“Oh, come on, Peggy.” Richard patted her shoulder kindly. “It isn’t that important. If you only knew how worried we were about you! I’m so glad you’re safe and sound I don’t give a hoot about the show!”
“Thank you,” Peggy managed to say. “I couldn’t help it—I tried to get back.”
“I know. You can tell me all about it later. Why don’t you go home now and get some rest?”
“No! Oh, no.” Peggy collected herself and took a deep breath. “As long as I’m here, I’m going to watch!” It was a difficult decision. “Who’s doing the model?”
“That girl, June Tilson; she’s winging it.”
“Well, come on, then.” Peggy smiled bravely. “Aren’t you going to give me a seat?”
Richard grinned at her admiringly. “You’re quite a girl, Peggy. I’ll give you the best seat in the house!”
But Peggy preferred to watch from the rear of the auditorium, so she and Richard quietly found places together. It was almost unbearable to see someone else doing her part, but Peggy grimly watched, determined to be as objective as possible. It was doubly difficult to admit that Alison was quite marvelous as Evelyn. She was obviously working on emotion and excitement, but it didn’t matter. She established herself as the star of the play, projecting her self-assurance and technique so that the audience had eyes for no one else on stage. June Tilson did a remarkable job as the model on such short notice. No one but Peggy or another actor could have known that she was reading the part in bits and pieces before she made an entrance, improvising, and finding her lines on the back of furniture where they had been carefully pasted before the show.
“She’s good!” Peggy whispered. “My, she’s good! Winging a part like that takes a lot of courage. I thought she probably would read it.”
“Chuck said she could, but she wanted to do it this way. She’s a fast study, too!” Richard nodded in agreement.