Part 26 (1/2)

This appeared to close the simple episode. The scenes, to be sure, had not been shot without delays and rehearsals, and a good two hours of the morning had elapsed before the actor was released from the glare of light and the need to remember that he was Harold Parmalee. His peeling of an egg, for example, had not at first been dainty enough to please the director, and the scene with the alb.u.m had required many rehearsals to secure the needed variety of expressions, but Baird had been helpful in his promptings, and always kind.

”Now, this one you've turned over--it's someone you love better than anybody. It might be your dear old mother that you haven't seen for years. It makes you kind of solemn as you show how fond you were of her.

You're affected deeply by her face. That's it, fine! Now the next one, you like it just as much, but it pleases you more. It's someone else you're fond of, but you're not so solemn.

”Now turn over another, but very slow--slow--but don't let go of it.

Stop a minute and turn back as if you had to have another peek at the last one, see what I mean? Take plenty of time. This is a great treat for you. It makes you feel kind of religious. Now you're getting it--that's the boy! All right--”

The scene where he showed humorous dismay at the quant.i.ty of his mail had needed but one rehearsal. He had here been Harold Parmalee without effort. Also he had not been asked to do again the Parmalee trick of lighting a cigarette nor of withdrawing the handkerchief from its cuff to twice touch his forehead in moments of amused perplexity. Baird had merely uttered a low ”Fine!” at beholding these bits.

He drew a long breath of relief when released from the set. Seemingly he had met the test. Baird had said that morning, ”Now we'll just run a little kind of test to find out a few things about you,” and had followed with a general description of the scenes. It was to be of no great importance--a minor detail of the picture. Perhaps this had been why the wealthy actor breakfasted in rather a plainly furnished room on hard-boiled eggs and potato salad. Perhaps this had been why the costume given him had been not too well fitting, not too nice in detail. Perhaps this was why they had allowed the cross-eyed man to appear as his valet.

He was quite sure this man would not do as a valet in a high-cla.s.s picture. Anyway, however unimportant the scene, he felt that he had acquitted himself with credit.

The Montague girl, who had made him up that morning, with close attention to his eyebrows, watched him from back of the cameras, and she seized both his hands when he left the set. ”You're going to land,” she warmly a.s.sured him. ”I can tell a trouper when I see one.”

She was in costume. She was apparently doing the part of a society girl, though slightly overdressed, he thought.

”We're working on another set for this same picture,” she explained, ”but I simply had to catch you acting. You'll probably be over with us to-morrow. But you're through for the day, so beat it and have a good time.”

”Couldn't I come over and watch you?”

”No, Baird doesn't like to have his actors watching things they ain't in; he told me specially that you weren't to be around except when you're working. You see, he's using you in kind of a special part in this multiple-reeler, and he's afraid you might get confused if you watched the other parts. I guess he'll start you to-morrow. You're to be in a good, wholesome heart play. You'll have a great chance in it.”

”Well, I'll go see if I can find another Parmalee picture for this afternoon. Say, you don't think I was too much like him in that scene, do you? You know it's one thing if I look like him--I can't help that--but I shouldn't try to imitate him too closely, should I? I got to think about my own individuality, haven't I?”

”Sure, sure you have! But you were fine--your imitation wasn't a bit too close. You can think about your own individuality this afternoon when you're watching him.”

Late that day in the projection room Baird and the Montague girl watched the ”rush” of that morning's episode.

”The squirrel's done it,” whispered the girl after the opening scene. It seemed to her that Merton Gill on the screen might overhear her comment.

Even Baird was low-toned. ”Looks so,” he agreed.

”If that ain't Parmalee then I'll eat all the hard-boiled eggs on the lot.”

Baird rubbed his hands. ”It's Parmalee plus,” he corrected.

”Oh, Mother, Mother!” murmured the girl while the screen revealed the actor studying his photographs.

”He handled all right in that spot,” observed Baird.

”He'll handle right--don't worry. Ain't I told you he's a natural born trouper?”

The mail was abandoned in humorous despair. The cigarette lighted in a flawless Parmalee manner, the smoke idly brushed aside. ”Poor, silly little girls,” the actor was seen to say. The girl gripped Baird's arm until he winced. ”There, old Pippin! There's your million, picked right up on the lot!”

”Maybe,” a.s.sented the cooler Baird, as they left the projection room.

”And say,” asked the girl, ”did you notice all morning how he didn't even bat an eye when you spoke to him, if the camera was still turning?

Not like a beginner that'll nearly always look up and get out of the picture.”

”What I bet,” observed Baird, ”I bet he'd 'a' done that alb.u.m stuff even better than he did if I'd actually put his own pictures in, the way I'm going to for the close-ups. I was afraid he'd see it was kidding if I did, or if I told him what pictures they were going to be. But I'm darned now if I don't think he'd have stood for it. I don't believe you'll ever be able to peeve that boy by telling him he's good.”