“Is it all right?” Peggy asked. Noting her mother’s admiring nod, she added, “I packed my gray silk suit and two dresses—the green print and the blue dress-up, in case we go someplace. I mean someplace dressy, for dinner or something. And I have the right shoes packed, too, and stockings and blouses and toothbrush and everything,” she added, anticipating her mother’s questions.
Mrs. Lane smiled and sighed. “Well, I suppose there’s no use my pretending that you’re not all grown up and able to take care of yourself! You pass inspection with flying colors! Now, let’s get that jacket off and get an apron on—we have some work to do!”
Peggy and her mother went into the kitchen to prepare what Mr. Lane always called his “traveling breakfast,” a huge repast of wheat cakes, eggs, sausages and coffee, with plenty of orange juice to start, maple syrup to soak the wheat cakes in, and more coffee to finish up on. While breakfast was cooking, Mr. Lane was on the phone, confirming their plane reservations and, when this was done, arranging for hotel rooms in New York. The last phone call was finished barely a minute before the first steaming stack of wheat cakes was set on the kitchen table.
“Well,” he said, sitting down to look with satisfaction at his plate, “everything’s under control. We leave at two this afternoon, which should have us in New York by five. That gives us plenty of time. We’ll leave the house about one.”
“Plenty of time!” Peggy wailed. “What about my reading? I’ve got to get started right away!” She gave a fairly convincing performance of someone who must get started right away, except for the fact that she showed not the least sign of moving until she had finished her breakfast.
During the meal, the talk was all of reservations, changing planes at Chicago, what kind of rooms they would have at the hotel, and all the many little details of a trip, but Peggy hardly heard. She was still sorting out plays and roles in her mind and trying to make a decision.
By the second cup of coffee, her decision was made. “I’ve got it!” she announced in triumph and relief. “I’ll prepare three short readings instead of one long one! That’ll give them a chance to see the kinds of things I can do, and if I’m bad in one, I’ll have two more chances!”
“Makes sense,” her father agreed. “What three parts do you think you’ll try?”
“I’m not completely sure,” Peggy said, “but at least I know what kinds of parts they’ll be, and that will make the job easier. One of them will surely be Viola in Twelfth Night because I’ve done it, and I’ve always felt that it was me, and besides, it’s Shakespeare, and I think I ought to have one Shakespeare anyway.”
“That’s a good choice,” Mrs. Lane said. “Now I think you’d better pick out one that’s more dramatic and another that’s something of a comedy or a character part, don’t you?”