III.
Three days later, in the cool of the evening, Josephine spoke to her father as he came out on the verandah.
“Daddy, do you want to back a play?”
“I never thought about it. I’d always thought I’d like to write one. Is Jenny McRae’s vaudeville on the rocks?”
Josephine ticked impatiently with her tongue. “I’m not even going to be in the vaudeville. I’m talking about an attempt to do something fine. What I want to ask is: What would be your possible objections to backing it?”
“My objections?”
“What would they be?”
“You haven’t given me time to drum up any.”
“I should think you’d want to do something decent with your money.”
“What’s the play?” He sat down beside her, and she moved just slightly away from him.
“It’s being produced by the Illinois Little Theatre Movement. Mother kn
