“No buts!” Jean cut in. “We’ve talked about this enough before, and I’m not going to change my mind. I’m as sure about what I want as you are about what you want. I’m going to finish college and get my certificate as an English teacher.”
“And what about acting? Can you get it out of your mind as easily as all that?” Peggy asked.
“That’s the dark and devious part of my plan,” Jean answered with a mysterious laugh that ended in a comic witch’s cackle and an unconvincing witch-look that was completely out of place on her round, freckled face. “Once I get into a high school as an English teacher, I’m going to try to teach a special course in the literature of the theater and maybe another one in stagecraft. I’m going to work with the high-school drama group and put on plays. That way, I’ll be in a spot where I can use my special talent of recognizing talent. And that way,” she added, becoming much more serious, “I have a chance really to do something for the theater. If I can help and encourage one or two people with real talent like yours, then I’ll feel that I’ve really done something worth while.”
Peggy nodded silently, not trusting herself to speak for fear of saying something foolishly sentimental, or even of crying. Her friend’s earnestness about the importance of her work and her faith in Peggy’s talent had touched her more than she could say.
The silence lasted what seemed a terribly long time, until Jean broke it by suddenly jumping up and flinging a last pillow which she had been hiding behind her back. Running out of the bedroom, she called, “Come on! I’ll race you down to the kitchen for cocoa! By the time we’re finished, it’ll be about time for your big Hour of Decision scene!”
It was nearly ten o’clock when Peggy finally felt that her parents had had enough time to talk things out. Leaving the Wilson house, she walked slowly despite her eagerness, trying in all fairness to give her mother and father every minute she could. Reaching her home, she cut across the lawn behind the lilac bushes, to the steps up to the broad porch that fronted the house. As she climbed the steps, she heard her father’s voice raised a little above its normal soft, deep tone, but she could not make out the words.
Crossing the porch, she caught sight of him through the window. He was speaking on the telephone, and now she caught his words.
“Fine. Yes.... Yes—I think we can. Very well, day after tomorrow, then. That’s right—all three of us. And, May—it’ll be good to see you again, after all these years! Good-by.”
As Peggy entered the room, her father put down the phone and turned to Mrs. Lane. “Well, Betty,” he said, “it’s all set.”
“What’s all set, Dad?” Peggy said, breaking into a run to her father’s side.