“Well, at least you can say good-by.” Randy smiled. “The day you play there is the day I leave.”
“Leave!” Peggy suddenly had an inspiration. “Oh, Randy, why don’t you stay here for another week? We’re going to need so many people in You Can’t Take It with You—I’m sure Chuck and Richard would love to have you.”
“The Russian!” Alison cried. “Everyone’s been biting their nails, wondering who could play the Russian!”
“Oh, yes, you’d be perfect, Randy,” Peggy urged. “And I’m doing Essie, the little ballerina. We could work together—do say you’ll stay!”
“We-e-ell,” Randy hesitated, “I suppose I don’t have to rush back—”
“You’re absolutely sure?” Chris asked, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, we wouldn’t want you to miss anything in New York—” He looked at Peggy for a moment, and noticing her pained expression, laughed good-naturedly, leaning across the table to shake Randy’s hand. “Okay. You win, Mr. Brewster! I can’t compete with old school ties and all that. You would be great for the part and we’d love to have you.”
The boys shook hands, grinning at each other, while Peggy looked on, happy and relieved. Chris had evidently decided to “bury the hatchet.”
Alison seemed a little mystified. “What’s going on with you two? You look as though you had a deep, dark secret.”
“Deep, but not dark, Alison,” Chris laughed. “Light as summer. Which reminds me, who knows something good for mosquito bites? They’ve decided all of a sudden that I’m a particularly delectable morsel!”
“Oh, oh, you’ve come to the right place,” Bill Slade offered eagerly. “Take it from an old hand—”