she had a fraction of the courage of the old man beside her and if she would be able to match up to him in his defiant battle with death.
He looked up at her with his weary smile. "Time for the third act." And in answer to the unspoken question in her face: "Yes. I'm all right now."
Oliver Craft had been right. For her, the magic of the play was partially lost. But it seemed she was alone in her fears. All the rest of the audience were caught up in the play. At last the big curtain scene arrived and Oliver Craft as the Cardinal said: "Yes, I am going to die. But everything about me you want killed will live." The curtain fell to the final outburst of applause that topped all the others.
The curtain went up and down as the company took their calls. And then came the moment when Oliver Craft faced the audience alone. Cheers were added to the thunderous ovation; all around Shirley, people stood up, clapping their hands. Time after time, the curtain was lowered and raised and then the full company took a last call. Oliver Craft stepped forward to the audience, smiling, and said a simple: "Thank you, my friends." The curtain dropped for the last time.
Shirley was on her way backstage when a voice at her elbow said, "Miss Grant."
She turned to face Roger Craft, who had elbowed his way through the crowd. He was quite different from the young man she had met that morning. Smiling apologetically, he said, "I'd like to ask your pardon for the way I acted at the hotel."
Knowing that he was sincere, she said, "I think I understand."
"I love my grandfather," he said, "if that's an excuse."
"I'm sure it is."
"But I see now that you and the doctor were right," he went on, looking at the crowd surging out of the crowded lobby. "This is how it should be with him, as long as he is able to go on."
Shirley glanced toward the backstage entrance. "I should be back there. But he wanted me to see the show from out front."
Roger Craft took her by the arm. "It will probably mean a little pushing." He smiled at her. "But I think we can manage it now."
Pressing against the current of the crowd wasn't easy. But they finally made their way to one of the backstage doors. As they went through, Shirley said, "That was really something. I'm tired out."
"You'll be coming to Dr. Trask's party at the Statler, won't you?" Roger Craft inquired in a way which indicated that he would be attending.
She smiled without answering as they arrived backstage.
Here, all was confusion. A line of people waiting to speak with Oliver Craft stood by as photographers busied themselves taking pictures of the stage Cardinal posing in a friendly handshake with Boston's own Cardinal.
Shirley glanced across to where the other members of the cast were grouped together and saw Hugh Deering staring at her. Catching her eye, he smiled in a cynical way and she realized that Roger Craft was standing close to her, an arm protectively around her.
CHAPTER FIVE
Oliver Craft sat heavily in front of the mirror and removed his Cardinal's cap. "I'm very tired, but I feel better now," he told her. "Boston has always been kind to me, but tonight was something more than I expected."
She stood by him. "Do you think you should attempt Dr. Trask's party?"
He nodded. "For a few minutes at least. Just to say hello to his guests."
"I'm sure he'd understand if you didn't feel able to go."
"Don't worry, my dear." He smiled at her. And the make-up gone, she saw that his face was a mask of weariness, his color not good.
Since he insisted, she went outside and told his grandson. Roger went out to have a taxi ready and she waited backstage for the old man. Most of the others in the company had already left the theater. But as she stood waiting, Lyon Phillips came up to her.
"You've decided to come to the party, after all?" He was in high spirits, the night having been such a success.
"The Chief has made up his mind that he will, and you know what he's like." She gave a small smile
He looked up at her with his weary smile. "Time for the third act." And in answer to the unspoken question in her face: "Yes. I'm all right now."
Oliver Craft had been right. For her, the magic of the play was partially lost. But it seemed she was alone in her fears. All the rest of the audience were caught up in the play. At last the big curtain scene arrived and Oliver Craft as the Cardinal said: "Yes, I am going to die. But everything about me you want killed will live." The curtain fell to the final outburst of applause that topped all the others.
The curtain went up and down as the company took their calls. And then came the moment when Oliver Craft faced the audience alone. Cheers were added to the thunderous ovation; all around Shirley, people stood up, clapping their hands. Time after time, the curtain was lowered and raised and then the full company took a last call. Oliver Craft stepped forward to the audience, smiling, and said a simple: "Thank you, my friends." The curtain dropped for the last time.
Shirley was on her way backstage when a voice at her elbow said, "Miss Grant."
She turned to face Roger Craft, who had elbowed his way through the crowd. He was quite different from the young man she had met that morning. Smiling apologetically, he said, "I'd like to ask your pardon for the way I acted at the hotel."
Knowing that he was sincere, she said, "I think I understand."
"I love my grandfather," he said, "if that's an excuse."
"I'm sure it is."
"But I see now that you and the doctor were right," he went on, looking at the crowd surging out of the crowded lobby. "This is how it should be with him, as long as he is able to go on."
Shirley glanced toward the backstage entrance. "I should be back there. But he wanted me to see the show from out front."
Roger Craft took her by the arm. "It will probably mean a little pushing." He smiled at her. "But I think we can manage it now."
Pressing against the current of the crowd wasn't easy. But they finally made their way to one of the backstage doors. As they went through, Shirley said, "That was really something. I'm tired out."
"You'll be coming to Dr. Trask's party at the Statler, won't you?" Roger Craft inquired in a way which indicated that he would be attending.
She smiled without answering as they arrived backstage.
Here, all was confusion. A line of people waiting to speak with Oliver Craft stood by as photographers busied themselves taking pictures of the stage Cardinal posing in a friendly handshake with Boston's own Cardinal.
Shirley glanced across to where the other members of the cast were grouped together and saw Hugh Deering staring at her. Catching her eye, he smiled in a cynical way and she realized that Roger Craft was standing close to her, an arm protectively around her.
CHAPTER FIVE
Oliver Craft sat heavily in front of the mirror and removed his Cardinal's cap. "I'm very tired, but I feel better now," he told her. "Boston has always been kind to me, but tonight was something more than I expected."
She stood by him. "Do you think you should attempt Dr. Trask's party?"
He nodded. "For a few minutes at least. Just to say hello to his guests."
"I'm sure he'd understand if you didn't feel able to go."
"Don't worry, my dear." He smiled at her. And the make-up gone, she saw that his face was a mask of weariness, his color not good.
Since he insisted, she went outside and told his grandson. Roger went out to have a taxi ready and she waited backstage for the old man. Most of the others in the company had already left the theater. But as she stood waiting, Lyon Phillips came up to her.
"You've decided to come to the party, after all?" He was in high spirits, the night having been such a success.
"The Chief has made up his mind that he will, and you know what he's like." She gave a small smile
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