There were a great many figures, as many as the stage would hold. And, as it was the first time the wax-works had been attempted, the children were particularly anxious that it should go off well, and that the dresses should be especially brilliant. So everyone worked hard, and Nan did her utmost to help, and was as excited about it as anyone.
The evening before the performance there was to be a dress-rehearsal on the stage which the carpenter had put up in the school-room, and six excited little Beresfords were packed into the wagonette with the German governess, and driven over to Ripley. Fräulein was rather excited too, for she was to sing a song in an interval of the performance, and also to represent the Chinese giant in the wax-works.
But when they reached the village school-room they found the other members of the company in low spirits, for they had received a blow. Johnnie Chorley, who was to have been “Jack-in-the-box,” had so bad a cold that he was not to play.
“I knew how it would be,” said Agatha, the eldest girl, despondingly, “when Johnnie wouldn’t change his boots yesterday. And now there will be no Jack-in-the-box; and it was one of the best.”
“Can’t someone else take it?” said Tom Beresford, looking round.
“No one small enough for the tub,” was the answer; “Johnnie is such a mite, and made such good faces.”
Nan’s heart beat fast. It was on her lips to say, “I am small enough,” but she did not dare. She only pushed herself a little in front, and stared up at Tom and Agatha with solemn, longing eyes.
The former, a tall boy of fifteen, who was stage-manager on these occasions, stood whistling in a perplexed manner, and his eyes fell on the compact little figure in front of him.
“Hallo!” he said suddenly, “I have it. Here’s your Jack!”
He took Nan up and stood her on a form near.