Well, I should say not. I'm going to give up my musical career.
Charlie Burgess is putting on a new play, and he says he has a part
in it for me if I want to go back. It isn't much, but very
important,--sort of a pantomime part. A lot of people talk about me,
and just at the right time I walk across the stage and make an awful
hit. I told Jerry that if I went [LAURA _crosses to sofa, picks up
candy-box, puts it upon desk, gets telegram from table, crosses to
centre._] on he'd have to come across with one of those Irish crochet
lace gowns. He fell for it. Do you know, dearie, I think he'd sell out
his business just to have me back on the stage for a couple of weeks,
just to give box-parties every night for my _en_-trance and _ex_-its.
LAURA. [_Seriously._] Elfie! [LAURA _takes_ ELFIE _by the hand, and
leads her over to sofa._ LAURA _sits,_ ELFIE _standing._
ELFIE. Yes, dear.
LAURA. Come over here and sit down.
ELFIE. What's up?
LAURA. Do you know what I'm going to ask of you?
ELFIE. If it's a touch, you'll have to wait until next week. [_Sits
opposite_ LAURA.
LAURA. No: just a little advice.
ELFIE. [_With a smile._] Well, that's cheap, and Lord knows you need
it. What's happened?
LAURA _takes the crumpled and torn telegram that_ WILL _has left on
the table and hands it to_ ELFIE. _The latter puts the two pieces
together, reads it very carefully, looks up at_ LAURA _about middle of
telegram, and lays it down.
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