Of course Hollywood, like all known civilized places where men do congregate, had its array of camera fiends.
“I beg your pardon,” said one of these, a tall severe-looking man with dark glasses, “but would you mind my snap-shotting you?”
Bobby turned, folded his hands, and grinned.
“Shoot,” he said.
“Thank you,” said the man, his severe mien drowned in a wave of smiles almost as gay as Bobby’s.
We have all heard of St. Francis preaching a sermon simply by walking in silence through a thronged city. Does not many an innocent child as he goes his happy way, smiling and wondering, preach a sermon that has for its theme the charm of candid innocence, and the strange and alluring possibility of every one who is so minded to become, by taking himself in hand, a child again? And is it not true that such little children bring a man’s thoughts regretfully and humbly back to the days when he too was young, unsophisticated and unspoiled?
“You’re getting quite popular, Bobby,” observed Compton as they resumed their way. “Everybody seems to like you.”
“So do I,” returned Bobby.
“What’s that?”
“I like everybody, too.”