“I saw a girl today,” Peggy said. “She read at the audition. Craig Claiborne stopped her before she could say three words—”
“There, you see!” Amy interrupted triumphantly. “You did better than that!”
Peggy smiled wanly. “Yes, but not much. Anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that Claiborne was right in stopping her. She was no good at all.” She tucked her legs underneath her and leaned forward. “Now here’s a girl,” Peggy went on, “who obviously thinks she’s got ability. But actually she doesn’t. Isn’t she just deluding herself by going on?”
Amy shrugged. “You never know. She might get better.”
Peggy shook her head emphatically. “Not a chance in the world. You can tell about some people. And, in a strange sort of way, I think she knew it, too. You should have seen her face when Claiborne told her she could go. It was as if she had heard the same thing so many times.”
“Well, how does all this apply to you?” Amy asked.
“I’m getting to that. How many girls want to be actresses, do you think?”
Amy thought for a moment. “Thousands, I guess.”
“And a lot of them have some talent,” Peggy continued eagerly. “They take part in school plays and church pageants and all that sort of thing. Everybody tells them how good they are, and pretty soon they begin to believe them. But Amy! What a difference between being the best actress in your home town and competing in New York!”
“Don’t I know it!” Amy sighed.