“That was beautiful,” he said in an oddly choked voice. “Simply beautiful. It’s the way the scene was meant to be played all the time.” He reached down, helped Peggy to her feet, and shook Tom Agate’s hand. “Sir,” he said earnestly, “you were magnificent.”
Tom Agate passed a hand over his face. His eyes were lighted with a shy smile of delight. “Nothing to it,” he said. “After all, look at the help I had.” He cocked a quizzical glance at Peter. “Do you mean to say that this girl here”—he waved a hand at Peggy—“isn’t playing the part of the daughter?”
“I’m afraid not,” Peter admitted. “Just the understudy.”
Tom shook his head. “What a waste!”
“It certainly is,” Peter replied. “But Oscar Stalkey thinks she needs some more experience. And the right people to work with,” he added significantly.
“Has he heard her read?”
“He hired her,” Peter pointed out. “He must think she’s pretty fair.”
Peggy felt it was time to interrupt. “Look here, you two,” she broke in. “If you’re quite finished talking about me as if I weren’t here, maybe we can get back to business.”
The two men looked at her. “What business?” Tom demanded.
“Will you try out for the part of the grandfather?”