Merton of the Movies

he announcement that Amos expected a new line of white goods on the morrow, or Mrs. Gashwiler's version of a regrettable incident occurring at that afternoon's meeting of the Entr

d, that Doc Cummins had said old Grandma Foutz couldn't last out another day; that the Peter Swansons were sending clear to Chicago for Tilda's trousseau; and that Jeff Murdock had arrested on

of the world, excessively bored at the dull chatter but still the fastidious gentleman, might have begged it, breaking into one of the many repetitions by his hostess of just what she had said to Mrs. J

plush hat from the mirrored rack. "You remember, now, no more

, my ideals? You, with your petty life devoted to gaining a few paltry dollars!" But he did not say this, or even register the emotion that would justly accompany such a subtitle. H

by a concrete deer on the other. Before the gate was the cast-iron effigy of a small Negro in fantastic uniform, holding an iron

orekeeper!" muttered Mert

ore. It could not be taken for the mansion of a rich banker, or the country home of a Wall Street magnate. He

ning room, where supper was on. Farther down the street Selby Brothers, Cigars and Confectionery, would be open; lights shone from the windows of the Fashion Pool Parlour across the way; the City Drug Store could still be entered; and the post offic

atform. But sometimes there would be a passenger for Simsbury, and the proud train would slow down and halt reluctantly, with a grinding of brakes, while the passenger alighted. Then a good view of the train could be had; a line of beautiful sleepers terminating in an observation car, its rear platform guarded by a brass-topped railing behind which the privileged lolled at ease;

ge, an attire, such as further set him apart. Still, he could never be sure about this. Perhaps no one ever did single him out as a being patently of the greater world. Perhaps they considered that he was rightly of Simsbury and would continue to be a part of it all the days of his life; or perhaps they wouldn't notice him at all. They had been passing Simsburys all day, and all Simsburys and all their peoples must look very much alike

ble dummy as if to threaten it with destruction. Well, some day the old grouch would eat his words; some day he would be relating to amazed listeners that he had known Merton Gill intimately at the very beginning of his astounding career. That was bound to come. But to-night Merton had no heart for the sw

auntered down the deserted street, pausing before the establishment of Selby Brothers. From the door of this emerged o

! Have a l

" replied Me

stine indulgences at the expense of Gashwiler-be

own little pills and ma

e game with the gang to-night afte

replied Merton

e would not subject his savings to a senseless hazar

. "Quit at twelve sharp, w

ss not," s

bout two-eighty to the good, but I didn't have enough sense to quit. Hear about Gus Giddings? They got him over in the coop for breaking in on a social out at the Oak Grove schoolhouse las

oom of the City Drug Store! What diversions were these for one who had a future? Let these clods live out their dull lives in their own way. Bu

mail. Gashwiler was among these, smoking one of his choice cigars. He was not allowed to smoke in the house. Merton, knowing this prohibition, strictly enforced by Mrs. Gashwiler, threw his employer a glance of honest pity. Briefly he permi

e allowed himself a further glimpse of this luxurious interior. He sat on a low couch, among soft cushions, a magnificent be

e is more than a wife-she is my best pal, an

o anything alcoholic, now-While he was trying to determine this the general-delivery window was opened and the interview had to wait. But, anyway, you could smoke where you wished in that house, and Gashwiler couldn't sm

onfided to her all his vast ambitions; she had sympathized with them, and her never-failing encouragement had done not a little to stiffen his resolution at odd times when the haven of Hollywood seemed all too distant. A certain community of ambitions had been the foundation of this sympathy between the two,

d who would commit any deed for hire. Some of her scenarios would have profoundly shocked the good people of Simsbury, and she often suffered tremors of apprehension at the thought that one of them might be enacted at the Bijou Palace right there on Fourth Street, with her name brazenly announced as author. Suppose it were Passion's P

lope in her hand and a brave l

he asked, referri

n of amusement. "The Touchstone-Blatz people sent it back. The

it wouldn't!" sa

ed for it, but its rejection could not possibly imply a lack o

hey could read the bills for the following night. The entrance was flanked on either side by billboards, and they stopped before the first. Merton Gill's

ndrels with an ax was viciously hacking at the cable's farther anchorage. It would be a miracle if he did not succeed in his hellish design to dash Hortense to the cruel rocks below. Merton, of

l woman on the scr

I don't

the claims of rival beauties, but desi

intained. "And look at her nerve! Would

le in those places," suggested

? Didn't she talk about the risks she look and how the directors were always begging her to use a double and how her

ully cross-eyed man in misfitting clothes was doing something suppose

ng!" exclaime

one of those terrible things on the same b

instead of scenes of dignified passion like they did in

"These comedies make me tired. I

eld, degraded a fine and beautiful art. Merton was especially severe. He always felt uncomfortable at one of these regrettable

shop, behind which were her living rooms. She would to-night go

r Abbey for his own evil purposes on the night of the old earl's murder-that's expensive-but they get a chance to use it again when Valerie is led to the altar by young Lord Stonecliff, the rightful heir. And of

t give in to 'em. Make 'em take it as it is. T

remember she wrenches herself loose from his grasp and rushes to throw herself before the altar, which suddenly lights up, and the scoundrel is afraid to pursue her there, because he had a thorough religious training when a boy at Oxford, and he f

warmly. "They build plenty of s

the fading light, holding it close to her keen little eyes. "Listen! 'Five thousand photoplay ideas needed. Working girl paid ten thousand dollars for ideas she had thought worthless. Yours may be worth more.

pointed out. "We can't succeed a

Merton. But the way my things keep coming back-well, I guess

" agreed Merton.

of The Hazards of Hortense would be shown on a Saturday night, for on those nights the store kept open until nine and he could see

, and into his own personal domain, a square partitioned off from the stockroom in which were his cot, the table at which he studied the art

ine in the Far West. Alone in a foul den of the underworld she held at bay a dozen villainous Asiatics. Down the fire escape of a great New York hotel she made a perilous way. From the shrouds of a tossing ship she was about to plunge to a watery release from the persecutor who was almost upon her. Upon the roof of the Fifth Avenue mansion of her scoundrelly guardian in the great city of New York she was gaining the friendly projection of a cornice from which she could leap and again escape death-

erton in tennis flannels, his hair nicely disarranged, jauntily holding a borrowed racquet. Here he was in a trench coat and the cap of a lieutenant, grim of face, the jaw set, holding a revolver upon someone unpictured; there in a wide-collared sport shirt lolling negligently upon a bench after a hard game of polo or something

ngs proffered some fresh views of Beulah Baxter, not in dangerous moments, but revealing certain quieter aspects of her wondrous life. In her kitchen, apron clad, she stirred something. In her lofty music room she was seated

incere artist, she yet absolutely lacked the usual temperament and mannerisms. She seemed more determined than ever to give the public something better and finer. Her splendid dignity, reserve, humanness, high ideals, and patient

hat is beautiful and fine, requires work, infinite work and struggle. The beautiful comes only through suffering and sacrifice. And of course dramatic work broadens a girl's viewpoint, helps her to get the real, the worthwhile things out of life, enriching her nature with the emotional experience of her roles. I

were I a boy. The public would not have me a boy, you say"-she shrugged prettily-"oh, of course, my beauty, as they are pleased to call it. After all, why should one not speak of that? Beauty is just

d not always be making narrow escapes, and it seemed that she was almost more delightful in this staid domestic life

ver Screenings, in reply to his question, had answered, "Perhaps." Camera, in its answers to correspondents, had said, "Not now." Then he had written to Photo Land: "Is Beulah Baxter unmarried?" The answer had come, "Twice." He had been able to make little of these replies, enigmatic, ambiguous, at best. But he felt

d been advertised. It was on a Saturday night, but Merton had silenced old Gashwiler with the tale of a dying aunt in the distant city. Even so, the old gr

rillingly had beheld for five minutes his idol in the flesh, the slim little girl of the sorrowful eyes and wistful mouth, as she told the vast audience-it seemed to Merton that she spoke solely to him-by what narrow chance she had been saved from disappointing it. She had missed the train, but had a

w a double to take her place at the more critical moments. But she had never been able to bring herself to this deception, for deception, in a way, it would be.

there was a pathetic little catch in her voice as she waved farewell kisses to the throng. Many a heart besides Merton's beat more quickly at knowing that she must rush out

is contact. Little he minded the acid greeting, on his return, of a mere Gashwiler,

hey spoke with quiet dignity of their work, their earnest efforts to give the public something better and finer. They wished the countless readers of the interviews to comprehend that their triumphs had come only with infinite work and struggle, that the beautiful comes only through suffering and sacrifice. At lighter moments they spoke gayly of their palatial homes, their domestic pets, their

early struggles when he was only too glad to accept the few paltry hundreds of dollars a week that were offered him in minor parts; of his quick rise to eminence; of his unceasing effort to give the public something better and finer; of his love for the great out-of-doors; and of his daily flight to the little nest that sheltered his pal wife and the kiddies. Here he could be truly himself, a man's man, loving the sim

not love him in one way or another. He has mental brilliancy for the intellectuals, good looks for the empty-headed, a strong vital a

the article. The full face, the profile, the symmetrical shoulders, the jaunty bearing, the easy, masterful smile. From each of these he would raise his eyes to his own pictured face on th

e. But at this moment the aspirant was reassured. His eyes were pale, under pale brows, yet they showed well in the prints. And he was slightly built, perhaps even thin, but a diet rich in f

Acting, a fascinating profession that pays big. Would you like to know," it demanded, "if you are adapted to this work? If so,

vie-Acting Aptitude, had come; he had mailed his answers to the questions and waited an anguished ten days, fearing that he would prove to lack the required aptitude

d him that he wouldn't do? And he had studied the lessons with unswerving determination. Night

dust curtains from the shelves of dry goods, clean and fill the lamps, then station outside the dummies in their raiment. All day he would serve customers, snatching a hasty lunch of crackers and ch

tiffened. He would not wait much longer-only until the savings hidden out under the grocery counter had grown a bit. He made ready for bed, taking, after he had undre

ie actor! Make me one of the