“Oh, dear.” Maggie’s smile faded, and she tapped her brow lightly to stave off a frown. “No, my precious, I’m afraid they haven’t called.”

She picked up a china shepherdess that adorned her desk, and began to examine it closely.

“But isn’t that a bit strange?” said Sophie. “My sister doesn’t make things up, and she was very clear that that’s what he said.”

“Oh, dear,” said Maggie again. She sighed, replaced the shepherdess, and looked at Sophie compassionately. “I think there’s just a teeny little something here that you and your sister don’t quite understand. Colin’s a sweet boy. A sweet, sweet, darling poppet of a boy, and a lovely actor, too. But he hasn’t got what we might call the most enormous of brains, bless his heart, and meanwhile he’s such a lovely little sweet darling of a poppet that he apparently hasn’t yet noticed that since he brought Miranda Fentiman into the cast, not a single one of the other actresses he has recommended who has been prettier than Miranda has ever once been called back.”

“Oh,” said Sophie, feeling suddenly very young and somewhat foolish.

“I’m so sorry,” said Maggie. “I thought that everyone knew about that.”

“No, I didn’t,” said Sophie. “I didn’t know that at all.”

“Awfully sad for you, of course.” Maggie pursed her lips sympathetically. “But there’s your explanation, I’m afraid.”

But there was a bit of the story missing, thought Sophie.

“It doesn’t really explain it, though,” she said. “She’s only Miranda Fentiman—she’s barely even a regular. And he’s Colin Hobbes. He’s the top actor on the show.”

“And, my precious little girl,” said Maggie, “since about five minutes after Miranda arrived on the set, she’s been sleeping with the director.”

“Oh,” said Sophie again. She hadn’t known about that, either.

“She’s a popular sort of girl, is Miranda,” said Maggie. “And I’ve noticed that she’s been even more popular than ever since she took that lovely little holiday in Thailand a couple of years ago. She had such a useful time there, the clever girl. You can learn a lot in Thailand.”

But this was Miranda Fentiman, thought Sophie. Miranda Fentiman, who cared enough about acting to have taken time off from television to do Chekhov at the Orange Tree. Miranda Fentiman, who was talking to the people at the Vagabond.

“But she was in The Seagull,” said Sophie.

“Oh, she’s a lovely little actress,” said Maggie. “Just lovely. And Lord knows dear sweet Colin would have had no reason to notice her if she hadn’t been good. She’s also just a very, very popular sort of girl.”

“Oh,” said Sophie, feeling younger and more foolish than ever.

“But I’ll tell you what, my precious,” said Maggie. “Now that we’ve got the St. Luke’s episode to show around, perhaps I can send you to meet a couple of new casting directors. Let’s see.” She thought for a moment, squinting her eyes at a silver-framed photograph of herself as a child. “I know,” she said then. “I’ll send you to see Hughie. Hughie Brown, he’s a good friend of mine, and he knows lots of awfully good and clever people. He’s a little bit of a naughty boy, but I think it’s time we introduced you to some naughty people, isn’t it?”