“This is no time to upset the cast,” Amby said pompously. “I’ll take this up with you later.” The usually jaunty cane trailed as he made his exit with an attempt at frigid dignity. Sonny languidly polished the nails of one hand against the palm of the other and hummed. Wylie said: “Five minutes to clear out the bad smell.” Joe thought: “Vic wants the tension to ease before he puts on the dress.” The sound-effects engineer superintended the arrival of a sound-effect door, and the boy wondered if Wylie would blow up because the property was late. The cast said very little. Sonny, still humming, opened and closed the portable door several times. “Why don’t you buy yourself a rattle?” the engineer asked. Sonny gave him a slant-eyed glance, opened and closed the door again, ran his hands into his trouser pockets, and unconcernedly strolled to the control-room and back. The five minutes were up. Instead of directing the dress from the control-room, Wylie straddled a chair and motioned for the cast to begin. Bert Farr handed Joe a script. The show opened with a lonely, worried Sue Davis still awaiting the return of her son. Then came a knock on the door and the appearance of Israel Tice, the local skinflint who wanted to get his hands on this piece of mountain property that would some day have value. Tice, played by Bert Farr, knew of Sue’s desperate necessity. He renewed his offer for the property, reluctantly edging up the price. Sue, for the first time, wavered. Their credit at the general store was stopped, and there seemed so little hope that Dick’s trip to sell his stamps would be successful. An absorbed Joe Carlin followed the script: Tice: I ain’t seen your boy, Dick, lately. Sue: No. Tice: Been away-like? Sue: For a while. Tice: You ain’t communicative, widder, are you? He ain’t trying to raise some money? Sue (alarmed): Who told you that? Tice (with satisfaction): Reckon I don’t need telling. It ain’t fitting for a boy to be out of school because his mother’s stubborn ’bout a piece of wuthless land. Suppose something’s gone and happened to Dick? Sue: Please! Tice: Widder, with some money handy there’d be no call for Dick to be away. You think of that for a while. Then you do some thinking on this paper— Sound—Crinkle of paper Sue: What is that? Tice: A paper, all legal, to sell for one thousand dollars. You put your name down here— Sue: No. I won’t. Tice: And this other paper, widder, is a check for one hundred dollars for down payment. Cash money. Cash money so a boy stays home where he belongs. One hundred dollars right in your hand and no call to be fretting about where a boy is and what mischief’s a-brewing. You think on it hard and I’ll be back in an hour. Sound—Footsteps crossing floor and door closing Sue: What shall I do? What shall I do? Dick (off mike): Mother!