Doctor Bates’ examination was quick but thorough.
“Mild concussion, I’d say. She must go to bed at once and remain there, perfectly quiet, for at least twenty-four hours.”
Margie struggled to her feet and was as promptly returned to the couch by the doctor, who forced her to choke back her words.
“Sure, I understand,” he said. “You’ve got a part in the play and you’ve got to go on. That’s the tradition of the theater. But this isn’t a theater. This is a high school play and young lady you’re not going to risk serious injury to yourself by doing any such thing as attempting to appear in this play. I’m going to take you home right now.”
Doctor Bates, who usually had his way, helped Margie out to his car. It was a tearful and protesting Margie, but Miss Williams joined in insisting that she go home and there was nothing else for her to do.
By the time Margie was on her way home the first rows of the gym were filling with spectators and Miss Williams, a look of desperate intent upon her face, called the cast together on the stage.
“We’ve got to go on for this means so much to me and to you. Try and forget, if you can, what has happened to Margie. Do everything you can to help the girl I’m going to push into Margie’s rôle. If she stumbles on her lines or forgets them, fake until you can pick it up again.”
Then she swung toward Janet.
“Can you get anything from home you can wear for the first act—something very light and pretty. You’ll be able to wear the costumes intended for Margie in the other two acts.”
“You mean you want me to step in and take Margie’s rôle?” asked Janet.