Joy had a faint feeling that Phyllis Harrington ought to have the
part with her own name, but Clarence explained that names had
nothing whatever to do with it unless you were a movie star, when
you used your first name in order to make the public more interested
in your personality.
"We will give Gail the part you don't want," he told her, "as a
punishment for not letting you cook your eight-course dinner
tonight. By the way, we must time ourselves to get back and eat it.
I wonder whether Gail can cook. On second thoughts, why not stay out
till it's over?"
"The play!" said Joy imperatively.
"Well," he said, yielding, "would you rather be a fairy princess or
a shepherdess from Arcady? I'd prefer to have you the shepherdess,
for personal reasons. I wish to be the shepherd."
"Whatever you say," said Joy absently. "It's getting colder. Hadn't
we better walk a little?"
"Very well," said Clarence. "We can argue as we walk."
The problem of making sixteen young women willing to be a chorus and
of finding sixteen or twenty young men to be anything, took them
quite a while to discuss. They walked on as they talked, until it
began to get darker.
"By the way, have you any idea where we are?" inquired Clarence,
stopping short to look about him. "New England woods are not my
native habitat."
"Nor mine," said Joy, startled. "I think we ought to go back to the
high road."
"If there's any left to go back to," suggested Clarence.
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