Part 5

“By the way,” Michael said as they drove back to the theater, “did you see one of the ogres? He drove right past you—back there in front of Bladen’s.”

“Who? What ogre?” Peggy asked. “Where?”

“Remember the car that passed us just as we came back for you?”

Peggy certainly did remember, and her heart sank as she guessed what Michael’s next words would be.

“That, my girl,” he confirmed, “was none other than our Mr. Slade!”

“Max Slade!” Peggy breathed softly. “Why, it doesn’t seem possible....”

“No, not Max,” Michael corrected. “That was his shadow—his younger brother, Bill.”

Peggy had such a peculiar expression that Danny worriedly asked, “What’s the matter, Peggy? You all right?”

“Why, I don’t know,” she said slowly, hardly hearing as she recalled Bill Slade’s parting words—

“... it would be a pleasure to help you ... a real pleasure.”

“Oh, Michael,” Peggy cried, “I’ve got to see your father and Richard Wallace right away! There may be a lot more to all this than we realize! There may even be a way to help the theater!”

VII Unfair Play

“I think you should send someone to see him. I’m sure he’d really like to help!” Peggy was saying. She had dropped into Aunt Hetty’s home with Richard and Mr. Miller to discuss her meeting with Bill Slade. “I had the feeling when he spoke that he doesn’t approve of what his brother’s doing, doesn’t like this feud—”

“Whether he approves or not, there’s nothing he can do about it!” Aunt Hetty said firmly. “They both run the movie house, but it’s Max who makes the decisions and Bill just follows along.”

“That’s right, Peggy,” Howard Miller agreed. “I’d hate to stir up any friction between those two brothers. I spoke at length to Max the other night, and I’ve never heard him so unreasonable about anything in all the years I’ve known him! He won’t even discuss the problem. He’s so terrified that we’re going to ruin his business that he just clams up.”

“Was Bill Slade there when you saw him?” Peggy asked curiously.

Mr. Miller nodded. “And he didn’t say a word. I hate to disappoint you about Bill, Peggy, but he’s never been strong enough to stand up to his brother; and no matter how he impressed you, I don’t think this issue is the one to change his character.”

Peggy sighed. “Well, I guess that’s that,” she said regretfully. “I’m sorry—for a while I thought something could be done. He seemed so nice—and sad somehow. It’s a shame.”

“How’s _Angel Street_ going?” Aunt Hetty asked, tactfully closing the subject of Bill Slade.

“Wonderful,” Richard said. “It’s going to be even better than _Dear Ruth_—if that’s possible! Come on, Peggy,” he said, “I’ll walk you home.”

“Thank you for the coffee and the cake,” Peggy said to Aunt Hetty. “It was wonderful to have something homemade for a change!”

“Remind you of home?” Aunt Hetty asked.

“Yes—it all does,” Peggy said wistfully, looking around the comfortable living room with the beamed ceiling, fireplace, and gay chintz coverings on the furniture. “But then,” she laughed, “anything like this is a startling change from the annex! It makes me wonder if I shouldn’t go home for a visit after the season is over....”

“Good idea,” Aunt Hetty agreed. “You’ll need a rest.”

“Are you staying, Mr. Miller?” Richard asked.

“Yes, I want to go over some things with your aunt, Richard. We have to give a report soon to the Chamber of Commerce.”

“And I want to talk over some more promotion ideas with you,” Richard said, “if you’ll be here when I get back.”

“Your aunt and Mr. Miller make a nice couple,” Peggy observed as she and Richard started back to the annex. “Have you ever noticed?”

Richard grinned at Peggy. “You mean that just occurred to you? Why, I guess everybody in town has seen that for years. We’re all just waiting for Aunt Hetty and Mr. Miller to wake up and notice it, too!

“I’m sorry that we had to squelch your idea of appealing to Bill Slade,” Richard went on seriously, “and believe me, we wouldn’t if there were the slightest chance of his making any headway with his brother. But I’m afraid Mr. Miller’s right. Bill Slade is a pretty weak character. If he really felt strongly about this, he’d do something about it on his own. Don’t you think so, Peggy?”

“Yes, I do,” Peggy said thoughtfully. “And do you know, Richard, I wouldn’t be surprised if he did do something! Maybe he isn’t as weak as all of you think. I just have a feeling—”

“Woman’s feelings!” Richard laughed. “For once, I’m afraid your intuition is wrong, Peggy!”

And as the week wore on, it seemed that Richard was right. By the night of dress rehearsal for _Angel Street_, the cast was terribly dispirited, having seen audiences diminish little by little each night for _Dear Ruth_. Apparently Max Slade was talking down the theater at every opportunity—calling them amateurs, and saying that if Ford Birmingham wouldn’t even bother to go, the townspeople could certainly judge from that. Unfortunately, the company hadn’t been playing long enough to secure the loyal audience that could keep it going regardless.

Alison Lord, who was playing the very demanding lead of “Mrs. Manningham” in _Angel Street_, was particularly upset.

“It’s bad enough to be under the strain of doing this part,” she said tearfully to Chuck. “Sometimes I wonder why I bother at all—why not just quit? It doesn’t seem worth the effort!”

“It will, tomorrow night, when we open,” Chuck reassured her. “You’re doing a beautiful job, Alison, and, of course, it’s worth while!”

“Cheer up, Mrs. Manningham,” Howard Miller said, patting Alison on the shoulder, “you and I are going to have a wonderful time out there, audience or not. Right?”

“I guess so.” Alison dried her tears and smiled ironically. “I’m unhappy enough really to feel like Mrs. Manningham, anyway. If this keeps up, I won’t have to work very hard!” She went to the dressing room to change into her costume. Peggy followed, worried about Alison’s mood. “Mrs. Manningham” was on stage almost constantly and really carried the show. If some of Alison’s fire was gone, even the fine performance that Howard Miller was giving wouldn’t be enough to save the play.

“How is your costume?” Peggy asked Alison, thinking that clothes and make-up always seemed to have a magical effect on the leading lady. “Have you unpacked it yet?” The large boxes of costumes had arrived earlier in the afternoon from New York. Because _Angel Street_ was a period piece, everything had to be rented. Measurements had been sent, and now the girls could only hope that everything fitted properly. If not, there would be last-minute sewing—a difficult project to fit into the next few short hours.

“It’s dull,” Alison replied disinterestedly, “but it fits. At least I don’t have to worry about that!” She put on a smock and sat down at the table to apply her make-up. Watching her draw in the tiny lines on her forehead, and apply blue shadow under her eyes, Peggy had to giggle.

“Oh, Alison!” She laughed. “Forgive me, but really, what a change!”

Alison stared blankly into her mirror and then had to smile at herself. Gone was the bright, vivacious “Ruth,” and even beautiful Alison. In her place was a wan, haunted woman about thirty, with circles under her eyes and an expression of fear. “For once I look just the way I feel,” said Alison, and as Peggy and Rita laughed, even she had to join in.

“I really should be a blonde for this,” Peggy considered as she put up her hair, arranging it in little curls on the top of her head. She was playing the pert, saucy maid, Nancy.

“You could spray your hair,” Rita told her, “but it’s a mess, and I wouldn’t advise it. I think you’re all right just like that.”

“Except that my skirt is too long,” Peggy noticed as she walked about the dressing room, strutting a bit as “Nancy” did, with a rustle of taffeta. “I’ll trip on it, I’m afraid.”

“Here, maybe I can pin it,” Rita offered.

Finally, dressed in their costumes and make-up, the girls walked out on stage for an inspection under lights.

“What base are you using, Alison?” Chuck called from the aisle. “You’re too yellow under all this amber light. Gus, kill that spot and let me see what happens. Now, will you walk over and sit on the sofa, Alison? And Peggy, let me see you up by the fireplace.”

The girls moved around the stage while Gus worked with the lights, changing filters and spots until Chuck was satisfied. It was a wonderful, eerie set, Peggy thought. Gus had stenciled a wallpaper design on the flats, and with the couch that Mr. Bladen had lent them, and the other Victorian pieces and bric-a-brac, the room had a heavy, mysterious quality. The atmosphere affected Peggy strongly. She felt as if some dire event was going to take place. She walked down to the auditorium to look at the stage.

“Now try the bracket circuit,” Chuck called. “Let me see how they dim. Where’s Mr. Miller? Get him and take that bit in Act Two, Alison, where the lights go down.”

Already nine o’clock, and dress rehearsal hadn’t even started yet. It would go on until the early hours of the morning, Peggy knew. Missing props would be found and put in place, movements changed, and last-minute touches made to the set. Peggy settled down, curling up as comfortably as she could on the hard seat, as she waited for rehearsal to begin.

Chris Hill walked out on stage, his appearance completely transformed with the mustache, small beard, and sideburns that he used for Mr. Manningham. Even his attitude was different, Peggy noticed. He seemed a lot older and his voice was deep and serious as he checked his make-up with Chuck.

Finally, at nine-thirty, they were ready. The curtains were drawn, Alison settled herself in her chair, Chris stretched out on the couch, and Peggy took her place in the wings. Even a dress rehearsal, she thought, as she mentally prepared for her entrance, had a feeling of excitement and pressure. Well, this was their one chance to feel the play as it would be on opening night—to rehearse with continuity.

“I’m not going to stop you,” Chuck called. “I’ll be taking notes and we’ll iron out the flaws later. Ready, Danny?”

“All set,” Danny affirmed, his hands on the curtain.

“All right then; make it a performance, everyone.”

The first half of Act One went well. Peggy had a very small part and was able to watch almost continuously from the wings. Chris was really sinister, she thought, shivering as she observed his scene with Alison. And Alison was wonderful. She was a little young to play Mrs. Manningham but her own personality had disappeared in the part, and she was completely believable.

“How I would love to play that part someday!” Peggy dreamed. “Or something like it. I wish I had just one dramatic part to do this summer!” She sighed as she thought of the season ahead—one comedy part after another.

Chris made his exit with a slam of the door, and Rita, as the housekeeper, came on to announce the arrival of Sergeant Rough. Peggy drew up a box near Gus at the switchboard, and leaned forward excitedly to watch. With his old-fashioned cape-coat and painstaking make-up, Howard Miller was the very picture of a Scotland Yard Inspector. Peggy tensed as the suspense mounted; even Gus at the lights was so engrossed in the play that he almost forgot to dim the lights at the right time.

“Gus,” Peggy whispered, “the lights! Gus, isn’t that your cue?”

He started, quickly dimmed the lights, and then shook his head sheepishly. “Thanks, Peggy!”

“I’m afraid you are married to a tolerably dangerous gentleman,” Sergeant Rough said to Mrs. Manningham, and as she stood there, slowly realizing his meaning, the curtain closed on Act One.

“House lights,” Chuck called. “Open the curtain, Danny, and everybody on stage.”

Surprised, the cast gathered on the set.

“I thought we were doing a straight run-through” Alison complained crossly. “I need it, Chuck, to get a feeling of the continuity!”

“I know, Alison,” Chuck said, “I’m sorry. But something’s come up that you’ll all know about tomorrow, and it might ruin opening night. I’d rather tell you now so you can work it out during rehearsal. Better a bad dress rehearsal than a dreary opening.”

“What now?” Peggy wondered. She had never seen Chuck so depressed or listless. All his energy seemed to have left him as he walked forward and looked up at everybody.

“You’re all wonderful,” he said slowly, “and you’re doing a job that’s worthy of Broadway—honestly, you are.” He watched Alison closely as he spoke, letting the words sink in. “Now, I don’t want this to throw you. Just hear it quietly, and then we’ll finish rehearsal. Aunt Hetty dropped in a minute ago—she’d been in town and happened to drive past the movie house. She saw the advertisement for the new bill which opens tomorrow night.”

“Oh, no!” Chris broke in with instant comprehension.

“I’m afraid so, Chris,” Chuck said quietly. “They are showing the movie of _Angel Street_ this week. Under another title, of course, but everybody knows it’s the same play. The story’s too famous. Slade is counting on the stars of the film to draw audiences away from our production.” Chuck tried to think of something else to say, but it was no good. Everyone recognized the seriousness of this move, and what it could mean. “I—I’m sorry.” Chuck concluded lamely.

Alison was standing stiffly, her hands clenched and her mouth tight as she tried to control her tears. But then she broke. “I told you it wasn’t worth the effort,” she sobbed. “I’m not going to ruin my health and nerves doing this part and then have nobody in the audience! They can all go to the movies as far as I’m concerned! This whole theater has been a fiasco from the beginning, and the sooner we close the better. You can give the part to somebody else—I’m through!” She ran off the stage and to the dressing room as the rest of the cast looked after her unhappily.

Rita started to follow her, but Chuck shook his head. “Let her go,” he said. “She doesn’t really mean it, and she might as well get it out of her system. The part is a terrific strain, and I’m not surprised at her reaction!”

Peggy dropped onto the couch beside Howard Miller, who was sitting there twirling his hat thoughtfully. “I had a feeling something was going to happen,” Peggy said sadly, “but I never dreamed it would be this. Guess I really was all wrong about Bill Slade. If he didn’t make an effort to stop his brother this time, I guess he never will. Maybe he’s just as opposed to the theater as Max.”

“I don’t know, Peggy,” Mr. Miller replied, “I’m beginning to wonder if we shouldn’t have had someone go to see him as you suggested. Perhaps any try would have been better than none at all. This move of theirs may ruin the theater for good. We can’t possibly stay open if business drops off any more.” He frowned. “The Chamber of Commerce will never want to hear of a summer theater again, and we can’t afford the loss of money either.”

“Do you think it’s too late?” Peggy questioned intently. “Too late to see Bill Slade?”

“I’m afraid so,” he said. “I’ve already spoken to Max. Aunt Hetty is so furious that she won’t talk to either one of them, and they won’t speak to Richard or Chuck.” He smiled ruefully. “Impasse. Like nations trying to get together without a common language.”

Peggy was silent, remembering that Bill Slade had seemed to speak her language. Could she have been so very wrong about that, after all? Why couldn’t she see him herself? Why did it have to be one of the directors of the theater or of the Chamber of Commerce? If the Slades were too stubborn or unreasonable to talk with “authority,” maybe they—or at least Bill—would be freer with her. She laughed softly to herself, thinking of the Hatfields and McCoys. This feud was every bit as unreasonable and silly—and in the stories, it was always the younger generation that somehow managed to work things out! Feeling a little like a heroine in a legend, Peggy decided to try.

But how? All through the rest of the rehearsal—with Alison back and working just as Chuck had predicted—Peggy thought about it. She couldn’t call and ask for an appointment. It had to be subtler than that. She would have to arrange something that seemed quite accidental. Yes, a chance meeting with Bill Slade! But how?

VIII An Explanation

“Chuck, are you up yet?” Peggy knocked cautiously on the door of his combination office-living quarters on the lower floor of the annex. It was eleven o’clock and the tired company hadn’t turned in until three-thirty in the morning.

“Come in, Peggy.” Chuck opened the door and motioned her in. His desk was covered with work, and crumpled wads of paper littered the floor. “Been up for hours,” he said. “I was just going over the budget.” His eyes were hollow and ringed from lack of sleep. “The answer is, _what_ budget?” He tore up the piece of paper he was holding and dropped it in the waste-basket. “It doesn’t look good, Peggy.”

“Oh, Chuck, I’m sorry!” Peggy felt dreadful, realizing the enormous amount of work that he had put into the theater, and the possible futility of it all. But she couldn’t reveal her plan, much as she would like to, even to offer him some hope. It might not work out after all, and Chuck was so depressed that he would probably try to dissuade her from seeing Bill Slade. She had determined to try, at any cost, and she must do it very quietly and all alone.

“Could I possibly be excused from the reading today?” Peggy asked. “There are so many things I need from town, and I haven’t had a chance yet to catch up on shopping—”

“Go ahead,” Chuck answered dully. “There isn’t going to be a reading, anyway. I don’t know if we’ll even be open after this week, so I’m not going to work you any harder than I have to. Today everyone gets a rest; tomorrow we’ll begin again.”

“Thank you,” Peggy said, wishing she could wave a magic wand and set everything right. “Is there anything I can get for you while I’m in town?”

“No, thanks, Peggy. By the way, we will have a line rehearsal before the show tonight. Five o’clock here.”

Five o’clock. Peggy calculated. Yes, that would work out. She could be about her business and get back in plenty of time. She left quietly, hoping that nobody noticed her as she walked up the little path around the side of the inn and down the hill to the highway.

The weather was changing, Peggy noticed, as she walked along. When she had arrived a hint of spring had still been in the air, but now it was hot and beginning to feel like real summer. Wouldn’t it be fun to enjoy some of the pleasures of the resort, she thought, looking at the beautiful blue of the lake dotted with sails and speedboats. Michael had promised to take her out in his boat someday. Someday! Everyone had been so busy that even Michael hadn’t had an opportunity to be out on the water that he so dearly loved.

“When we get settled into a routine,” the company had dreamed optimistically. “In a few weeks, after things are going smoothly, well, then we’ll have time to swim once in a while and go boating!”

Peggy sighed, taking off the little jacket that topped her gaily flowered summer dress. It could still work out, she thought, things could run smoothly if everyone knew that the theater would stay open. This uncertainty, though, was terrible for everyone’s morale and left no time for play. Actors needed relaxation, too, she mused. The theater was fun, but it was hard work as well.

“And today I’m free for a while!” She smiled with a sudden sharp enjoyment at being outdoors and away from the theater.

As Peggy passed the offices of the _Kenabeek Gazette_, she paused for a moment. She needed a newspaper and wondered if she should go in. But no, she decided, somebody might recognize her, so she hastened on and walked into the drugstore. There were several copies of the paper left and Peggy bought one along with some cosmetics she needed. Outside again, she flipped through the paper, seeking the information she wanted. There it was—the first showing of the movie today would be at noon. She had just enough time. Hurriedly, she walked on, nodding back at several people who smiled at her, apparently part of their grateful, if small, audience.

“Oh, Miss Lane—” A middle-aged woman, smartly attired in sports clothes, stopped her on the sidewalk. “I just want to tell you how much my husband and I enjoyed you in _Dear Ruth_. We saw it on Broadway years ago and I must say we were surprised at the professional excellence of your cast. Tell me, who did that lovely set?”

“Oh, thank you.” Peggy smiled. “Our set designer is Gus Stevens. He’s the husband of the girl you saw playing the part of the mother. And she was awfully good, wasn’t she?”

“Wonderful,” the woman agreed warmly. “Just wonderful. You know, we’ve been coming up here to Lake Kenabeek for years—our son goes to a camp nearby. This is the first summer that we’ve had any real entertainment! You tell your director that we wish him a lot of luck—and the whole cast. We hope you’ll be here every year from now on!”

Peggy left her thoughtfully, realizing that if the theater should have to close, it would affect more than just the company and the Chamber of Commerce. People here really wanted entertainment. Surely there was room for a summer theater and the movies to exist side by side!

She bought her ticket for the film, hoping that the woman in the booth didn’t recognize her. Probably not, Peggy thought. It might be a sin for anyone employed at the movies to go to the Summer Theater! She shook her head impatiently and went into the dark interior. Now that she was here, Peggy wondered if her plan had been so ingenious after all. Perhaps Bill Slade wouldn’t even be here today. Perhaps instead of finding him, she would run smack into his brother Max! And that was a prospect she didn’t particularly want to face.

Peggy took a seat in the first row at the side of the balcony. Here she was close enough to the mezzanine to get up frequently and look around the lounge where a sign on a door announced, Office of the Manager. Looking at it doubtfully as she left her seat for what must have been the tenth time, Peggy wondered if anyone was inside. She might have to stay here all day, seeing the film several times as she waited for someone to emerge. Two ushers walked by and Peggy heard one of the girls say, “No, Mr. Slade isn’t here yet. He said he’d be in around five-thirty. But you’re off duty then, aren’t you?” They went on, leaving Peggy feeling that her brilliant idea hadn’t been so brilliant after all! She was just about to go back and watch the end of the movie, when the door opened and Bill Slade walked out!

Peggy was in luck! It must be Max who was expected later on.

Bill Slade saw her standing there, and an incredulous expression suffused his face. “Why—why, it’s you!” he blurted, in utter astonishment.

“Oh, Mr. Slade! How nice to run into you again!” Peggy’s acting experience came in handy right now. She hoped she seemed genuinely surprised.

“And you know my name now, it seems,” he said, reddening slightly as he came over to her. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t dare introduce myself that day, not knowing how you’d feel about it.”

Something tugged at Peggy’s heart. She felt she had never met anyone so basically nice or so unhappy with a situation.

“What on earth are you doing here?” he asked, frowning a little as if he had only just realized where they were.

Peggy had planned the answer. “Why, I was having a little difficulty with my part this week,” she said easily, “and I thought I’d take a look at the movie to see how it was done.” From the balcony, the sound of the closing music of the film swelled around them, followed by the martial strains of music for the news-reel.

“You missed the end,” Bill Slade observed, looking at her closely.