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.
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