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. When the time came, he buoyed Carrie up most effectually. He began to make her feel as if she had done very well. The old melancholy of desire began to come back as he talked at her, and by the time the situation rolled around she was running high in feeling. “I think I can do this.” “Sure you can. Now you go ahead and see.” On the stage, Mrs. Van Dam was making her cruel insinuation against Laura. Carrie listened, and caught the infection of something—she did not know what. Her nostrils sniffed thinly. “It means,” the professional actor began, speaking as Ray, “that society is a terrible avenger of insult. Have you ever heard of the Siberian wolves? When one of the pack falls through weakness, the others devour him. It is not an elegant comparison, but there is something wolfish in society. Laura has mocked it with a pretence, and society, which is made up of pretence, will bitterly resent the mockery.” At the sound of her stage name Carrie started. She began to feel the bitterness of the situation. The feelings of the outcast descended upon her. She hung at the wing’s edge, wrapt in her own mounting thoughts. She hardly heard anything more, save her own rumbling blood. “Come, girls,” said Mrs. Van Dam, solemnly, “let us look after our things. They are no longer safe when such an accomplished thief enters.”