The doctor looked up, amazed, deliberately put down his pen, cast a scrutinising glance at his daughter, then said tentatively:
“Want to go on the stage, eh?”
“Yes, I wish to be an actress. I have had an offer—oh, such a delightful offer—to play a girl’s part in the forthcoming production at one of our best theatres.”
Her father made no comment, only looked again steadily at the girl in order to satisfy himself that she was speaking seriously. Then he took the letter she held out, read it most carefully, folded it up—in what the would-be actress thought an exasperatingly slow fashion—and after a pause observed:
“So this is the result of allowing you to play in private theatricals. What folly!”
The girl started up—fire flashed from her eyes, and her lips trembled as she retorted passionately:
“I don’t see any folly, I only see a great career opening before me. I want to go on the stage and make a name.”
The doctor looked more grave than ever, but replied calmly:
“You are very young—you have only just been to your first ball; you know nothing whatever about the world or work.”
“But I can learn, and intend to do so.”