d.i.c.k. (_crosses to ALMA_) Hallo! You here? Seen the notices? (_NED crosses R._)

ALMA. Of the new piece?

NED. The one you thought so highly of?

d.i.c.k. Did I think highly of it?

ALMA. Didn't you say the booking after the first night would be a caution?

d.i.c.k. So it is. Two stalls.

NED. I heard it wasn't a success.

d.i.c.k. (_producing a sheaf of newspaper cuttings_) _Morning News:_ "It is not often that we have to chronicle so signal a fiasco." _Daily Post:_ "Seldom of late years has a first night audience been so emphatic in its condemnation." _Evening Mail:_ "The play is absolutely dest.i.tute of merit." _Sunday Slogger:_ "A striking instance of the inept.i.tude, incompetence, and imbecility of our native playwrights."

What do you think of that?

NED. I'm very sorry for poor Sparkle's sake. (_ALMA crosses to sofa_)

d.i.c.k. Hang Sparkle! I'm sorry for my own sake. Very annoying. I particularly wanted this to be a go.

ALMA. Because I wasn't in it. (_leaning on back of sofa_)

d.i.c.k. Miss Blake has a notion we can't do without her.

NED. It appears you can't.

d.i.c.k. All the more reason she should think we can. _I_ don't know what the public see in her. Miss Blake's always Miss Blake.

ALMA. That's what they like, my dear.

d.i.c.k. I don't care what the part is!

ALMA. Nor do they.

d.i.c.k. Well, if they want you they shall have you. Now, look here. (_to NED_) I'll make you a proposition. If you'll let Sparkle look over your comedy, write up Blake's part, re-cast the plot, and smarten up the dialogue, I'll bring the piece out under Sparkle's name, pay him the fees, and--and your fortune's made. (_ALMA comes down, C._)

NED. Let Sparkle hack about my piece? Sparkle, who's just made this fiasco?

d.i.c.k. Sparkle has such a name.

ALMA. Yes--for fiascos.

d.i.c.k. Never mind what it's for--he has a name.

NED. No, Mr. d.i.c.k, no!

d.i.c.k. You refuse?

NED. Decidedly. (_goes up to L.C., sits at table_)

d.i.c.k. (_taking stage, R._) And yet they say we managers don't give young men a chance.

ALMA. (_crosses to C._) Mr. d.i.c.k, Mr. Chetwynd has another comedy.

d.i.c.k. Won't do at all!

ALMA. But I say it _will_ do. I've read it.

d.i.c.k. I _haven't_ read it, and I say it _won't._ Sparkle's the man for comedies. I'll go to Sparkle. He'll write me a bran new one in a week, and it won't want rehearsing, because it'll be the old stuff all over again.

ALMA. If he does I don't play in it.

d.i.c.k. Oh, yes, you do.

ALMA. I say I don't.

d.i.c.k. (_crosses to ALMA_) No play no pay. We've an agreement.

ALMA. (_crosses to d.i.c.k_) We'll have a _dis_agreement. Mark my words, I play in Mr. Chetwynd's piece or I don't play at all.

d.i.c.k. What's it about?

ALMA. Never mind what it's about. You'd better leave the whole thing in my hands. You know I shall have my own way in the end; so you may just as well let me have it at the beginning.

d.i.c.k. Settle it how you like. I must be off. (_goes up, R._)

ALMA. So must I, Ned. It's time for me to bring Sir Humphrey.

(_crosses to L. d.i.c.k takes hat, puts it on_)

NED. (_to d.i.c.k_) Won't you take the ma.n.u.script?

d.i.c.k. What for?

NED. To read.

d.i.c.k. I don't read plays, sir; I produce 'em.

NED. But if you did read them----

d.i.c.k. Then I shouldn't produce 'em.

ALMA. I've read it, Mr. d.i.c.k, and it'll do for me.

d.i.c.k. Do for me, too, I expect. All you've read is your part.

ALMA. My part's the play.

d.i.c.k. I thought as much. Good evening. (_Exit, R._)