"The very type!" breathed Madam Shaw, who had just come upon the platform in her street costume. "Professor! why did you not get _this_ girl for Innocent Delight?"
"I have," returned the director, drily. "You are the one who has studied the part?" he asked Agnes.
"Yes, sir," she said, and all her bashfulness left her.
"Open your first scene," commanded the professor, bruskly.
The command might have confused a professional--especially when the player had had no opportunity of rehearsing save in secret. But Agnes had forgotten everything but the character she was to play. She opened her lips and began with a vivacity and dash that made the professionals smile and applaud when she was through.
"Wait!" commanded the professor, immediately. "If you can do that as well in the play----"
"Oh! but, sir," said Agnes, suddenly coming to herself, and feeling her heart and courage sink. "I can't act in the play--not really."
"Mr. Marks. We girls of the basket ball team cannot act. It is a punishment."
"Indeed?" said the director, grimly. "And are all the girls Mr. Marks sees fit to punish at this special time, as able as you are to take part?"
"Well!" It was a most expressive observation. But the director said nothing further about Mr. Marks and his discipline. He merely turned and cried:
"Ready for the first act! Clear the stage."
To Madam Shaw he whispered: "Of course, one swallow doesn't make a summer."
"But one good, smart girl like this one may come near to saving the day for you, Professor."
The orchestra burst into a low hum of sweet sounds. Agnes had heard them tuning up under the stage for some time; but back in the little hall where the amateur performers were gathered in readiness for their cues, she had not realized that the orchestra members had taken their places.
Having watched the rehearsals so closely since they began, she could now imagine the tall director with his baton, beating time for the opening bars.
The overture swelled into the grand march, and then went on, giving a taste of the marches, dances, and singing numbers, finally with a crash of sound, announcing the moment when the curtain, at the real performance, would go up.
"Now!" hissed the stage manager, beckoning on the first chorus.