Joe sighed. “I’m auditioning at two to-morrow.” He came out of the booth. What should he have done, called off the FWWO audition and gone over to the more important FKIP? Or did you cancel once you’d told a station you’d be in? Saturday he was at FWWO at a quarter to two. The Munson time had shrunk to two days. There were four people in Gillis’ office, three actresses and an actor. Joe had met them all, on and off, at Wylie’s during the summer. The clock moved around to 2:30. Gillis did not appear. “Is this another FWWO over-ripe tangerine?” a voice asked. At three o’clock Gillis walked into the office. “Sorry,” he said gruffly. “I had an idea for a swell show.” “Is it off, Gil?” one of the actresses asked. Her voice was dead. “Upstairs changed its mind and gave it the hot foot.” The cast filed out. Joe was torn with helpless resentment and aching disappointment. His first call. And he had turned down FKIP—for this. A morbid curiosity sent him to the FKIP Building. Dennis was rehearsing in Studio B. One look through the glass-walled gallery, and the boy’s sense of loss grew. Archie Munn was in the cast, and Stella Joyce, and Lucille Borden. When you had a chance with a cast like that.... Presently the rehearsal was over. Dennis gathered up script and went out through the empty control-room. Joe walked to the door through which Archie and the others would come to the gallery. The door opened before he reached it. Archie Munn hurried through the gallery, disappeared into the reception-room, and hurried back in a few moments with a glass of water. Studio B received him. Mystified, Joe looked in through the glass. Lucille sat in a chair and Stella stood beside her. Lucille drank the water slowly, looked up at Stella, and tried to smile. Archie came out into the gallery. “Anything wrong?” Joe asked. “Lu said she felt faint.” Preoccupied, the actor took a cigarette from his pocket, held it unlighted in his hand, and seemed to talk to himself. “That New York audition took an extra day. She had to go to a hotel. She was probably down to some loose silver when she got back.” Joe was still mystified. “There’s not much nourishment in a roll and a cup of coffee,” Archie Munn said bitterly. The sun touched one side of Royal Street, and the Saturday shopping crowds moved leisurely. Joe, his head bent, moved numbly with the crowd. Stanch, warm-hearted Lucille Borden! She hadn’t worked since June, and the night club had gone into bankruptcy, and the _Years of Danger_ show hadn’t gone back on the air. He bit his lips. Lights burned behind the glass door that said: VIC WYLIE PRODUCTIONS. The producer, in the inner room, was at the telephone. “Miss Robb’s on her way over with an envelop, Arch. Take Lu to a restaurant. Give her the envelop and send her home in a cab.” Joe was motionless, silent. Wylie put down the telephone. “Arch tells me you were there, kid.” “Yes.”