Part 10

But Peggy preferred to watch from the rear of the auditorium, so she and Richard quietly found places together. It was almost unbearable to see someone else doing her part, but Peggy grimly watched, determined to be as objective as possible. It was doubly difficult to admit that Alison was quite marvelous as Evelyn. She was obviously working on emotion and excitement, but it didn’t matter. She established herself as the star of the play, projecting her self-assurance and technique so that the audience had eyes for no one else on stage. June Tilson did a remarkable job as the model on such short notice. No one but Peggy or another actor could have known that she was reading the part in bits and pieces before she made an entrance, improvising, and finding her lines on the back of furniture where they had been carefully pasted before the show.

“She’s good!” Peggy whispered. “My, she’s good! Winging a part like that takes a lot of courage. I thought she probably would read it.”

“Chuck said she could, but she wanted to do it this way. She’s a fast study, too!” Richard nodded in agreement.

Watching _Guest in the House_ was one of the most painful experiences of Peggy’s life. By the time the play was over she felt as though she’d been drawn through a wringer. Wearily, she left her seat, as the actors were taking curtain calls, and bravos for Alison’s performance were filling the air. She walked outside and back to the stage door. Alison deserved her congratulations, and she sincerely wanted to tell June Tilson how good she had been.

Alison was still in make-up on stage, flushed with excitement and satisfaction. Everyone was milling around with words of praise for her wonderful job. No one would ever know what courage it took for Peggy to join the group and add her congratulations. Alison was too much in a whirl with her own triumph to take any special satisfaction from Peggy’s praise, and Peggy realized how right Rita had been. Alison had no personal spite; it was only her career that concerned her.

Everyone was glad to see Peggy back unharmed, but it was impossible to miss the undercurrent backstage. The company also was relieved that Alison had played Evelyn and “saved the show.”

A middle-aged man from the audience drew Alison away from her group of admirers and took her aside for a private discussion. In a few minutes, Alison rushed back excitedly, looking for Chuck. “I’ve got a screen test!” she exulted. “I have to leave tomorrow!”

“Leave!” The entire company was stunned. Actresses just didn’t walk out on a theater in the middle of the season. But Alison was blithely unconcerned.

“That was Sidney Mitchell, the talent scout from Lion Studios! He said he’d never been so impressed with a performance in summer stock! He thinks I’m great, said he couldn’t believe anybody could do a job like that at the last minute!”

“But you told him you’d played the part before, didn’t you?” Chris Hill demanded incredulously.

“Of course not!” Alison hotly defended herself. “Why should I? Let him think whatever he likes. The important thing is that he wants to test me for a part immediately. They’re looking for an unknown, and the part is of a girl very like Evelyn. Oh,” Alison glowed, looking more beautiful than ever with her taste of success, “just think, I might actually get to Hollywood!”

“Well, of course we can’t ask you to stay,” Chuck said. “I suppose June won’t mind continuing in your part—”

“I’d love to,” June agreed, “and by tomorrow I’ll know the lines.”

“Good.” Chuck smiled. “And Peggy will resume Evelyn tomorrow night.”

Everyone turned to look thoughtfully at Peggy, only now realizing that if she hadn’t missed the show, the talent scout would have seen her, maybe “discovered” her, instead of Alison. Their expressions were easy to read. Curiosity, pity, and a slight feeling of guilt at their obvious approval of Alison’s performance. Peggy bravely accepted their glances and smiled back at Alison. “I hope you do get the part, Alison,” she said gravely. “Be sure to let us know.”

Peggy couldn’t wait to get back to the annex and be by herself for a while. The reaction was just beginning to set in. If she had to stay another minute, she felt, she would break into tears. Hastily excusing herself with a promise to recount her adventure the next day, she started to leave.

But Rita stopped her at the stage door. “Don’t let it bother you too much, Peggy,” she said gently. “These things happen all the time. It’s just rotten luck for you. The only time we’ve had a talent scout all summer, and you had to have an accident!”

“It doesn’t matter, Rita,” Peggy said with difficulty. She didn’t want to talk another minute.

“But it does—I mean Alison’s lying like that....”

“But she wasn’t lying,” Peggy protested.

“Well, it amounts to the same thing, withholding the fact that she’d played the part before—that wasn’t very honest. I just thought you ought to know that everyone feels the same way about that. It wasn’t very ethical.”

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow,” Peggy pleaded, and Rita, understanding that she wanted to be alone, gave her a comforting pat and let her go.

Once in the privacy of her tiny bedroom, Peggy finally broke down and wept. It _was_ rotten luck, she admitted to herself. The one chance she’d had all summer, and she’d missed it. Why did Mr. Mitchell have to pick this particular night to come?

“It isn’t that I don’t wish Alison good luck,” she cried softly, “but at least he could have seen both of us in the play. He would probably have picked Alison anyway, because she’s good movie material. But if he had only seen my work—it would have been something to take back to New York with me.”

And on top of that she had missed the opportunity to play Evelyn at the peak of her feeling about the part. Would she be able to do it at all tomorrow night? She buried her face in the pillow and sobbed until she was too exhausted to cry any more. Then, blessedly, sleep came.

Alison was gone by the time Peggy awoke the next morning. It seemed unbelievable that she had managed to assemble her things and pack in such a short time, but her little room was as stark and bare as if no one had been in it all summer.

The cast didn’t attempt to disguise their disapproval of Alison’s hasty exit. “That’s typical of anybody so career-minded,” sniffed Danny Dunn. “No gratitude. Alison doesn’t have the least conception of anyone’s problems except her own.”

“Thank goodness we have June Tilson to take her place,” Rita echoed. “I don’t know what Chuck and Richard would have done.”

By evening Peggy was so exhausted that she almost didn’t care how the play went. She was tired of questioning looks and concern. Tired of thinking about Evelyn. She put on her make-up and dressed for her entrance, as unconcerned as if she were simply going out to dinner. She watched the other actors begin the play and waited for her cue with such a lack of emotion that she wondered for a moment if she could possibly be coming down with a cold or a fever. She simply didn’t care. Her cue came up, and marshaling as much energy as possible under the circumstances, Peggy walked on stage.

For the two hours that she played Evelyn, Peggy worked with a most peculiar sensation. She felt as though she were standing beside herself, looking on. She watched Evelyn, heard Evelyn, moved her around like a puppet, with an objective, detached viewpoint completely new to her. She felt nothing whatsoever inside.

After the play Peggy took her solo curtain call and received the most tremendous ovation she had ever heard in the theater. She bowed and smiled, wondering what all the shouting was about, and was utterly astonished to see Chuck come to her with real tears in his eyes.

“That was one of the most beautiful performances I have ever seen in my life,” he said, looking at her with something like awe. “I won’t even ask you what happened. It was too wonderful to spoil by trying to analyze it!”

Ford Birmingham came back to congratulate her, too. “I haven’t yet written my review, Peggy, because I heard what happened last night. I saw both of you play it. Alison was awfully good, but I haven’t seen a job like yours in years! I’m truly grateful for having had the opportunity to see you!”

The entire cast looked at Peggy with a respect so new and surprising that Peggy didn’t know what to think. “You’re not fooling me, are you, Chuck?” she whispered. “I didn’t feel a thing out there. Was I really that good?”

“Oho!” Chuck grinned at her mysteriously. “So our little ingénue has discovered another secret—and all by accident! Listen, Peggy, sometimes it happens that way. Just when you feel dead inside you’ll give a performance so electrifying that everybody wonders what happened. It doesn’t always work, you can’t always be so objective. But I guess that’s what happened to you tonight. Tomorrow it’ll be different, but you’ll never have trouble with Evelyn again!”

And Peggy never did. Whether it was because Alison was no longer in the wings, watching and criticizing, or just because Peggy had finally “caught” it, she finished the week giving a glorious performance that brought more and more people to the theater, and sent them away knowing that they’d had a rare experience.

“This is what really counts,” Peggy thought gratefully. “Not a screen test or my ‘career,’ but the knowledge that I can really contribute something to the theater. Play a part with the author’s intention, not from my personal viewpoint.” Peggy felt immensely gratified to know that she was beginning to return a little of what the theater had already given to her.

XV Summer Stock

The season closed with a rollicking farce that drew a full house every night. Enough money poured into the box office to pay back the investors and the Chamber of Commerce and even leave something over for the new science lab. On the last night of _See How They Run_, a tremendous party was held backstage after the show. Everybody was there. Aunt Hetty was hostess, beaming and brusque as ever, with lavish promises of what the theater would do with her barn next summer. For it was certainly established now that the Kenabeek Summer Theater was here to stay!

The directors of the Chamber of Commerce and the members of the School Board were there; all the apprentices and their families came; Mr. Bladen read a special poem of praise for the theater; Mr. and Mrs. Cook and Mrs. Hopkins and all their friends joined the celebration. Mr. Miller and Michael were happy to report that the _Merry Mac_ had not been damaged beyond repair after all, and that next summer she would be back, ready to take the cast across the lake to the Golden Hound for dinner.

“Are you game, Peggy?” Michael asked with a twinkle.

“Any time,” Peggy laughed. “Tonight if you like!”

“Well! That certainly speaks well for my son’s seamanship,” Mr. Miller declared.

“If it weren’t for him, we’d all be at the bottom of Lake Kenabeek,” Mary Hopkins said. “Wreck or no wreck, Michael’s a mighty good sailor!”

“And the _Merry Mac_ was a smart boat to pick the Cooks’ island out of all the islands in the lake!” Peggy said. “I’d trust her again any time.”

“And the Cooks have practically put Bladen’s Antiques out of business,” Mr. Bladen added, winking at Peggy. “After your boys cleaned up my shop, the Cooks couldn’t seem to take things away fast enough. Then their friends started to come! Pretty soon, I’ll have to start buying more antiques or just stick to poetry!”

Bill Slade dashed into the theater, breathlessly waving an envelope and calling for everyone to be quiet. “I know this is going to be a huge shock,” he cried excitedly, “but you all know how much our business has improved since the Kenabeek Summer Theater came to town—for many reasons.” He grinned at Peggy. “Well! Although my brother Max is too shy, and to be honest, still too stiff-necked to come here personally and admit a mistake, he’s tried to redeem himself in a mighty concrete way!” With a huge smile of satisfaction, Bill dramatically opened the envelope. “Here’s a check to match whatever the Summer Theater is donating to the high school—from Maximilian W. Slade! You just fill in the amount!”

Amid cheers and hurrahs, the School Board gratefully accepted the check.

“Oh, Bill, that’s just about the nicest thing that’s happened all summer!” Peggy cried.

“It makes me very happy!” Bill said, grinning from ear to ear. “Next summer, Max might even put in an appearance at a play!”

Richard Wallace made a short, funny speech, thanking everyone for their cooperation, and at the end giving a word of special praise to the actors who “worked together without undue friction, without too many complaints, and with only a minimum of backstage feuds, which is probably a ‘first’ for any Adirondack stock company! Or any other, for that matter!”

There were toasts to the actors, toasts to Gus and the apprentices, toasts to everyone, including the _Merry Mac_, the annex, Lake Manor, the audiences, and Mrs. Brady’s food. The party lasted long, with all the actors talking about the possible jobs that awaited them in New York.

“What do you think you’ll do when you get back to New York, Peggy?” Chris Hill asked. “Do you suppose we’ll have a chance to work together again?”

“I hope so,” Peggy replied, glad to know that she could now talk to Chris naturally and calmly, as actor to actor. “I’m going home for a visit first, but after that anything can happen!”

“And next time we won’t let personal feelings interfere with our work, right?” Chris beamed at her, his handsome face teasing a little, but now Peggy understood.

“Right!” Peggy smiled.

“And give Randy my regards,” Chris added seriously. “He’s a great guy, and I really hope to see him again sometime.”

The party finally broke up, with everyone going back to the annex to start packing. Chuck and Richard had to stay after the close of the season to wind things up, but almost everybody else was leaving Lake Kenabeek on tomorrow’s bus. Peggy remained quietly in the theater after everyone had gone. She wanted to be alone for a little in this theater that she might never see again.

The flats had been stacked away for the party, and now only the worklight was left, its circle casting a small pool of light on the empty stage. Peggy stood there alone, looking out at the silent auditorium and thinking of everything that had happened this summer. She remembered the first time Rita and Gus had brought her up to the theater—the stage had looked just like this. That night she had had her first taste of the hectic backstage activity of painting flats. She had learned so much this summer, Peggy thought gratefully. She had learned about the theater and about working with people—even about summer romance and handsome leading men! Peggy smiled wistfully, wishing that Randy could be here with her now. He was the only person she knew who could share her feelings about a dark theater like this—the smell and the memories and the ghosts.

For it seemed to her that the house was filled with echoes from all the plays they had done that summer, that all the parts and the plays and the authors were still alive here somehow. This emotion was the magic that had brought Peggy to the theater in the first place—this sense of life, of living literature, of a communication that was nowhere else so special as between actor and audience.

Peggy remembered the first time she had walked out on this stage in _Dear Ruth_. How nervous she had been! And then as the weeks progressed, her sureness had developed, her professionalism had increased. She had learned from Rita and Gus and Chuck, from Richard and Danny and Alison. Yes, perhaps most of all from Alison Lord, who had shown her the contrast between career and dedication.

“I hope I will come back here sometime,” Peggy said aloud in farewell. She was sentimental enough to wish to say a private good-by to her summer. “And thank you,” she whispered, “thank you for everything.”

As she finally walked out the stage door for the last time, her make-up kit tucked under her arm, she could already hear the questions her parents would ask when she arrived home for her visit.

“Well! What did you do this summer, Peggy?” they would say. “What happened? Tell us all about it.”

“My goodness,” Peggy wondered, smiling at the stars, “how can I possibly tell them?”

PEGGY GOES STRAW HAT

Peggy Lane’s education in the theater and in life is “accelerated,” the summer she takes to the Straw Hat Circuit. Signed with the newly organized Kenabeek Summer Theater, Peggy is thinking only of her work when she arrives at the Adirondack resort. But acting turns out to be only one of her problems.

Immediately, she learns that the Summer Theater is opposed by Max Slade, the local movie theater owner, who is exerting every effort to force the “competition” to leave town. And she meets Chris Hill, blond, exciting, romantic leading man of the company—who can make any girl feel she’s his One and Only, and not realize himself that he’s insincere. Finally, there’s the back-breaking, bone-wearying, nerve-jangling job of mounting a new play a week—never knowing if it will open!

The maneuvering—legal and personal—as the actors fight to save their theater is as dramatic as their nightly shows. But in the end it is Peggy’s own warmth, charm, and intelligence which precipitate the surprising climax to their efforts to make the theater an accepted part of the community!

_Peggy Lane Theater Stories_

Peggy Finds the Theater Peggy Plays Off-Broadway Peggy Goes Straw Hat Peggy on the Road

Transcriber’s Notes

--Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public domain in the country of publication.

--In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)

--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and dialect unchanged.