Mr. Heneman had counted on going on with the rehearsal “like a house afire.” He had reckoned without his host, and the host was the bellhop.
Before going further it may be well to observe that a picture in the making is far from resembling a picture in the viewing. The former is a very slow process. It may require a whole day to produce what one sees on the screen in three or four seconds. Before the camera men “shoot” there may be a dozen or more rehearsals; and the shooting may be repeated seven or eight times.
“Ready!” cried Mr. Heneman. “Positions!”
At the word the salesgirl got behind the cigar counter and, to make everybody understand that she was only a salesgirl, proceeded to chew gum violently. In real life saleswomen sometimes do chew gum; but it is rare to discover one who makes it an almost violent physical exercise. Standing to the right of the saleslady—in the lobby—the young man in the dresscoat, facing the young lady with not enough clothes on her back to make a bookmark, began offering such original remarks as the state of the weather generally evokes. Back of them all, in an alcove near the exit, sat the bellhop, gloom and desolation upon his face.
“Here, you! Don’t stand so the lady can’t be seen. Let the lady turn a little to the right. That’s it. Go on and talk, both of you, and smile as if you were each saying awfully witty things. Bellhop, hold up your head! You look like a drowned rat. Look tough; you’re looking dismal.” Here the director paused, and while the camera men were placing their machines in position, and their assistants were arranging reflectors, and an electrician, perched on high above the shooting line, arranged a powerful light over the head of the salesgirl, he went over to the bellhop, showed him how to sit, how to hold his hands, cross his legs and drop one corner of his mouth. There was some improvement.
“Now, once more!” ordered the director. “Positions! Smile, you two. Talk, talk! Don’t overdo that chewing-gum stuff. Give a yawn, bellhop. Good! Now come on, Compton.”
From off scene to the right enters Compton. He is befuddled with liquor, and on his face is an expression of utmost stupidity. It is doubtful, indeed, if any live human being could be as stupid as he looked. In his right hand he is balancing a cane with a crook. His walk is a marvel of indecision. He hasn’t the least idea, apparently, as to whither he is going.
Bobby, just back of the director, is watching all this with breathless interest. Previous to Compton’s entrance he had assumed the attitude and pose of the “lady,” arms akimbo, head thrown back and a full smile. Upon Compton’s appearance Bobby could at first hardly restrain the exuberance of his delight. The highest admiration often expresses itself in imitation. To the amazement and amusement of several actors stationed behind him, the lad with scarcely an effort threw his features into a close replica of Compton’s.
“He’s as good a nut as Compton,” observed an old actor to a companion.
“I’ll say so!” rejoined the other.