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Ferber, Edna, 1885-1968

"Buttered Side Down: Stories"

It's one of those small cast
plays, with only five people in it. I play the wife, and I'm the
only woman in the cast. It's terrible. I ought to be thankful to
get the part these days. And I was, too. But I didn't know it
would be like this. I'm going crazy. The men in the company are
good kids, but I can't go trailing around after them all day.
Besides, it wouldn't be right. They're all married, except Billy,
who plays the kid, and he's busy writing a vawdeville skit that he
thinks the New York managers are going to fight for when he gets
back home. We were to play Athens, Wisconsin, to-night, but the
house burned down night before last, and that left us with an open
date. When I heard the news you'd have thought I had lost my
mother. It's bad enough having a whole day to kill but when I
think of to-night," the leading lady's voice took on a note of
hysteria, "it seems as though I'd----"
"Say," Pearlie interrupted, abruptly, "you ain't got a real
good corset-cover pattern, have you? One that fits smooth over the
bust and don't slip off the shoulders? I don't seem able to get my
hands on the kind I want."
"Have I!" yelled the leading lady. And made a flying leap
from the bed to the floor.
She flapped back the cover of a big suit-case and began
burrowing into its depths, strewing the floor with lingerie,
newspaper clippings, blouses, photographs and Dutch collars.


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