"Well, I got hold of Schneider yesterday, and read it to him, and he says he can get me four or five weeks' booking at least, if I can put it over at the try-out. How does that strike you?"
"Why—I'm glad," Joan faltered, still mystified. "It must be fine to get something to do."
"Well, I haven't got it yet; and of course, maybe I won't get it. One of the first things you gotta learn in this business is, never spend your pay envelope till you got it in your mitt. And in this case, a lot depends on you."
"I don't get you," Joan returned frankly. "What've I got to do with it?"
Quard smiled indulgently, offered her a cigarette, which she refused, and lighted one for himself.
"If I can't get you to play the woman's part," he said, spurting twin jets of smoke through his nostrils, "it's all up—unless I can hitch up with summonelse just like you."
"You mean—you want me to—to act—?"
"Right, the very first time outa the box! Yunno, it's this way with these cheap houses: they can't afford to pay much for a turn, even a good one—and this one of ours is going to be about as bum as any act that ever broke through: take that from me. So it's up to me to find somebody who'll work with me for little enough money to leave something for myself, after I've squared up with the agent and stage-hands, and all that. You make me now?"
"Yes; but I haven't any experience—"
"That's just it: if you had, I couldn't afford you. But you gotta start sometime, and it won't do you no harm to get wise to what little I can teach you. Now the most I can count on dragging down for this act is sixty a week. I want twenty-five of that for myself. Fifteen, more will fix the agent and the rest. That leaves twenty for you. It ain't much, but it's a long sight better than nothing."