were in the
secret by her spirited acting.

But at the end of Act Three, Nancy, who had slipped behind the scenes to
congratulate her chum, and to tell her that her wig was the least bit
askew, was surprised and alarmed to find Judith almost in tears.

"I can't do the last act, Nancy, I simply can't. My face feels all stiff
and solemn. I can't laugh and joke, I can't, no matter how I try"--and
two tears actually rolled down her cheeks. She was tired out, and the
very imagination which had made it possible for her to be for the moment
the gloomy old miser, now made it seem impossible for her to change him
in a few minutes into a jolly, generous, incarnation of old Father
Christmas.

Nancy was horrified and distracted. She did her best, but with seemingly
no avail, and then she had one of those inspirations, which seem almost
heaven-sent. Hurrying back and learning that there were still four or
five minutes before the curtain would rise, she sought Catherine, who
luckily had left her seat during the interlude.

"Captain," she said, saluting, "there is one of the crew who needs your
help; can you come at once?"

And then, as they neared the stage--

"It's Judy, Cathy," she whispered; "do buck her up. She has been such a
brick, but she is so tired that she feels that she can't do the last
act."

Catherine waited for no more explanations, but went swiftly behind the
curtain, where she found Judith trying to look cheerful, but making a
dismal failure of it. "Careful," said Cathy to herself. "I mustn't be
sympathetic or she will break down."

Judith looked up, and instead of the dreaded warning that the curtain
was going up, here was Catherine saluting her merrily.

"Good work, Judy! The 'Jolly Susan' needs a first mate; can I induce you
to accept the job?" And she put a steadying arm round the new mate's
shoulders. "You've been splendid; we're all proud of you, and especially
we of the 'Jolly Susan.'"

No more question of can or can't. Judith felt that she could do anything
for her captain and here was a chance. She threw herself into the
unforgettable scene of Scrooge's awakening, and the whole school was
infected with the joyousness of her declaration: "I am as light as a
feather. I am as happy as an angel. I am as merry as a schoolboy. A
Merry Christmas to everybody, a Happy New Year to all the world. Hullo,
here, whoop! Hullo."

And every one was quite ready to agree with Scrooge's declaration at the
end o