They sat there in silence for a few minutes, Minnie staring at Elsie resentfully. This girl whom she had despised and pitied knew a phase of life that she was cheated out of. She knew what it was to love unrestrainedly, to give unquestioningly, to be possessed wholly. . . .
She was roused from her reverie by Elsie's sharp cry, "Minnie, can you imagine—lookit!" She was pulling a long envelope out of her pocket. "Here's why I'm over today. And I almost forgot it! It's for you. It says 'Mammoth Studio, Elite Productions,' on the envelope. Do you think"
Minnie snatched the envelope away from her, tore it open, and her face grew pale. She read aloud in a high-pitched voice:
"'Dear Miss Flynn:
"'We are very eager to have you get in touch with us regarding a part in Mr. Deane's next picture. Will you kindly telephone at your earliest convenience so we can make an appointment with Mr. Deane?
"At your earliest convenience" was the phrase that intrigued Elsie. It distinguished Minnie as nothing had ever done before. "What're you goin' to do about it?" For Minnie's blank expression gave no clew to her sensations.
"I dunno," she said dully. "It might be all a fake."
"A fake, rats! Nobody fakes a letter that's set up in that style."
"In Deane's picture—a part, it says"
"'At your earliest convenience'"
