  The theater the next morning seemed full of old men, all of them there to try out for the part of the grandfather. Peggy arrived shortly before ten o’clock, and after scanning the rows of seats for Tom Agate, sank down in an aisle seat toward the back. Promptly at ten, Craig Claiborne began the auditions. The same bored assistant stage manager who had read with Peggy two days earlier took his place behind the plain table on stage and began to read with each candidate. Fortunately, it was the same scene Peggy had read with Tom the night before. One after another, the old men trudged up to the stage and went through the lines that had now become so familiar to Peggy. Some were better than others, but all lacked the authority, the fire the part demanded. At ten-thirty, just as Peggy was beginning to grow anxious, a tall figure dropped into the empty seat beside her. “Has he come yet?” It was Peter Grey and he seemed equally worried. “No,” Peggy whispered. “Will they wait for him?” Peter shook his head briefly. “I haven’t even told Mr. Stalkey he’s coming. I was afraid he wouldn’t show up.” “How much longer do we have?” “If he’s not here in the next half hour, we’ll have to give it up.” Peggy was suddenly struck by an idea. “Peter!” she said. “Did you give his name to the doorman? They won’t let him in if he’s not on the list.” Peter grinned down at her. “Don’t worry,” he said. “All taken care of.” Peggy sat back and tried to concentrate on the auditions. When she saw that the last of the actors was approaching the stage, she turned uneasily in her seat to look toward the rear of the theater. That was when she saw Tom standing quietly behind the curtains that separated the inner lobby from the orchestra. Without taking her eyes off Tom, she reached out and touched Peter on the sleeve of his jacket. “Look,” she said in a triumphant whisper. “Look behind you, Peter. He’s come.” Peter swiveled in his seat, saw Tom, and leaped to his feet. “You talk to him,” he ordered, “While I go tell Mr. Stalkey.” Peggy slid out into the aisle and walked slowly back to Tom Agate. He saw her coming and nodded a shy greeting. “Hello,” he said quietly. Peggy held out her hand. “I’m glad you came.” Tom nodded briefly. “I almost didn’t make it,” he said with a nervous laugh. “If it hadn’t been for that promise....” He trailed off and shook his head. “Well, you’re here now,” Peggy said, slipping her arm through his. “Come on and sit down. I think they’re almost ready for us.” She could feel Tom shiver as they walked down the aisle. “How were the auditions?” he asked, almost hopefully, it seemed to Peggy. “Did Oscar find anyone?” “Mr. Stalkey doesn’t take me into his confidence,” Peggy replied with a smile, “but I don’t think so.” Tom didn’t say a word, but hunched into a seat beside Peggy. In his lap he held a copy of the script of Innocent Laughter. Down in front Peggy saw Peter Grey leaning over Oscar Stalkey and Craig Claiborne. The three of them seemed deep in conversation. Suddenly Oscar Stalkey gave a little jerk of his head and came up the aisle with the quick steps Peggy remembered so well from her interview in his office. Tom Agate straightened in his seat, uncertain of what to do. Oscar Stalkey settled the problem by gripping the old man’s hand warmly. “Hello, Tom,” he said, and Peggy heard genuine affection and respect in his tone. “How have you been keeping yourself?” Tom struggled to his feet, a flush of pleasure creeping over his face. “Fine, Oscar,” he answered. “Just fine. Congratulations on a fine play.” “Thanks,” Oscar Stalkey said. “What about the part of the grandfather? Think you’d like to play it?” “Don’t know if I can, Oscar.” The producer laughed. “That’s not what I heard. Peter Grey said you were great.” “It’s nice of him to say so,” Tom murmured. “How about going over a scene or two for us now?” Oscar Stalkey took him by the arm and led him toward the stage. “But first I’d like you to meet Craig Claiborne, our director.” Tom seemed reluctant to follow Oscar Stalkey. “There’s one favor....” he said tentatively. “Anything at all,” the producer declared expansively. “You name it.” “I’d like to read the scene with Miss Lane.” Oscar Stalkey shot a quick glance at Peggy and turned back to Tom. “Sure thing, Tom,” he said, putting his hand on the old actor’s shoulder. “When do you want to start?” Tom smiled. “Might as well get it over with,” he declared. “Peggy?” he said questioningly. “Are you ready?” Peggy nodded and stood up. The three of them walked slowly down to the edge of the stage where Oscar Stalkey made hurried introductions. A few moments later, Peggy found herself back behind the door waiting for Craig Claiborne’s cue. Two days ago she had been so frightened that she could hardly move. But now all that had vanished. It was a calm and confident Peggy who pushed open the door when Craig Claiborne gave the word. Peggy moved effortlessly through the lines, feeling every pause and groping for exactly the right intonation on every phrase, every word. The big theater was hushed as the white-haired veteran and the newcomer built slowly but surely to the moving climax. But Peggy didn’t notice any of that. Except for the small circle of light that was the playing area, the world ceased to exist, She didn’t even stop to think that she was playing a scene from Broadway’s biggest hit play on the stage of one of New York’s most famous theaters. For the past few years she had dreamed of doing this, but now that the day had arrived, she was so caught up in the powerful emotions of acting that it never once occurred to her that her dreams had suddenly turned into reality. The scene slowly drew to a close as Peggy knelt beside Tom. Just as on the night before, she could feel his hand gently stroking her hair. The two of them held their positions for maybe half a minute and then Peggy scrambled to her feet, wondering how things had gone. The first hint came when she glanced over at the wings to see three or four stagehands grouped silently beyond the ropes that operated the front curtain. Mr. Fox, the assistant stage manager, was still sitting behind his table, looking like a man hypnotized. No one moved. Then from the seats out front Peggy heard someone blow his nose. The next instant Mr. Stalkey came leaping up the steps, his eyes suspiciously bright. “Tom,” he said, coming directly to the point, “will you take the part?” Tom blinked and stood up. “Are you really sure?” he asked. “Sure you want me?” Mr. Stalkey opened his eyes. “Want you!” he exclaimed. “Let me tell you something. I must have seen this play a hundred times, but this morning for the first time you’ve shown me how this scene should be played. Let’s go up to the office and talk business.” He threw an arm around the old man’s shoulder and started to walk him off stage. Watching Tom Agate’s face was an experience Peggy never forgot. When she had first seen him the night before he was a lost soul without the will or the ability to venture far from the airless confines of Syd Walsh’s shop. But now he looked alive and alert, like a man who had rediscovered himself and was proud of it. Then, suddenly, Peggy saw his body tremble and sway. For a moment she thought he had been taken ill and made a move forward to help him. It was then that she saw what the trouble was. Standing in the doorway leading to the backstage area, her hands clenched tightly together, was Katherine Nelson. Stamped across her face was a look of such unutterable shock, mingled with pain and fear, that for a brief moment Peggy felt sorry for her. Then slowly the color crept back into her cheeks and she took a step forward. Oscar Stalkey, who seemed blissfully unaware of what was happening, welcomed her eagerly. “You’ve just missed the greatest audition of all time,” he said jovially. “But don’t worry, it’s a performance you’ll see a lot of over the next few months. Katherine, I’d like you to meet Tom Agate.” Katherine Nelson ignored Tom completely. “What do you mean?” she said in a voice that she was obviously controlling at great effort. “What kind of audition?” “Why, Tom Agate has just read for the grandfather in Innocent Laughter,” explained Stalkey. “And, I might add, has got the part.” Katherine Nelson stepped back as though she had been struck in the face. “By the way,” he continued blandly, “do you two know each other?” “Know each other!” Katherine Nelson breathed. She turned on Stalkey in sudden fury. “What are you trying to do to me?” she grated. “Ruin my career? Make a laughingstock of me?” Oscar Stalkey looked bewildered. “Why, my dear,” he temporized, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I don’t think you do either!” “A vaudeville song-and-dance man!” Katherine Nelson said and her voice was heavy with scorn. “A broken-down old has-been who probably can’t even remember his lines! This is what you want to put into one of my plays? Never!” She advanced toward Oscar Stalkey, her eyes flashing. “Either he goes or I go! I will not play in the same company with that man!” Oscar Stalkey held his ground firmly, but Tom Agate cringed away. “Look, Oscar,” he said dully, “she’s probably right. Let’s just forget about the whole—” “Be quiet, both of you!” the producer thundered. Peggy noticed that his face was as flushed as Katherine Nelson’s. “Now you listen to me, Katherine. I’m still the producer of Innocent Laughter and I make the decisions about who goes into the cast and who doesn’t. Tom Agate is perfect for the part of the grandfather. Furthermore, he’s got a name that still has drawing power. Maybe it’s not as big a name as yours, but it’ll do, and I’m willing to gamble on him. As for you, you’ve got a contract. Now, if you want to break it, I’ll give you permission to go right ahead. You can come up to the office right now and we can tear it up together. But if you do”—Oscar Stalkey lowered his voice in warning—“you’ll never be in another one of my shows. You know perfectly well what Innocent Laughter can do for you. You’ll have a success again—for the first time in quite a while. And believe me, Katherine, you need a success.” For a long moment Katherine Nelson was speechless. Finally, in a voice that was noticeably shaking, she asked, “Is that your final word?” “It is,” Stalkey replied firmly. The actress swayed, caught herself, then turned to Tom Agate. “All right,” she said in a low voice, keeping her eyes on Tom. “I’ll agree to what you want. But only on one condition.” “What’s that?” Katherine Nelson spoke slowly but with withering effect. “That I have nothing to do with Tom Agate—except during rehearsals and performance. That I won’t speak to him—look at him—or touch him. Is that understood?” Oscar Stalkey frowned, started to say something, then changed his mind. “Suit yourself,” he said at last. “Of course, I don’t know how Tom feels—” Tom, who had lowered his eyes under Katherine Nelson’s scathing attack, straightened visibly. His face was grave and serious, but he was no longer cowering. He seemed to have come to some sort of inner decision. He returned Katherine Nelson’s contemptuous stare squarely. “Very well, Katherine,” he said firmly. “You can live like that if you like. I won’t stop you. But listen to me. Whatever you do, don’t cut yourself off. I’ve been through it. I know what it’s like.” He lowered his voice to a gentle whisper. “Besides, it doesn’t help.” Katherine Nelson turned without a word and walked slowly away. Her face was a wooden mask that hid—what? Peggy wondered. |
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