  Directly in front of her, Peggy felt Peter grow tense, then suddenly relax as he shouldered his way into the shop. “Mr. Agate,” he called in a reassuring voice. “It’s all right. We don’t mean any harm.” Tom Agate stared at them in amazement. Peggy noticed that his eyes were a bright china-blue that contrasted strongly with his fair complexion and white hair. “How—” he began. “How did you manage...?” “To find you?” Peter said. “Well, it wasn’t easy, but this is the young lady who did the tracking down.” He reached around and brought Peggy up into the light. Tom Agate looked at both of them in turn and then slowly chuckled. “Excuse my manners,” he said, sweeping some material from a bench. “But I’m not used to visitors up here. I’d be interested to know how you located me, Miss—” “Peggy Lane,” Peggy said, holding out her hand. “And this is Peter Grey.” Tom Agate acknowledged the introductions and sat down on a three-legged stool. “All right now,” he said. “I didn’t think anyone in the world knew where I was. Except Syd, of course.” “We didn’t know either,” Peggy said, “until a few minutes ago. You see, this morning I went out to Paradise Avenue and talked to your old landlady.” “Oh, yes.” Tom nodded vigorously. “But how did you know about that?” “Johnny Dwyer,” Peter said simply. Tom Agate shook his head. “I thought he’d be one man with enough sense to keep his mouth shut.” “Don’t blame Johnny,” Peggy said. “He didn’t want to say a word.” “Well, what made him?” “Peggy convinced him,” Peter said with a smile. Tom turned his blue eyes on Peggy and nodded slowly. “I imagine you can be pretty persuasive if you want to be. But it’s still a long way from Paradise Avenue to this place.” “Don’t I know it,” Peggy said. “Your landlady told me you had moved.” “She didn’t know where,” Tom said. “No, she didn’t,” Peggy agreed. “But she seemed to remember something about a place called Tidewater Road.” Tom Agate shook his head ruefully. “That woman,” he said. “I never could keep a thing from her. She had a nose built for prying into other people’s business. So you went out to Tidewater, eh?” Peggy nodded. “I didn’t know the address so I tried all the houses.” “You were a brave girl,” Tom said with concern. “That’s not the best part of town.” “I didn’t run into any trouble,” Peggy assured him. “Anyway, finally I came to this nice-looking house where the woman remembered you.” “Yes, that would be Mrs. Mullins,” Tom said. He looked at Peggy sharply. “But I was using a different name then.” “I know,” Peggy replied. “Mr. Armour. That was how she knew you.” Tom Agate looked puzzled. “But how did you know that name?” “I didn’t,” Peggy told him. “But I had a picture of you. Johnny Dwyer gave it to me.” “And you tracked me down with that?” Tom sounded incredulous. “That’s all I had to go on.” Tom Agate stared at the two young people in front of him and slowly shook his head. “Well, you certainly have gone to a lot of trouble,” he said at last. “I hope it’s been worth it to you, but I can’t imagine what you want.” “We want to talk to you, Mr. Agate,” Peter said. Tom Agate crossed his legs and leaned back. “All right,” he said amiably. “Go right ahead.” Peggy reached forward and touched Peter on the arm. “Let me say it,” she said. When Peter nodded briefly, Peggy stood up and shifted over to a chair beside Tom. “Mr. Agate,” she said in a low, earnest voice, “we want you back.” Tom Agate looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Back where?” he asked sharply. “In the theater.” For a long moment Tom Agate sat perfectly still, his face expressionless. Then he slowly got up and moved away. When he turned to face them, Peggy saw he was smiling. “Thank you, Miss Lane,” he said gently. “Thanks for the compliment. But I’ve learned that in this life you can’t go back.” “That’s not so,” Peggy declared hotly. “You can if you want to.” The old man looked at her tolerantly. “You may be wise for your years, my dear. But I think I know better.” Peggy held her ground. “No,” she said. “The point is, you’ve got to want to come back. There’s got to be some reason.” Tom Agate shrugged. “Maybe. But you see, I don’t think I want to.” “Why not?” demanded Peggy. Tom frowned slightly. “You ask too many questions.” “Oh, Mr. Agate,” Peggy said, “I don’t want to pry into your personal life. That’s what I told Johnny Dwyer this morning. I’m sure you had a good reason to leave the stage. But don’t you think it’s time to reconsider?” Tom returned to his stool. “All right, Miss Lane,” he said. “It’s my turn to do some asking. Why do you think it’s time? Why should I come back?” Peggy accepted the challenge. “There are two reasons,” she declared. “First of all, you’re not happy here.” She stopped him as he started to protest. “It won’t do you any good to deny it. You’re living in a self-imposed exile—not because you want to, but because you think you should. As I said before, I don’t know the reasons, but I do know that running away is no answer.” “Running away—” said Tom. Peggy nodded her head firmly. “That’s what I said. Let me finish before you start.” Tom settled back and nodded. “The second reason,” Peggy went on, “is that you’re needed.” “Who needs me?” Tom asked in a contemptuous voice. “I do for one,” Peggy said. “I’m just starting out in the theater, Mr. Agate. You know so much and I know so little. When I think of the things you could tell me—the things you could teach me!” Peggy paused and lowered her voice. “Let me try to explain this way. Today—this afternoon—I met a little boy. His name is Tommy Stanton. Actually, he was the one who led me here.” The old man started. “Tommy!” he cried delightedly. “How is he?” “He’s lonely,” Peggy said. “He misses you. You taught him how to play the banjo and he loved you for it. He’s been practicing every day, Mr. Agate, and he’s much better than he was before. He told me to tell you that.” “Tommy said that?” “Yes. And he said another thing. He said that he wanted you to come back because he wanted to play for you. He’s proud of what he’s learned, but he needs more help. Your help.” Peggy reached out and took one of Tom Agate’s hands in hers. “In a way, we’re like Tommy Stanton. We need you and we want you.” The old man sat silently, making no effort to remove his hand. “I can’t come back with the same old routines,” he said. “People are tired of them. They’ve heard them all a thousand times. There’s no point in returning with the old familiar bag of tricks.” “But you don’t have to,” Peggy cried. “There are all sorts of new things for you to do.” “What, for instance?” “A play. You’ve never acted in a straight play before. Think of it! Tom Agate in a play!” Tom smiled wanly. “You’re very good to say all this, but I haven’t noticed anybody beating down the doors to ask me.” “That’s because no one has had the imagination before. But Peter has.” “Peter?” “Yes, Peter Grey here. He works in Oscar Stalkey’s office.” A light seemed to flicker in the old man’s eyes. “Oscar Stalkey,” he said with a smile. “How is the old boy? Still as enthusiastic as ever?” “Just the same, Mr. Agate,” Peter answered. “And he’s got a play for you.” Tom sat up. “Did he say that?” Peggy nodded. “Peter suggested you, and Mr. Stalkey was wild over the idea.” “What’s the play?” “Innocent Laughter.” “Innocent Laughter!” Tom Agate looked at Peggy and Peter in amazement. “But that’s a hit! I understand it’s the biggest thing this season.” “It is,” Peggy said. “Oscar Stalkey’s forming a road company of it. I’m to be general understudy and Peter is company manager.” “But what sort of a part could I play?” “Let me tell you about Innocent Laughter,” Peggy said, settling herself in her chair. Tom Agate nodded agreement and for the next few minutes, Peggy outlined the plot and the possibilities in the play. “... so you see,” she finished at last, “the part of the grandfather is simply made to order for you.” “Who’s playing it now?” Tom asked. Peggy saw he was beginning to become interested. “Hiram Baker,” Peter said. Tom Agate made a disgusted face. “But he’s no actor! I remember Hiram as a youngster!” Peter laughed. “Then prove you can do better.” “That wouldn’t be hard,” Tom said with a chuckle. He turned to Peggy with a smile of delight. “And you’re the understudy, eh?” Peggy nodded. “Well, well.” He smiled. “Your first real break?” “With a professional company—yes.” “I’d like to hear you read sometime.” Peggy jumped to her feet and began rummaging through her handbag. “Why not right now!” she cried. “We can do the scene between the young girl and her grandfather.” “We?” Tom exclaimed. “Well, I can’t do the scene all by myself, can I?” said Peggy, with a quick look at Peter. “Somebody’s got to read the other lines.” Tom laughed. “All right,” he said. “I’ll humor you. Give me the script.” “Here,” Peter said, stepping forward. “I’ve got an extra copy. You keep yours, Peggy.” Peter paced over to one side of the room. “Let me explain what the set looks like. We’ll pretend that this is a door. And you’re sitting over there by the fire....” In a few quick words Peter sketched in the scene for Tom Agate. The old man followed every word, nodding intermittently. “I see,” he said at last. “Let’s try it.” He looked over at Peggy. “Are you all set?” Peggy nodded and said, “Start reading your lines when you hear me sigh.” She found her place in the script and took a deep breath. The tiny darkened shop with its strange shapes and musty odor was very quiet and, in an odd way, relaxing. With street noises mute and far away, the room seemed somehow warm and cozy, and Peggy approached the scene ahead with anticipation and confidence. Quietly, she made her way through the imaginary door, walked over to the imaginary window, and looked out. She sighed softly. From the other side of the room, she could hear Tom Agate turn slowly in his chair. “‘Why did you come in so quietly?’” he read. His voice was rich and warm. “‘You’re as furtive as a lady burglar tonight.’” Here Tom added a note of gentle humor. “‘What’s wrong?’” The last phrase was said perfectly, with just the right amount of concern, but not too inquisitive. “‘Oh,’” Peggy heard herself saying, “‘I didn’t know anybody was here.’” That was the way! That was the way she had wanted to say it at the audition! “‘I’ll go if you like.’” Suddenly the play had real meaning for Peggy. It became important for her “grandfather” to stay. “‘Oh no!’” she cried in a voice of alarm. Then more quietly. “‘Please don’t. There’s—there’s something I want to talk to you about.’” The scene continued and this time there was no one to stop them. The end came when Peggy, as the young granddaughter, threw herself down on the floor beside her grandfather and began to cry. To her surprise, real tears came to her eyes. “‘I’m sorry,’” she gulped. “‘I didn’t mean to cry.’” Above her, Tom Agate, still in the role of the grandfather, reached down and touched her hair. “‘There, there,’” he read. “‘A person should always have somebody to cry with. It does the heart good. I may not be that perfect person, but maybe I’ll do for tonight.’” Tom Agate put his hand gently on her shoulder. “‘There, there,’” he repeated. And that was the end of the scene. In the breathless hush that followed, Peggy couldn’t trust herself to speak. Even Peter, who never seemed at a loss for words, was silent. But eventually, he put into words what they all knew. “That was beautiful,” he said in an oddly choked voice. “Simply beautiful. It’s the way the scene was meant to be played all the time.” He reached down, helped Peggy to her feet, and shook Tom Agate’s hand. “Sir,” he said earnestly, “you were magnificent.” Tom Agate passed a hand over his face. His eyes were lighted with a shy smile of delight. “Nothing to it,” he said. “After all, look at the help I had.” He cocked a quizzical glance at Peter. “Do you mean to say that this girl here”—he waved a hand at Peggy—“isn’t playing the part of the daughter?” “I’m afraid not,” Peter admitted. “Just the understudy.” Tom shook his head. “What a waste!” “It certainly is,” Peter replied. “But Oscar Stalkey thinks she needs some more experience. And the right people to work with,” he added significantly. “Has he heard her read?” “He hired her,” Peter pointed out. “He must think she’s pretty fair.” Peggy felt it was time to interrupt. “Look here, you two,” she broke in. “If you’re quite finished talking about me as if I weren’t here, maybe we can get back to business.” The two men looked at her. “What business?” Tom demanded. “Will you try out for the part of the grandfather?” Tom Agate smiled and walked to one corner of the room. “It’s a marvelous part,” he said indecisively. “And you’re marvelous in it,” Peggy insisted. “Say you’ll do it.” Tom looked at Peter seriously. “Did Oscar say he wanted me?” “Yes, he did,” Peter assured him. Tom moved back across the room, walking with the easy step of someone half his years. Peggy saw that his face was flushed and his eyes were sparkling with an inner excitement she could only guess at. He stopped abruptly and held out his hands to them. “All right,” he said with unexpected forcefulness. “I’ll give it a try.” Peggy ran over to him. “You promise?” she said. “You won’t change your mind?” Tom shook his head firmly. “No, Peggy. When I give my word, you can bank on it.” Peggy whirled and grabbed Peter by the arm. “Oh, Peter!” she cried. “Isn’t it wonderful!” The three of them stood grinning foolishly at one another like three mischievous children who have just invented an especially wonderful game. Tom Agate was the first to break away. “Well, now,” he said, picking up the script, “might as well get to work. I’ll want to read this before morning. When does Stalkey expect us?” “Auditions are scheduled for ten o’clock at the Elgin Theater.” Tom nodded with satisfaction. “Good. I’ll be there.” He looked at Peggy anxiously. “You’ll read the part with me, won’t you? Just like tonight?” Peggy appealed to Peter. “What do you think?” she asked. “No problem there,” he assured them. “Good.” Tom flipped open the script and ran his thumb down the edges of the paper. “Incidentally,” he said, “who else is in it?” “Emily Burckhardt is playing the grandmother,” Peter told him. Tom beamed with pleasure. “That’s nice,” he said. “I haven’t seen Emily for years. What about the daughter?” “Marcy Hubbard.” Tom shook his head. “Don’t know her.” “She’s a newcomer. I’m afraid we’re going to lose her to Hollywood.” “All the better,” Tom cried gaily. “Then Peggy can play the part. How about the mother? I see she’s got a big part.” “It is a big part,” Peter admitted. “We’re centering the play around her.” Tom frowned. “Is that a good idea? Just from the little I’ve read, I would have thought that the play belonged to the old woman.” “Well, we’ve got a big name, you see,” Peter explained. Tom nodded understandingly. “Who is it?” “Katherine Nelson.” The transformation in Tom came without warning. All color left him and his face suddenly became drawn and old. “Who did you say?” he whispered in a small, shocked voice. “Katherine Nelson,” Peter repeated. “Why?” It seemed an effort for Tom to breathe. The script fell from his hand as he slowly rose to his feet. He shook his head like a drunken man. “No,” he murmured thickly. “I—I can’t.” Peggy stepped forward. “Can’t what?” she asked in a concerned voice. “Are you all right?” Tom waved her away. “I can’t be in the play,” he intoned dully. “I won’t be there tomorrow.” Peggy looked at him incredulously. “But you promised!” she said accusingly. “I don’t care,” Tom said. “Please—go away now.” Peggy reached out and took him by the shoulder. “No,” she said urgently. “You can’t do this. I don’t know what’s upset you, but you’ve just got to be there tomorrow morning. Try and face it, whatever it is.” She gave him a gentle shake. “For your sake as well as ours.” The old man looked at her sadly. “My dear,” he said wistfully, “you don’t know what you’re asking.” “I know I don’t,” Peggy said. “But we’re depending on you.” Tom Agate seemed to stand a little straighter even though the hurt look still lingered in his eyes. He gazed at Peggy steadfastly and sighed. “You remind me of someone,” he said at last. “Someone—I knew a long time ago. Will you be there tomorrow?” “Yes,” Peggy said quietly. “Do you promise?” Peggy nodded. “I promise.” Torn seemed satisfied. “All right then,” he said. “I’ll be there. But, please, don’t let me down.” Peggy took her hand away. “I won’t,” she said gently. “You can trust me.” |
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