He had observed Christie, attracted by her intelligent face and modest manners, for in spite of her youth there was a native refinement about her that made it impossible for her to romp and flirt as some of her mates did. But till she played Tilly he had not thought she possessed any talent. That pleased him, and seeing how much she valued his praise, and was flattered by his notice, he gave her the wise but unpalatable advice always offered young actors. Finding that she accepted it, was willing to study hard, work faithfully, and wait patiently, he predicted that in time she would make a clever actress, never a great one. Of course Christie thought he was mistaken, and secretly resolved to prove him a false prophet by the triumphs of her career. But she meekly bowed to his opinion; this docility pleased him, and he took a paternal sort of interest in her, which, coming from the powerful favorite, did her good service with the higher powers, and helped her on more rapidly than years of meritorious effort. Toward the end of that second season several of Dickens’s dramatized novels were played, and Christie earned fresh laurels. She loved those books, and seemed by instinct to understand and personate the humor and pathos of many of those grotesque creations. Believing she had little beauty to sacrifice, she dressed such parts to the life, and played them with a spirit and ease that surprised those who had considered her a dignified and rather dull young person. “I’ll tell you what it is, Sharp, that girl is going to make a capital character actress. When her parts suit, she forgets herself entirely and does admirably well. Her Miggs was nearly the death of me to-night. She’s got that one gift, and it’s a good one. You’d better give her a chance, for I think she’ll be a credit to the old concern.” Kent said that,—Christie heard it, and flew to Lucy, waving Miggs’s cap for joy as she told the news. “What did Mr. Sharp say?” asked Lucy, turning round with her face half “made up.” “He merely said ‘Hum,’ and smiled. Wasn’t that a good sign?” said Christie, anxiously. “Can’t say,” and Lucy touched up her eyebrows as if she took no interest in the affair. Christie’s face fell, and her heart sunk at the thought of failure; but she kept up her spirits by working harder than ever, and soon had her reward. Mr. Sharp’s “Hum” did mean yes, and the next season she was regularly engaged, with a salary of thirty dollars a week.