“We have a system,” Dot said. “Each of us cooks for all the others in turn, but that’s only for breakfast. At dinnertime, you shift for yourself. The dishes are done for us, thank Heaven, by Aniko, the housemaid. We each contribute to a dishwashing fund every week to keep Aniko happy. Since you’re both new, we’ll put you at the end of the list, which gives you about a week to get used to us in the morning, before having to cook for us.”
“She’s being optimistic,” Maggie called over her shoulder from her position at the range. “It’s impossible to get used to us in the morning. How do you like your eggs?”
They settled on scrambled, which was diplomatic, since they noticed that Maggie was whipping up a bowl of them for the others. In short order, they were seated around the long table, eagerly eating the eggs, bacon, toast and fresh sliced tomatoes, and washing it down with good, hot coffee.
Irene and Greta huddled together, looking over a copy of Variety and writing in small notebooks. Catching Peggy’s inquiring glance, Irene explained, “It’s Variety, the bible of show business. We’re looking at the casting notes. Every time a producer has a play and wants to see new actors, he puts a notice in the casting call page. The notices tell you what kind of people he’s looking for and when he’ll see them. We’re looking—along with a thousand other actors—to see if there’s something for us. I’ve got two that sound interesting, and Greta’s got one.”
“And do you just go up and say, ‘Here I am’?” Amy asked.
“That’s about all I do,” Irene admitted with a laugh, “because I just answer the ads for Showgirl types and beautiful ingénue roles. I just stand there and hope they like my face and figure.”
“I don’t see how they couldn’t,” Peggy said.
“Oh, it’s easy! I’m too tall for some, and too fashionable-looking for others, or I should be blond, or they wanted an outdoor type, or I’m just what they’re looking for, but so are twelve other girls who all have more acting credits. It’s not easy.”
“It’s no easier for me,” Greta put in mournfully. “I’m an even more definite physical type than Irene is, and to make matters worse, I have to act for them. Most of the time, my round, red face and my blond braids eliminate me at the start. If they don’t, I then have to go through an audition reading. I’m just waiting for a casting notice that asks for a new actress with a face like a Campbell’s Soup kid, and I’ll rush right up and get the part!”
“If I ever meet any playwrights, I’ll put in a word for a part like that,” Peggy said. “But by then, you’ll be famous, and the ‘new actress’ part would disqualify you.”