She tossed off the drink in gallant fashion: “I tell you, sweetheart, we men need lots of stimulating.”
“You are all of a tremble,” continued Moll.
“Little wonder!” sighed Nell. “These braveries are a trifle chilly, sweet mouse. Boo!” She laughed hysterically, while Moll closed the window. “You see, I never was a man before, and I had all that lost time to make up–acres of oats to scatter in one little night. Open my throat; I cannot breathe. Take off my sword. The wars are done, I hope.” She startled Moll, who was encasing her mistress’s pretty feet in a pair of dainty shoes, with another wild, hilarious laugh. “Moll,” she continued, “I was the gayest mad-cap there. The sex were wild for me. I knew their weak points of attack, lass. If I had been seeking a mate, I could have made my market of them all and started a harem.”
She seemed to forget all her dangers past in the recollection.
“Wicked girl,” said Moll, pouting reprovingly.
“Oh, I am a jolly roisterer, little one,” laughed Nell, in reply, as with cavalier-strides she crossed the room. She threw herself upon the table and proceeded to boast of her doings for Moll’s benefit, swinging her feet meanwhile. “I ran the gamut. I had all the paces of the truest cavalier. I could tread a measure, swear like one from the wars, crook my elbow, lie, gamble, fight–Fight? Did I say fight?”
She hid her curly head in her hands and sobbed spasmodically.
“You have been in danger!” exclaimed Moll, fearfully.
“Danger!” repeated Nell, breaking out afresh. “I taught the King a lesson he will dream about, my sweet, though it near cost me my life. He loves me, d’ye hear; he loves me, pretty one! Dance, Moll, dance–Dance, I say! I could fly for very joy!”
With the tears still wet upon her cheeks, she seized Moll by both hands and whirled the astonished girl wildly about the room, until she herself reeled for want of breath. Then, catching at a great carved oaken chair, she fell into it and cried and laughed alternately.