  Rockport had never looked so little as it did from the air. The plane circled the town at dusk, just as the stewardess finished serving supper, and as Peggy looked down from the oval window next to her seat, she saw the street lights suddenly flick on, section by section, all over the town. The familiar streets glowed under their canopies of trees, the houses were almost hidden under other trees and, in the center of the town, a few neon lights added warmth and color. Peggy hardly knew what she felt for the place where she had been born and where she had lived her whole life. A wave of tenderness came over her for Rockport, so small and homelike, surrounded by its farms and forests and lakes. And at the same time, she compared this view from the air with the sight of New York, towering and dramatic in the afternoon sunshine. Who could settle for Rockport, after breathing the excitement of the giant city? Still ... she wondered if New York could ever be to her the home that Rockport was. The somewhat bumpy runway of Armory Field was under their wheels. Peggy was home again. But in her mind, she was still in the city, starting her new and wonderful life. After quickly unpacking and changing to a skirt and blouse more suitable to Rockport than the smart traveling suit she had worn on the plane, Peggy came running downstairs. Her father sat in his easy chair reading the two issues of the Eagle that had come out in his absence. Her mother sat in the wing chair opposite, working serenely on her needle point. To look at them, Peggy thought, one would suppose that they had never left home, that nothing at all had changed from what it had been two days ago. “I’m going out for a while,” she announced. “I’ve just got to tell Jean right away, or I’ll burst for sure!” “All right, dear,” Mrs. Lane said. “But don’t stay out too late. You’ve had an exciting day, and you’re going to need some sleep.” With a wave of her hand, Peggy left and, whistling boyishly, skipped down the front steps. Once on the street, the last of her grown-up reserve left her, and she ran all the way to the Wilson house to arrive, panting and breathlessly bright-eyed, a few moments later. “Jean’s down at the Sweet Shop,” Mrs. Wilson said, “but I know she’ll want to see you. I’ll call and tell her not to leave, and you can meet her there.” Peggy thanked Mrs. Wilson briefly, and ran back home once more to collect her bike. As she pedaled down Chestnut Street, she wondered how many more times she would ride her bike again. It was not the sort of thing one did in New York, obviously. And besides, the bike was a part of her childhood and early teens, and now she was coming out of them and off to the great adventure of becoming a woman! Thinking this, she slowed down a little, so as to enjoy the ride and the familiar sights around her. Growing up would happen soon enough, she now knew. Meanwhile, she wanted to slowly taste and enjoy the pleasures of small-town girlhood that were not to come again. Her subdued mood lasted only until she arrived at the Sweet Shop. There she found Jean, Betty Dugan, Alice Schultz, and Millie Pratt crowded around a soda-laden table, laughing and talking. They managed to make room for one more chair and as soon as Peggy was seated, turned silent, expectant faces to her. Looking from face to face, Peggy suddenly laughed. “You look like a nestful of baby birds waiting to be fed!” Then she told her friends the whole story of her trip, starting, of course, with the main fact that she had been accepted at Mr. Macaulay’s famous New York Dramatic Academy. Describing him, she acted him out for them, and soon had the girls in fits of laughter. Then she went on to tell about May Berriman, the room she would live in, the quaint old-fashioned neighborhood around Gramercy Park, the private park and all the rest. When she had finished, she said to Jean, “Doesn’t it make you want to change your mind? I do wish you’d come, too. It’s going to be wonderful, but with you there, it would be absolutely perfect!” Jean shook her head ruefully. “I must admit it sounds tempting,” she said, “but I stand on what I told you before about what I want to do. I don’t think I’m an actress at all, and if I tried to be one, I’d probably only fail. And that wouldn’t make me happy at all. If I do what I plan to, though, I’ll probably succeed, and that way I’ll have a happy life.” Peggy nodded her agreement. “I guess I was only testing you, in a way,” she admitted, “just to see if you really meant it. Now that I know you do, I’m sure that you’re absolutely right.” Then she told her friend about the discussion she had had with May Berriman about Mr. Macaulay, and what the older woman had told Peggy about his great ability as a teacher and his lack of ability as an actor. “She said, too, that the ability to recognize talent and to develop it is a lot rarer than the talent itself. And all the time she was talking, I was thinking about you and our last talk together.” “Well, that makes me feel a lot better,” Jean admitted. “It’s good to know that there are other people—real professionals—who think about things the same way I do. Thanks for telling me.” Then the talk turned to other things besides the theater: clothes, boys, the coming school year at Rockport Community College, for which Peggy would not be there—all the hundreds of things that girls talk about. Before Peggy realized it, it was ten-thirty, and she was beginning to yawn. “It’s not the company,” she said, “it’s the hour. Not exactly original, but perfectly true. I’m afraid I’d better be getting home.” The others agreed that it was their bedtime too, and they trooped out to the bicycle rack to say their good nights. Peggy and Jean rode side by side slowly down the leafy street, feeling the first slight chill that announced the end of summer was at hand. “When will you be leaving?” Jean asked. “I guess in about a week,” Peggy said. “The term starts in two weeks, and I want to get settled in New York before school begins, so that I can have my mind all clear for work. I think I’ll need a week just to get really comfortable in my room, do the shopping I’ll have to do, and find my way around the city. I want to know about buses and subways and things like that before I get started.” “That sounds like a good idea to me,” Jean replied. “What I would do if I were you is to get a street map of the city, and a guidebook, and spend some time just wandering around so you get the idea of where things are.” “That’s just what I plan to do,” Peggy said. “In fact, my father suggested the same thing. He said that I should go on a few guided tours, too. They have buses that take tourists all around the city and show them everything of interest. Dad says that native New Yorkers, and people who are trying to make other people think that they’re native New Yorkers, are ashamed to be seen on the sight-seeing buses, which seems pretty silly to me. The result is that people who come from out of town often know more about New York than the people who have grown up there!” Both girls laughed at the idea, then Peggy continued, “I plan to spend at least a week taking tours, and walking around the streets with a guidebook, and shopping. I’d better leave next week, I guess.” “It seems so soon,” Jean said a little sadly. “I’m going to miss you.” “It is soon,” Peggy admitted, “but I’d rather be rushed than have to wait for a month and think about nothing but the day I’m going to leave. Even as it is, there’ll be too much time for good-bys, and I hate saying good-by. Especially to people I care for.” The girls rode the rest of the way in silence, each thinking her own thoughts about their long association which was now to come to an end. They came to Peggy’s house first and stopped their bikes. Then Peggy said, “Of course I’ll write,” as if she were answering a question that Jean had asked. Jean laughed, “You’re right! That’s just what I was thinking! I wonder how long it’ll be before either of us finds another person we can do that with again?” “I don’t suppose we ever will,” Peggy said. “And it’s probably just as well. There’s something a little weird about it!” Then, on common impulse, they recited in chorus the witches’ lines from Macbeth, only changing the “three” to “two.” “When shall we two meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain?” And with laughter and witchlike cackles, they said good night. The next week flew by in a continual round of farewells, packing, endless talk in the Sweet Shop about acting and the life Peggy would be leading in New York and, the night before her departure, a big farewell party at Jean’s house. It was a tired Peggy, glad to be on her way at last, who found herself once more at the airport with her parents. But this time, she was to fly alone. “Are you sure you packed everything?” her mother asked for perhaps the tenth time. “Positive,” Peggy assured her. “And you know how to get from the airport to Gramercy Park?” her father asked, also for perhaps the tenth time. “I’ll never forget!” Peggy laughed. “Well...” Mrs. Lane said. “Well...” Mr. Lane said. They stood, all three, looking at one another, not knowing what to say. Then Peggy’s mother, with more than a faint suspicion of tears in her eyes, threw her arms about her daughter and kissed her. “Oh dear!” she said. “You’d better get on that plane right away, or I am going to be silly and cry!” Peggy kissed both her parents and started through the gate across the concrete strip where the big plane waited. As she turned to wave good-by, her mother called, “Are you sure you have—” “Yes!” Peggy shouted back. “I’m sure!” “And don’t forget to phone the minute you get there!” her father called, his last words drowned out by the sound of a plane that swooped low overhead. At the top of the boarding steps, Peggy waved again for the last time, then went in to her seat to start her first flight alone—a flight that would bring her to all she had ever hoped for. It was dark when the plane arrived in New York this time, and if Peggy had thought the sight breathtaking when she first saw it, she was absolutely stunned by this! In every direction, as far as she could see, the streets stretched out like blazing strings of lights, white, red, blue, green, with sudden bursts and knots of brighter light where major streets joined. As the plane banked and turned, she saw a superhighway winding along the edge of a bay, interrupted by complicated cloverleafs, underpasses and overpasses. The lights on the highway were diamond-blue, and the road was dotted with headlights and taillights of thousands of cars like fireflies in the night. Then the turning of the plane revealed midtown Manhattan, tall and sparkling! The Empire State Building towered over all, its four bright beams sweeping the sky over the city. The UN building stood out like a solid slab of brilliance against the rest of the skyline. Beyond it, Times Square blazed like a bonfire. All around her in the plane, Peggy saw the rest of the passengers, including obviously experienced travelers, pressed against the windows, enchanted by the fairy-tale sight below. They were all talking, pointing, comparing notes on the beauty of this or that. The plane swept lower now, and the skyline seemed to rise and grow even more mighty. Over the East River, the bridges were spider-webs and pearls; small boats like water bugs skimmed under them and out again. Then, abruptly, a new and closer brilliance of searchlights and whirling red and green signals—and the plane settled smoothly into the bustle and roar of LaGuardia Airport. Peggy was glad that she had been there before with her parents, or she might never have found her way out. Crowds of people swarmed about the place, sweeping past in every direction. Piles of luggage and groups of waiting travelers seemed to block her way no matter where she turned. Ignoring the crowds as best she could, and following her sense of direction and her memory of where she had gone the previous week, Peggy worked her way to the front of the terminal where the taxi stand was. A bank of phone booths reminded her to call home before going on. Then she hailed a cab and gave the driver the address of the Gramercy Arms. She had planned to take the airport bus to the terminal in Manhattan and a cab from there, but she had changed her mind. This one extravagance, Peggy felt, would be worth the price. Settling back in comfort, she opened the window to a cool rush of air and became absorbed in the passing sights of parkways, streets, bridges and, finally, the entrance over the giant Triborough Bridge into the enchanted isle of Manhattan. “Your first trip to New York?” the taxi driver asked, noticing her fascination with the sights. “No,” Peggy answered, feeling herself quite the experienced traveler. “I was here last week. But that was the first time,” she confessed. “Staying long?” “Forever, I hope!” Peggy replied. “I’m going to live here.” The East River Drive went into a sort of tunnel, supported on one side by pillars, through which Peggy could see a string of barges slowly forging upstream. “You know what’s above us?” the driver asked. “No? It’s a park! That’s right. This road is built under a park!” Farther on, after they had come out of the tunnel, they plunged into another one. “Another park?” Peggy asked. “Nope. This time it’s an apartment house!” The third time the road went underground, it was the UN building that was above them. What a fantastic city! Peggy thought. Everything seemed topsy-turvy. The idea of driving under parks, apartment houses and giant office buildings was so queer! She said as much to the driver, who only laughed. “Miss, you’ll get used to all sorts of queer things if you live here! I’ve been driving a cab in this town for twenty-four years now, and I haven’t seen the end of odd things. As fast as you can see one, they build two more!” When they arrived at the Gramercy Arms, the driver leaped out and helped her with her bags up the steep front steps. She didn’t know then how unusual it was for a cab driver to help with luggage. He was being really gallant. “Good luck,” he said, on leaving. “You’ll need it. It’s not an easy town to get started in, but young girls like you come here every day to try, and most of them make it somehow. Just don’t let it scare you. It’s big, but it’s not unfriendly. And there’s no place else in this world that I’d rather live!” With a wave of farewell, he climbed into his cab and rode off around the corner. Peggy took a deep breath, patted her hair, and rang the bell of her new home. |
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