of despair.
"I'm glad he's stubborn about it. He should have a bit of fun. Won't hurt him," the stage manager said gaily. "And besides, he earned it tonight."
"I agree. But he'll just make an appearance, that's all."
"See you at the Statler, then." Lyon gave her a jaunty wave and went out the stage door.
The stage manager's gay mood was shared by everyone at Dr. Trask's party. The tall New England doctor proved to be a fine host, and by the time Shirley arrived with Oliver Craft and his grandson, the affair was well along and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Dr. Trask had reserved a large table in one corner of the Terrace Room that had complete privacy because of two large columns that stood between it and the rest of the dining area. From this vantage point, they could hear the orchestra in the adjoining room and yet be private.
In addition to the doctor and his wife and the members of the company, there were several middle-aged couples, friends of the doctor's. There was a hush and then loud cheers when Oliver Craft made his appearance. Dr. Trask gave him the place of honor at the head of the table and briefly introduced him to the strangers. Shirley sat only a few chairs away, next to the character woman, and Roger Craft took a place almost opposite her, beside one of the men in the doctor's group.
Shirley saw that Hugh Deering was sitting near the other end of the table, with Joy Milland on one side of him and Charles Victor on the other. Joy was leaning forward listening as Hugh whispered some confidence in her ear. Then she straightened up and laughed a loud stage laugh, looking around to see if she were noticed. She was wearing an evening dress of some garish flowered silk with a black net stole.
Jeffrey Sayre, completely at ease in a dark-blue dinner jacket, was talking pleasantly with one of the women in the doctor's party. Lyon Phillips, chatting with Charles Victor caught her eye and winked at her.
Then Oliver Craft rose and there was quiet at the table again. He spoke in a low voice quite different from his stage tone. First, he thanked Dr. Trask for his thoughtfulness and then he talked of the show and the people in it. He spread his hands at the end: "What more can I say? The ovation we received tonight was so perfect I doubt if anything will ever match it in the future. I shall hesitate to book Boston again for fear of marring the memory of this wonderful evening."
Hearing him say this, Shirley felt a lump rise in her throat. She knew, as Dr. Trask and many others at the table must, that there never would be another Boston opening night for the old actor. Glancing across the table at Roger Craft, she saw the look of sadness in his face as he listened to his grandfather. There was a hint of the old man's patrician features in his grandson's face. And she was certain that Roger had a great deal of the same sensitivity.
Oliver Craft bowed and, his speech finished, shook hands again with Dr. Trask, raised a thin white hand to the others in a gesture of farewell and started out. Shirley and his grandson followed, joining him in the hotel's large lobby.
The gaunt star beamed at them. "Now I don't want to spoil the fun for you two youngsters," he said. "I'm perfectly all right. So I want you both to stay here and enjoy the rest of the evening."
"Oh, no!" Shirley's pretty face showed alarm. "I couldn't think of letting you go back to your hotel alone."
"She's right, Grandfather," Roger Craft agreed.
"Please!" The old man raised his slim hands in protest. "I will have my say." He turned to Shirley. "My dear, all my life I've been used to returning to hotel rooms alone. I rather like it. I'm nothing more than tired. If I need you, I promise to phone. After all, my hotel is only a couple of blocks away. You can be over to me in no time."
So they saw him to a taxi. As it drove off, with Craft sitting upright and dignified like some retired Army chief, Shirley couldn't help giving voice to her
"I'm glad he's stubborn about it. He should have a bit of fun. Won't hurt him," the stage manager said gaily. "And besides, he earned it tonight."
"I agree. But he'll just make an appearance, that's all."
"See you at the Statler, then." Lyon gave her a jaunty wave and went out the stage door.
The stage manager's gay mood was shared by everyone at Dr. Trask's party. The tall New England doctor proved to be a fine host, and by the time Shirley arrived with Oliver Craft and his grandson, the affair was well along and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Dr. Trask had reserved a large table in one corner of the Terrace Room that had complete privacy because of two large columns that stood between it and the rest of the dining area. From this vantage point, they could hear the orchestra in the adjoining room and yet be private.
In addition to the doctor and his wife and the members of the company, there were several middle-aged couples, friends of the doctor's. There was a hush and then loud cheers when Oliver Craft made his appearance. Dr. Trask gave him the place of honor at the head of the table and briefly introduced him to the strangers. Shirley sat only a few chairs away, next to the character woman, and Roger Craft took a place almost opposite her, beside one of the men in the doctor's group.
Shirley saw that Hugh Deering was sitting near the other end of the table, with Joy Milland on one side of him and Charles Victor on the other. Joy was leaning forward listening as Hugh whispered some confidence in her ear. Then she straightened up and laughed a loud stage laugh, looking around to see if she were noticed. She was wearing an evening dress of some garish flowered silk with a black net stole.
Jeffrey Sayre, completely at ease in a dark-blue dinner jacket, was talking pleasantly with one of the women in the doctor's party. Lyon Phillips, chatting with Charles Victor caught her eye and winked at her.
Then Oliver Craft rose and there was quiet at the table again. He spoke in a low voice quite different from his stage tone. First, he thanked Dr. Trask for his thoughtfulness and then he talked of the show and the people in it. He spread his hands at the end: "What more can I say? The ovation we received tonight was so perfect I doubt if anything will ever match it in the future. I shall hesitate to book Boston again for fear of marring the memory of this wonderful evening."
Hearing him say this, Shirley felt a lump rise in her throat. She knew, as Dr. Trask and many others at the table must, that there never would be another Boston opening night for the old actor. Glancing across the table at Roger Craft, she saw the look of sadness in his face as he listened to his grandfather. There was a hint of the old man's patrician features in his grandson's face. And she was certain that Roger had a great deal of the same sensitivity.
Oliver Craft bowed and, his speech finished, shook hands again with Dr. Trask, raised a thin white hand to the others in a gesture of farewell and started out. Shirley and his grandson followed, joining him in the hotel's large lobby.
The gaunt star beamed at them. "Now I don't want to spoil the fun for you two youngsters," he said. "I'm perfectly all right. So I want you both to stay here and enjoy the rest of the evening."
"Oh, no!" Shirley's pretty face showed alarm. "I couldn't think of letting you go back to your hotel alone."
"She's right, Grandfather," Roger Craft agreed.
"Please!" The old man raised his slim hands in protest. "I will have my say." He turned to Shirley. "My dear, all my life I've been used to returning to hotel rooms alone. I rather like it. I'm nothing more than tired. If I need you, I promise to phone. After all, my hotel is only a couple of blocks away. You can be over to me in no time."
So they saw him to a taxi. As it drove off, with Craft sitting upright and dignified like some retired Army chief, Shirley couldn't help giving voice to her
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