"Wastes time, for one thing. The actors don't listen except when
their own parts are being read."

"Good gracious!"

"Their own parts are all they have to look out for," the old man
informed him dryly. "I've known actors to play a long time in
parts that didn't appear in the last act, and they never know
how the play ended."

"Good gracious!"

"Never cared, either," Tinker added.

"Good gr--"

"Sh! He's breaking out again!"

A shriek of agony came from the stage. "Pack-e-r-r-! Where did
you find this Missmiss understudy? Can't you get me people of
experience? I really cannot bear this kind of thing--I can not!"
And Potter flung himself upon the chair, leaving the slight
figure in black standing alone in the centre of the stage. He
sprang up again, however, surprisingly, upon the very instant of
despairing collapse. "What do you mean by this perpetual torture
of me?" he wailed at her. "Don't you know what you did?"

"No, Mr. Potter." She looked at him bravely, but she began to
grow red.