Tom waved her away. “I can’t be in the play,” he intoned dully. “I won’t be there tomorrow.”
Peggy looked at him incredulously. “But you promised!” she said accusingly.
“I don’t care,” Tom said. “Please—go away now.”
Peggy reached out and took him by the shoulder. “No,” she said urgently. “You can’t do this. I don’t know what’s upset you, but you’ve just got to be there tomorrow morning. Try and face it, whatever it is.” She gave him a gentle shake. “For your sake as well as ours.”
The old man looked at her sadly. “My dear,” he said wistfully, “you don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I know I don’t,” Peggy said. “But we’re depending on you.”
Tom Agate seemed to stand a little straighter even though the hurt look still lingered in his eyes. He gazed at Peggy steadfastly and sighed. “You remind me of someone,” he said at last. “Someone—I knew a long time ago. Will you be there tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Peggy said quietly.
“Do you promise?”
Peggy nodded. “I promise.”