“I think I can make it.” Pop Bartell was in control of himself; he had his front. “I’m sure I can be there at four. Quite sure.” Not until the old man had departed, gallant and gentle, did Joe turn back to the room. All the frothy gossip of the loungers had stopped. “Pop,” Archie Munn murmured, “that was an exit.” Joe thought: “Tony wants him to read the Ike Totten part in the He show.” How long since Pop had had a part? The boy experienced an exhilarating excitement, as though this were happening to him. The hands of the clock ran out the morning; the inner office door remained closed as though Vic Wylie had shut himself away. “Who’s in with him?” Joe asked from a chair tilted against the wall. “Nobody,” Miss Robb answered. Joe stood up quickly. “If I could see him for just a moment—” Archie Munn said: “I wouldn’t, Joe.” All at once Joe found it hard to swallow. He said: “So Mr. Wylie won’t talk.” Lucille drawled: “That’ll be the day.” It was all carelessly off-hand. But Joe knew the cold, frightening truth. He wasn’t out of the _Sue Davis Against the World_ show, but neither was the part his. It might never be his. Lost in worry he strode across the room, strode back. “Joe’s rehearsing for a walk-on,” Stella said. Without warning, the strain of carrying a front broke him. “It’s the not knowing,” he said. “That’s what always puts the knife into you,” Archie Munn said bitterly. “Infant,” said Lucille, “we’ve all been there. Not one of us has a sure part for next season.” Joe was startled. “But when _Years of Danger_ went off last June—” “They announced the program would be resumed in the fall. Well, the sponsor’s changed his mind. Mamma must find herself another meal ticket.” Stella’s bird-like voice fluttered: “Casting starts next week.” All their fronts had momentarily cracked. In that moment Joe Carlin felt very close to them. He took up the collection for lunch. “See if you can get me a fat part on rye,” Lucille drawled. They were gay and casual again. Show business! Coming back with the food, Joe was all at once conscious that the outer room had undergone another change. Once more his friends seemed to stand alone, individual and apart. Once more they had become watchful and wary. “A gorgeous day,” Archie Munn said. “I’m going to take a stroll. Who’s with me?” Lucille held out her cup. “I can be ready in about five minutes.” Stella was breathless. “Let’s all go.” Joe looked thoughtfully from the two girls to Archie Munn. Archie, ignoring the scrutiny, took his hat from a rack. “Care to come along, Joe?” Joe, groping, found the answer. They were trying to get him out of here and get him out in a hurry. Why? Lucille, in front of the mirror above the watercooler, patted a stray curl into place. The rapid-fire click of a typewriter ceased and Miss Robb carried letters in to Vic Wylie. A voice came from the inner room: Were in this fight together, Mother. We’re partners. At least—