“No, no, certainly not until after Thursday!” Richard agreed, chuckling. “We couldn’t take a chance on losing you opening night! He might lock you up in the movies!”
“And I’d have to look at one of those awful pictures twelve times.” They both laughed. “But isn’t it exciting, really?” Peggy said. “I mean the opening—only two more days! It doesn’t seem possible.”
“Two more days,” Richard echoed thoughtfully, “and there’s such a lot to do.”
“NO!” Chuck suddenly shouted from the orchestra, and Peggy and Richard both jumped. “No! How many times do I have to tell you—you cannot throw that line away!”
He ran up on stage and motioned Danny out of the way, saying, “Now watch this! I hate to show you how to do your part, but we can’t get hung up on this every time we play the scene!”
Peggy’s eyes opened wide. She had never seen Chuck Crosby like this before.
“You pause after you say, ‘I got to the turnstile,’ etc. Then you say, ‘I didn’t have a nickel’—and you don’t throw it away! You’ll kill your next line if it isn’t just right. Now watch.”
“I see,” Danny said when Chuck had finished. “Thanks, Chuck.”
“This is not Chekhov we’re playing, it’s a Norman Krasna comedy!” Chuck said, speaking to everybody. “Now suppose we get to work! And stop playing Alison Lord and Chris Hill and Danny Dunn—and Peggy Lane, radio heroine.” He pointed straight at her. “Let’s play Dear Ruth!”
He jumped off the stage and resumed his place down front. “Take it again,” he called, “from the beginning!”