“Do?” Peggy said vacantly. “I guess I’d go back home and do what Dad wanted me to do all along. Be a schoolteacher.”
“You wouldn’t be happy,” Amy said gently.
“No,” Peggy admitted. “I suppose I wouldn’t. But it would be better than this.”
Amy crossed the room with firm strides and sat down on the bed beside Peggy. Her usually cheerful face was set in a serious line. “Now you listen to me, Peggy Lane,” she said severely. “I don’t know how you read today and I don’t care. The important thing is that this was your very first audition for an important play. Of course, you were nervous. Who wouldn’t be? Maybe you didn’t do as well as you thought you could, but that doesn’t mean you can’t. Two nights ago, I was the one who wanted to quit, and remember what you said to me then. You told me to face up to what happened and not let it get me down. And now here you’re doing the very thing you warned me against.”
“Yes, but Amy,” Peggy said, “tell me something, frankly.”
“What is it?”
Peggy paused to choose her words with care. “Supposing—just suppose now, you discovered you didn’t have any talent—”
Amy tossed her head angrily. “Oh, Peggy!” she cried reproachfully.
“Now don’t interrupt,” Peggy said. “Just let me finish and answer my question. If you found out you didn’t have any talent as an actress, would you still try to break into the theater? Or would you give it up, much as you loved it?”
Amy stared at her thoughtfully. “I don’t know, Peggy,” she said. “I honestly don’t know. What made you think of that?”