As usual, the company went to the theater on Monday afternoon to get familiar with the stage and their quarters. Oliver Craft had had a poor weekend, and once she had been on the point of phoning Dr. Trask in Boston. But Monday morning, the old actor seemed almost himself; and when friends called the hotel and asked that he go to an afternoon party, he accepted. She watched him leave from the stage door. He waved happily at her from the back seat of the big limousine and then his hosts drove him off. Shirley walked back to her dressing room with some misgivings. She hoped they wouldn't tire the old man out; tonight was another opening. But perhaps he knew best. The afternoon excitement might occupy his mind and prevent him from worrying. Suddenly from one of the dressing rooms, a voice called: "You must be doing some heavy thinking!" She stopped and turned around to face Hugh, who stood just outside the door of the dressing room behind her. He laughed. "You walked right by me and didn't even say hello." "The Chief just went out for the afternoon," she explained.
