“I don’t know,” said Carrie.  “I just don’t seem to be able to do it.”

She was grateful for the drummer’s presence, though.  She had found the company so nervous that her own strength had gone.

“Come on,” said Drouet.  “Brace up.  What are you afraid of?  Go on out there now, and do the trick.  What do you care?”

Carrie revived a little under the drummer’s electrical, nervous condition.

“Did I do so very bad?”

“Not a bit.  All you need is a little more ginger.  Do it as you showed me.  Get that toss of your head you had the other night.”

Carrie remembered her triumph in the room.  She tried to think she could to it.

’What’s next?” he said, looking at her part, which she had been studying.

“Why, the scene between Ray and me when I refuse him.”

“Well, now you do that lively,” said the drummer.  “Put in snap, that’s the thing.  Act as if you didn’t care.”

“Your turn next, Miss Madenda,” said the prompter.

“Oh, dear,” said Carrie.

“Well, you’re a chump for being afraid,” said Drouet.  “Come on now, brace up.  I’ll watch you from right here.”

“Will you?” said Carrie.

“Yes, now go on.  Don’t be afraid.”

The prompter signaled her.

She started out, weak as ever, but suddenly her nerve partially returned.  She thought of Drouet looking.

“Ray,” she said, gently, using a tone of voice much more calm than when she had last appeared.  It was the scene which had pleased the director at the rehearsal.

“She’s easier,” thought Hurstwood to himself.

She did not do the part as she had at rehearsal, but she was better.  The audience was at least not irritated.  The improvement of the work of the entire company took away direct observation from her.  They were making very fair progress, and now it looked as if the play would be passable, in the less trying parts at least.

Carrie came off warm and nervous.

“Well,” she said, looking at him, “was it any better?”

“Well, I should say so.  That’s the way.  Put life into it.  You did that about a thousand per cent. better than you did the other scene.  Now go on and fire up.  You can do it.  Knock ’em.”

“Was it really better?”

“Better, I should say so.  What comes next?”

“That ballroom scene.”

“Well, you can do that all right,” he said.

“I don’t know,” answered Carrie.

“Why, woman,” he exclaimed, “you did it for me!  Now you go out there and do it.  It’ll be fun for you.  Just do as you did in the room.  If you’ll reel it off that way, I’ll bet you make a hit.  Now, what’ll you bet?  You do it.”

The drummer usually allowed his ardent good-nature to get the better of his speech.  He really did think that Carrie had acted this particular scene very well, and he wanted her to repeat it in public.  His enthusiasm was due to the mere spirit of the occasion.