“You mean he hasn’t shown up?” she asked a bit vacantly.
“Your perception is remarkable,” returned the harassed stage official with pardonable sarcasm. “No, Terry isn’t here. Do you know whether he had any intention of putting in an appearance at this show tonight when you last saw him?”
Dorothy was wide awake now. “Of course he had!”
“He didn’t mention some more important date, perhaps?”
“Of course not. Terry wouldn’t do such a thing!”
“Well, he goes on in less than two minutes. Who in blazes am I to get to double for him? Deliver me from amateurs! There’s your cue, Miss Dixon—better take it!”
“Hey, you, Bill!” she heard him call to a stage hand, as she made her entrance. “Duck into the men’s dressing room and bring me Terry Walters’ overalls and wig. Here’s where I do his stuff without a makeup!”
Terry failed to show up during the first part of the program, so during the intermission, Dorothy slipped out front and sought the delinquent’s father and mother in the audience.
“Why, my dear, I’m quite as surprised as you are,” gurgled Mrs. Walters. “Isn’t this rain disgusting? You looked perfectly lovely Dorothy—and you did splendidly, splendidly, my dear. I thought I’d die when your rope of pearls broke and you went hunting for them—a perfect scream, my dear—the funniest thing in the show!”
“Those were Betty Mayo’s pearls,” said Dorothy. “I wasn’t in that act. You say Terry left the house in plenty of time, and he expected to drive straight down here?”