“In a day or two she might be gone,” Amy blurted out.
“What?” May turned to Amy in blank amazement. “What do you mean?”
“She’s thinking of going back home,” Amy said. “She doesn’t think she’s got enough talent.”
May’s expression hardened as she stared at Peggy. “Well!” she said at last. “Maybe she’s right.”
“May!” came Amy’s shocked voice.
“I mean it,” May said coldly. “There’s no room for anyone in the theater without confidence.” She stalked over to the dresser and began taking dishes off the tray. Amy and Peggy looked at each other in surprise.
Amy was the first to break the silence. “But, May,” she faltered, “couldn’t you—I mean, don’t you think—”
“That she should stay?” May shook her head disdainfully. “Not if she doesn’t think so.” The older woman turned and faced the two girls. “Look here, you two. Whenever an actor or actress gets up on a stage in front of thousands of people, he’s simply got to have confidence in himself. He’s got to think that he’s the only person in the world who can play the part. If he didn’t”—May threw up her hands—“he’d have no business being in the theater.”
May walked over to Amy’s bed and sat down. “That doesn’t mean you have to be vain and egotistical. Somebody like Katherine Nelson, for example. She thinks the sun rises and sets for her own personal enjoyment. Personally, I think her acting suffers because of her attitude, and certainly she’s not a very attractive human being. No, what I’m talking about is something quite different. It’s a quiet pride in your own craft and ability. That’s the quality you need.”
May fixed Peggy with a steady stare. “I know what’s wrong with you, young lady. You just want somebody to tell you how good you are. Well, that’s not surprising. We all need approval. But in the theater, we don’t always get it when we want it, and that means we’ve got to be tough enough to keep on going no matter what people say. I didn’t say hard, I said tough. There’s a big difference. Peggy, look at me.”