“Yes?” said the woman.
She looked tired and very businesslike, but her manner was not unkind. The novice was at once reassured. He was presently explaining to her that he wished to act in the pictures at this particular studio. No, he had not had much experience; that is, you could hardly call it experience in actual acting, but he had finished a course of study and had a diploma from the General Film Production Company of Stebbinsville, Arkansas, certifying him to be a competent screen actor. And of course he would not at first expect a big part. He would be glad to take a small part to begin with—almost any small part until he could familiarize himself with studio conditions. And here was a bunch of stills that would give any one an idea of the range of parts he was prepared to play, society parts in a full-dress suit, or soldier parts in a trench coat and lieutenant’s cap, or juveniles in the natty suit with the belted coat, and in the storm-king model belted overcoat. And of course Western stuff—these would give an idea of what he could do—cowboy outfit and all that sort of thing, chaps and spurs and guns and so forth. And he was prepared to work hard and struggle and sacrifice in order to give the public something better and finer, and would it be possible to secure some small part at once? Was a good all-round actor by any chance at that moment needed in the company of Miss Beulah Baxter, because he would especially like such a part, and he would be ready to start to work at any time—to-morrow, or even to-day.
The tired little woman beyond the opening listened patiently to this, interrupting several times to say over an insistent telephone, “No, nothing to-day, dear.” She looked at the stills with evident interest and curiously studied the face of the speaker as she listened. She smiled wearily when he was through and spoke briskly.
“Now, I’ll tell you, son; all that is very nice, but you haven’t had a lick of real experience yet, have you?—and things are pretty quiet on the lot just now. To-day there are only two companies shooting. So you couldn’t get anything to-day or to-morrow or probably for a good many days after that, and it won’t be much when you get it. You may get on as an extra after a while when some of the other companies start shooting, but I can’t promise anything, you understand. What you do now—leave me your name and address and telephone number.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the applicant, and supplied these data.
“Clifford Armytage!” exclaimed the woman. “I’ll say that’s some warm name!”
“Well, you see”—he paused, but resolved to confide freely in this friendly seeming person—“you see, I picked that out for a good name to act under. It sounds good, doesn’t it? And my own right name is only Merton Gill, so I thought I’d better have something that sounded a little more—well, you know.”
“Sure!” said the woman. “All right, have any name you want; but I think I’ll call you Merton when you come again. You needn’t act with me, you know. Now, let’s see—name, age, height, good general wardrobe, house address, telephone number—oh, yes, tell me where I can find you during the day.”
“Right out here,” he replied firmly. “I’m going to stick to this studio and not go near any of the others. If I’m not in this room I’ll be just outside there, on that bench around the tree, or just across the street where you can see through the gate and watch the people go through.”
“Say!” Again the woman searched his face and broke into her friendly smile. “Say, you’re a real nut, aren’t you? How’d you ever get this way?”