Janet looked around the large room, gauging the mettle of the girls they would have to compete against. Well up toward the rostrum was Margie Blake, petite and blond and exceedingly vivacious. Margie was popular, confessed Janet, and probably stood a good chance of winning a part in the play for she had innate dramatic ability, while Janet, who had taken a leading rôle in the junior play, had been compelled to study each bit of action carefully.
Near Margie was Cora Dean, a pronounced brunette, who had already announced that she intended to have a leading rôle, and Cora had a reputation of getting whatever she went after, whether it was a place on the honor roll or a part in one of the drama club’s one act plays.
“I’m afraid Cora will be after the part I try out for,” whispered Helen. “She’s good, too.”
“She’s not a bit better than you are, and not half as pretty,” retorted Janet.
“But you don’t always win play parts on your looks,” said Helen.
Just then Miss Williams, the dramatics instructor, hurried in. In one hand she carried a large sheaf of mimeographed sheets while in the other was the complete book for the play. Several plays had been tentatively considered, but final approval had been up to Miss Williams and she was to announce the title that morning as well as give out reading parts.
The room quieted down as a few stragglers, coming in at the last minute, found seats at the rear.
Miss Williams sorted the mimeographed sheets into piles and at exactly 8:45 o’clock she rapped briskly on the desk with a ruler. The dramatics teacher was pleasant and almost universally liked. She smiled as she looked over the seniors who had gathered.
“It looks like we’re going to have real competition for the play parts this year,” she said. “I suppose, though, that first you’d like to know the name of the play.”
She paused a moment, then went on.