But I was already hurrying on. Oh, it was logical enough to have Martin playing Mrs. Macbeth in a production styled to Shakespeare's own times (though pedantically over-authentic, I'd have thought) and it really did answer all my questions, even why Miss Nefer could sink herself wholly in Elizabeth tonight if she wanted to. But it meant that I must be missing so much of what was going on right around me, in spite of spending 24 hours a day in the dressing room, or at most in the small adjoining john or in the wings of the stage just outside the dressing room door, that it scared me. Siddy telling everybody, "_Macbeth_ tonight in Elizabethan costume, boys and girls," sure, that I could have missed--though you'd have thought he'd have asked my help on the costumes. But Martin getting up in Mrs. Mack. Why, someone must have held the part on him twenty-eight times, cueing him, while he got the lines. And there must have been at least a couple of run-through rehearsals to make sure he had all the business and stage movements down pat, and Sid and Martin would have been doing their big scenes every backstage minute they could spare with Sid yelling, "Witling! Think'st _that's_ a wifely buss?" and Martin would have been droning his lines last time he scrubbed and mopped.... _Greta, they're hiding things from you_, I told myself. Maybe there was a 25th hour nobody had told me about yet when they did all the things they didn't tell me about. Maybe they were things they didn't dare tell me because of my top-storey weakness. I felt a cold draft and shivered and I realized I was at the door to the stage. I should explain that our stage is rather an unusual one, in that it can face two ways, with the drops and set pieces and lighting all capable of being switched around completely. To your left, as you look out the dressing-room door, is an open-air theater, or rather an open-air place for the audience--a large upward-sloping glade walled by thick tall trees and with benches for over two thousand people. On that side the stage kind of merges into the grass and can be made to look part of it by a green groundcloth. To your right is a big roofed auditorium with the same number of seats. The whole thing grew out of the free summer Shakespeare performances in Central Park that they started back in the 1950's. The Janus-stage idea is that in nice weather you can have the audience outdoors, but if it rains or there's a cold snap, or if you want to play all winter without a single break, as we've been doing, then you can put your audience in the auditorium. In that case, a big accordion-pleated wall shuts off the out of doors and keeps the wind from blowing your backdrop, which is on that side, of course, when the auditorium's in use. Tonight the stage was set up to face the outdoors, although that draft felt mighty chilly.