"Tell the understudy to wait, Packer," said the star abysmally,
and Packer addressed himself to the departing backs of the
company:

"Mr. Potter wants to speak to Miss--Miss--"

"Malone," prompted the owner of the name, without resentment.

"Wait a moment, Miss Malone," said Potter, looking up wearily.
"Is Mr. Tinker anywhere about?"

"I'm here, Mr. Potter." Tinker came forward to the orchestra
railing.

"I've been thinking about this play, Mr. Tinker," Potter said,
shaking his head despondently. "I don't know about it. I'm very,
very doubtful about it." He peered over Tinker's head, squinting
his eyes, and seemed for the first time to be aware of the
playwright's presence. "Oh, are you there, Mr. Canby? When did
you come in?"

"I've been here all the time," said the dishevelled Canby,
coming forward. "I supposed it was my business to be here, but-"

"Very glad to have you if you wish," Potter interrupted
gloomily. "Any time. Any time you like. I was just telling Mr.
Tinker that I don't know about your play. I don't know if it'll
do at all."

"If you'd play it," Canby began, "the way I wrote it--"