidious wretch should ever disgrace her house, was the mother’s cry; good people might be corrupted; but it was a fine thing if such a house as her’s could not be faithfully served by cursed creatures who were hired knowing the business they were to be employed in, and who had no pretence to principle!—­D—­n her, the wretch proceeded!—­She had no patience with her! call the cook, and call the scullion!

’They were at hand.

’See, that guilty pyeball devil, was her word—­(her lady’s gown upon her back)—­but I’ll punish her for a warning to all betrayers of their trust.  Put on the great gridiron this moment, [an oath or a curse at every word:] make up a roaring fire—­the cleaver bring me this instant—­I’ll cut her into quarters with my own hands; and carbonade and broil the traitress for a feast to all the dogs and cats in the neighbourhood, and eat the first slice of the toad myself, without salt or pepper.

’The poor Mabell, frighted out of her wits, expected every moment to be torn in pieces, having half a score open-clawed paws upon her all at once.  She promised to confess all.  But that all, when she had obtained a hearing, was nothing:  for nothing had she to confess.