Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 17, 1924 — page 129: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE EYE OF Only her inner life was real. Now, while she was sitting here, the outer periphery of her brain only—this is metaphorical not physiological—was concerned about the concrete, it worried dully about her uncer- tain future, and through her ears, dimly took note of the conversations going on about her—the gossip of extra people awaiting a chance to display their wares before the eye of the camera. She barely noticed the flurry when a director or a star passed through the hallway adjacent to the waiting room—seen through the open door. “Yeh, that’s him. He’s shooting Pal- worth’s new picture, Say, did you hear about her new contract? Million a year, they say.” “Oh boy!” “Veh. Look, there’s Olive Hendon. Say, look at that coat! Well she can afford it, even if her last picture was a flop. Never can tell what the public wants. I said to Pop Andrews, I said: ‘ Pop, maybe this one’ll take, and then maybe again it won’t—looks highbrow to me.’ ” But all this was merely an obbligato to the dream life going on deep in the girl’s mind. Myrtle’s mother must have said a thousand times before she died: ‘‘ Myrtle, do stop your dreaming” or “ Child, you must try to be practical.” Myrtle had never stopped her dreaming, nor. had she learned to be practical. So she sat, her hands folded in her lap, alone—apart, finding refuge from the world of actualities in a land of dreams. Il. ALEc BONWELL had come into pictures from the stage. He was a serious, middle aged man, an intelligent, capable director, a man of vision, and if he had to shoot a good deal of stuff demanded by thousands of exhibitors all over the country, and con- sequently by the New York office, he did it to the best of his ability, and tried to keep his tongue out of his cheek. At the present moment he was regarding doubtfully the small group of extras who were to people Main Street in a long shot he was about to take, and then be used— some of them—as atmosphere throughout the picture. 279 “Look here, Fred, I know I’ve passed on these people three or four times before— maybe I have a grouch this morning—but they look too hanged sophisticated for a village. What do you think, Kenneth?” The star looked them over. ‘A little peppy, Alec.” “ Fred, take a run in, and ask Haswell if he can’t dig us up some people who have at least seen the country in a picture book. Tell him to take only those who have actually seen a cow.” “Right, chief.” Fred Thorne hurried off. “You're out—I’m _ sorry.” waved a deprecatory hand at Love Dora. “ That’s all right, Mr. Bonwell. Better luck next time.” She bobbed her head at him, turned with a flirt of her skirt, and swaggered off. ‘Where do they get it?” He inquired sadly of the star. The star answered, apparently irrelev- antly: “ When you and I were young, Maggie.” Bonwell ran his hand over his bald head. The star touched a patch of gray in his own hair. They both looked after Love Dora, and sighed mentally. Then they grinned at each other. The property boy asked: “ Mr, Bonwell, shall we hop onto that interior while we’re waiting? We’ve only one scene in it, and then they can strike the set.” “Jimmy, your middle name’s efficiency. I suppose we might as well. What do you think, Kenneth?” Kenneth Denton objected. ‘ Let’s wait and see how long it’s going to take Haswell to collect his people. Tell you the truth, Alec, I’m getting superstitious about this street scene. Like to get it over and done with. My Lord what’s Fred bringing with him now. It was Myrtle. THE CAMERA. IV. Myr Le had been dreaming her nebulous dreams, when Haswell in company with Fred Thorne had hurried out of his office to look over the available material in the waiting room. Like a still pool into which ECoOmicloookxs Bonwell © (GO)