“She feels terrible,” Amy answered. “She’s the original Calamity Jane.”
“Uh huh.” May nodded. “Feeling sorry for yourself, eh? Here, try some of this soup.” She looked at Peggy sharply. “What’s the matter? Did you walk out on the stage with two left feet?”
Peggy smiled briefly. “That’s just about it. I did a dreadful job.”
May put a plate of soup on Peggy’s lap. “Who said so?” she demanded brusquely.
“Nobody had to tell me,” Peggy said. “I was there. He stopped me after five lines.”
May whistled admiringly. “Five lines! Say, that’s pretty good. I remember my first audition—they didn’t even let me take a deep breath.”
“Come on!”
“I’m not joking. Tell me, were your legs shaking?”
Peggy laughed. “I didn’t think I could make it to the stage.”
“I know the feeling. It’s like trying to walk across a plate of Jello. Well,” May said cheerfully, “you’ve got all the right symptoms. You should recover in a day or two.”