“I—I don’t know what to say,” murmured Ruth.
“Oh! I know what to say, all right,” said the disgusted Helen. “It’s no joke.”
Ruth herself admitted it was nothing to laugh about. She saw difficulties in the way of the completion of “The Long Lane’s Turning” of which Helen knew but little—or of which she did not think.
Ruth knew that there were scenes—some of them she had been studying with Wonota this day—that could not be changed nor eliminated. Wonota must be in them. No “double” could be used.
In the first place, the Indian girl’s personality was distinct. It could not easily be matched.
Ruth knew that, even at that time, one of the most popular screen actresses, because of her inability longer to look the child, was using a double for all her “close-ups” when she was forced to play those childish parts that a hungry public of “movie fans” demanded.
Nothing like this would save “The Long Lane’s Turning.” The throne room scene in Paris, which was yet to be photographed, was too delicate a matter to put in the hands of any double. Wonota was herself—even in this picture she was a distinct personality—and she must be shown to the very end of the last reel and the last “fade-out.”
The thoughts caused Ruth to feel very, very sober. Helen looked at her with some appreciation of her chum’s despair; yet she could not appreciate the situation in full.
Suddenly the lighter-minded Helen leaped to her feet from the bank on which she was sitting, and exclaimed:
“My goodness, Ruth! do you realize that we are marooned?”