After giving Merry a few pointers, the stage-manager observed:
“You did surprisingly well this afternoon, Merriwell.”
“Thank you,” said Frank.
“If you get stuck to-night for the exact lines, do you think you can fake?”
“I believe so.”
“Well, don’t try it if there is any chance of getting off your trolley and mixing yourself and everybody else. Faking lines is a dangerous and reprehensible practice, and the resort of lazy actors who will not learn their parts; but there are times when faking cannot very well be avoided, and the ability to do it well on such occasions is worth much to a man. Don’t try it to-night, Merriwell, unless you have some idea of the real gist of your speech and feel certain you can finish by giving the next speaker the proper cue.”
“All right, sir.”
Havener looked at Frank doubtfully, and then suddenly said:
“Don’t get the swelled head, but if you do as well in playing to-night as you did at rehearsing this afternoon, you’ll show yourself a wonder. I don’t often say anything like this to anybody, but somehow I felt that it might encourage you without doing you any harm, and I want to give you all the encouragement possible.”
“Thank you again,” came simply from Frank.