Mr. Lang nodded sadly, mumbled, “I understand,” and walked off, his head hanging and his hands thrust deep in his pockets, looking less like a comedian than any man in the world. Peggy watched him go, not knowing whether to feel sorrier for him or for Mal.
“All right, gentlemen,” Mal called out. “That takes care of the male roles. All of you who are left will be given copies of the play to study, marked at the passages I want to hear. Be sure to read the whole play carefully, so that you understand the workings of the characters you have been selected to read. You have three days to look it over. We’ll meet at ten o’clock on Saturday morning at the Penthouse Theater to hear you. Thank you. And now for the ladies.”
The men left, after being given their scripts, and though they chatted amiably with one another, Peggy was sure that each was casting rather hostile looks toward others who were trying for the same parts. Keeping friendships in the theater was not an easy thing, she thought, particularly for people of similar physical types!
Mal’s first concern in reviewing the actresses was, of course, for the leading role. And, of course, it was for this role that he had the most applicants. More than twenty girls came forward when the announcement was made, and Peggy thought that she had never seen so many striking and beautiful faces and figures. It was not going to be easy for Mal to make a choice. As Paula, her new friend, went forward to join the others, Peggy whispered a word of encouragement, then stood to one side to watch.
Mal went down the line, regretfully dismissing one after the other of the girls, and occasionally asking one to step aside to try for another role. His tough-looking expression hardly varied as he spoke to each one, but Peggy thought she saw the ghost of a smile cross his face when he spoke to Paula Andrews. Another review of the remaining girls eliminated a few more. Finally, there were only four left, Paula among them. Mal thanked them, distributed scripts, and asked them to be at the Penthouse Theater on Saturday at noon.
Paula returned to Peggy with eyes shining. “Oh, Peggy! I think you were right! I just know I’m going to get the part! I know it!”
“Don’t count too much on it,” Peggy cautioned, “or you may be too bitterly disappointed if you don’t get it. But,” she added, enthusiastically violating her own rule of caution, “I’m sure, too! I’ll see you Saturday. Even if I don’t get a script, I’ll be there just to hear you read!”
Then, with a smile of farewell, Peggy turned her attention to the “career woman, early thirties” classification that Mal had called for next. Once that was out of the way, she knew it would be her turn.
This time, there were not so many applicants and Peggy remembered Randy telling her that this would be one of their most difficult roles to cast. Only four actresses came forward, and Mal, with difficulty, reviewed them all. Unable to eliminate by type, he gave them all scripts and asked them to come to the theater. Then he called for “character ingénues” and Peggy joined seven other girls in the “livestock show.”
Mal reviewed them carefully, managing to look at Peggy with complete lack of recognition. He gently eliminated three of them on the basis of hair coloring, height or general type. Another, curiously enough, was eliminated, like Amy, for a Southern accent, and a fifth, also like Amy, was too beautiful. “The part calls for a pretty girl,” Mal said with a rare smile, “but not for a girl so pretty that she’ll dominate the stage! It was a pleasure to look at you, but I’m afraid you’re not quite right for the part.”