THE MAKING OF A PLAYER 163

He had Nick learn no end of stage parts off by heart,
with their cues and “business,” entrances and exits ; and
worked fully as hard as his pupil, reading over every sen-
tence twenty times until Nick had the accent perfectly.
He would have him stamp, too, and turn about, and ges-
ture in accordance with the speech, until the boy’s arms
ached, going with him through the motions one by one,
over and over again, unsatisfied, but patient to the last,
until Nick wondered. “Nick, my lad,’ he would often
say, with a tired but determined smile, “one little thing
done wrong may spoil the finest play, as one bad apple
rots the barrelful. We'll have it right, or not at all, if it
takes a month of Sundays.”

So, often, he kept Nick before a mirror for an hour at a
time, making faces while he spoke his lines, smiling,
frowning, or grimacing as best seemed to fit the part,
antil the boy grew fairly weary of his own looks. Then
sometimes, more often as the time slipped by, Carew
would clap his hands with a boyish laugh, and have a pie
brought and a cup of Spanish cordial for them both, de-
claring that he loved the lad with all his heart, upon the
remnant of his honour: from which Nick knew that he
was coming on.

Cicely Carew’s governess was a Mistress Agnes Anstey.
By birth she had been a Harcourt of Ankerwyke, and
she was therefore everywhere esteemed fit by birth and
breeding to teach the young mind when to bow and when
to beckon. She came each morning to the house, and
Carew paid her double shillings to see to it that Nick