Aunt Jane's Nieces out West. Baum Lyman Frank
laughed at his earnestness.
"It's an old story to me," she replied, "for I have watched Maud rehearse her part many times. Also it is probable that some – if not all – of the scenes of 'Samson and Delilah' will be taken over and over, half a dozen times, before the director is satisfied."
"The performance seemed quite perfect to-day," said Uncle John. "I suppose, Mrs. Montrose, you do not – er – er – act, yourself?"
"Oh. I have helped out, sometimes, when a matronly personation is required, but my regular duties keep me busily engaged in the office."
"May we ask what those duties are?" said Louise.
"I'm the reader of scenarios."
"Dear me!" exclaimed Patsy. "I'm sure we don't know any more than we did before."
"A 'scenario,'" said the lady, "is a description of the plot for a photo-play. It is in manuscript form and hundreds of scenarios are submitted to us from every part of the country, and by people in all walks of life."
"I shouldn't think you could use so many," said Beth.
"We can't, my dear," responded the lady, laughing at her simplicity. "The majority of the scenarios we receive haven't a single idea that is worth considering. In most of the others the ideas are stolen, or duplicated from some other picture-play. Once in a while, however, we find a plot of real merit, and then we accept it and pay the author for it."
"How much?" inquired Arthur.
"So little that I am ashamed to tell you. Ideas are the foundation of our business, and without them we could not make successful films; but when Mr. Goldstein buys an idea he pays as little for it as possible, and the poor author usually accepts the pittance with gratitude."
"We were a little surprised," Uncle John ventured to say, "to find you connected with this – er – institution. I suppose it's all right; but those girls – your nieces – "
"Yes, they are motion picture actresses, and I am a play reader. It is our profession, Mr. Merrick, and we earn our living in this way. To be frank with you, I am very proud of the fact that my girls are popular favorites with the picture theatre audiences."
"That they are, Mrs. Montrose!" said Goldstein, the manager, a lean little man, earnestly endorsing the statement; "and that makes them the highest priced stars in all our fourteen companies of players. But they're worth every cent we pay 'em – and I hope ev'rybody's satisfied."
Mrs. Montrose paid little deference to the manager. "He is only a detail man," she explained when Goldstein had gone way, "but of course it is necessary to keep these vast and diverse interests running smoothly, and the manager has enough details on his mind to drive an ordinary mortal crazy. The successful scenario writers, who conceive our best plays, are the real heart of this business, and the next to them in importance are the directors, or producers, who exercise marvelous cleverness in staging the work of the authors."
"I suppose," remarked Arthur Weldon, "it is very like a theatre."
"Not so like as you might imagine," was the reply. "We employ scenery, costumes and actors, but not in ways theatrical, for all our work is subservient to the camera's eye and the requirements of photography."
While they were conversing, the two Stanton girls entered the office, having exchanged their costumes for street clothes and washed the make-up from their faces, which were now fresh and animated.
"Oh, Aunt Jane!" cried Flo, running to Mrs. Montrose, "we're dismissed for the day. Mr. McNeil intends to develop the films before we do anything more, and Maud and I want to spend the afternoon at the beach."
The lady smiled indulgently as Maud quietly supported her sister's appeal, the while greeting her acquaintances of yesterday with her sweet, girlish charm of manner.
"A half-holiday is quite unusual with us," she explained, "for it is the custom to hold us in readiness from sunrise to sunset, in case our services are required. An actress in a motion picture concern is the slave of her profession, but we don't mind the work so much as we do waiting around for orders."
"Suppose we all drive to the beach together," suggested Mr. Merrick. "We will try to help you enjoy your holiday and it will be a rich treat to us to have your society."
"Yes, indeed!" exclaimed Patsy Doyle. "I'm just crazy over this motion picture business and I want to ask you girls a thousand questions about it."
They graciously agreed to the proposition and at once made preparations for the drive. Mrs. Montrose had her own automobile, but the party divided, the four young girls being driven by Mr. Merrick's chauffeur in his machine, while Uncle John, Arthur and Louise rode with Mrs. Montrose.
It did not take the young people long to become acquainted, and the air of restraint that naturally obtained in the first moments gradually wore away. They were all in good spirits, anticipating a jolly afternoon at the ocean resorts, so when they discovered themselves to be congenial companions they lost no time in stilted phrases but were soon chattering away as if they had known one another for years.
CHAPTER V
A THRILLING RESCUE
"It must be fine to be an actress," said Patsy Doyle, with enthusiasm. "If I had the face or the figure or the ability – all of which I sadly lack – I'd be an actress myself."
"I suppose," replied Maud Stanton, thoughtfully, "it is as good a profession for a girl as any other. But the life is not one of play, by any means. We work very hard during the rehearsals and often I have become so weary that I feared I would drop to the ground in sheer exhaustion. Flo did faint, once or twice, during our first engagement with the Pictograph Company; but we find our present employers more considerate, and we have gained more importance than we had in the beginning."
"It is dreadfully confining, though," remarked Florence, with a sigh. "Our hours are worse than those of shopgirls, for the early morning sun is the best part of the day for our work. Often we are obliged to reach the studio at dawn. To be sure, we have the evenings to ourselves, but we are then too tired to enjoy them."
"Did you choose, this profession for amusement, or from necessity?" inquired Beth, wondering if the question sounded impertinent.
"Stern necessity," answered Maud with a smile. "We had our living to earn."
"Could not your aunt assist you?" asked Patsy.
"Aunt Jane? Why, she is as poor as we are."
"Arthur Weldon used to know the Montroses," said Beth, "and be believed
Mr. Montrose left his widow a fortune."
"He didn't leave a penny," asserted Florence. "Uncle was a stock gambler, and when he died he was discovered to be bankrupt."
"I must explain to you," said Maud, "that our father and mother were both killed years ago in a dreadful automobile accident. Father left a small fortune to be divided between Flo and me, and appointed Uncle George our guardian. We were sent to a girls' school and nicely provided for until uncle's death, when it was found he had squandered our little inheritance as well as his own money."
"That was hard luck," said Patsy sympathetically.
"I am not so sure of that," returned the girl musingly. "Perhaps we are happier now than if we had money. Our poverty gave us dear Aunt Jane for a companion and brought us into a field of endeavor that has proved delightful."
"But how in the world did you ever decide to become actresses, when so many better occupations are open to women?" inquired Beth.
"Are other occupations so much better? A motion picture actress is quite different from the stage variety, you know. Our performances are all privately conducted, and although the camera is recording our actions it is not like being stared at by a thousand critical eyes."
"A million eyes stare at the pictures," asserted Patsy.
"But we are not there to be embarrassed by them," laughed Flo.
"We have but one person to please," continued Maud, "and that is the director. If at first the scene is not satisfactory, we play it again and again, until