Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 168: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

958 her fresh, unsophisticated mind. When she came out to watch some of the rehearsals he was surprised to realize that he wanted them to seem very straight and true in her eyes. At first he laughed at himself. Then he decided that she represented a type of spectator that he wanted his pictures to appeal to. That was all there was to it. Myra in turn watched the director as some fascinating magician. Without con- sulting the script or having apparently any guide save the inspiration of the moment, he deftly brought out in illuminative action wonderful things, things that made one want to laugh or cry. He worked quietly, encouraging or correcting his players, al- ways getting the best they were able to give. He seemed to see everything and without self-assertion to be always in abso- lute though quiet control of the situation. She had never read of a motion picture director who didn’t wear puttees and jump on his hat when anything went wrong. She thought that this man might have a mother that loved him. Then suddenly a thought whose poignancy startled her and sent a queer, numbness over her heart; perhaps he had a wife! What ailed her? Why should she care? This movie man had been in her ken for four days. Why such acute interest? And he was finishing his work to-day—now. ‘Then what? Myra thought the sun must have sunk abruptly behind Bolton Hill; it seemed somehow so dreary, all at once. But they did not finish that day after ail. A thunder storm at three o’clock sent them all scurrying to cover in the old barn and when they drove home at six it was still pouring. The storm and cloudy weather following it lasted three days, three days that seemed interminable to Myra. The beauty which she had always seen in a rainy day, when leaves and grass were lush and sweet-smelling, now failed to make her happy. She was frankly lonely. It was harder than ever to keep her faith in the eternal rightness of things with a strange void in her heart, and Purdy’s day of judg- ment drawing nearer and nearer. Craig Mallory too felt a most unaccount- able new depression. The offices and even the big studio seemed stuffy and crowded, ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. after the grateful days of open air and sunshine at the farm. The artificiality of it all got on his nerves. Hefelt, in the nudst of the bustle and restless activity of many people, strangely lonesome. Chippy was frankly troubled. Was the chief.going to break down from overwork? No. He wasn’t and he didn’t want to be bothered. Mallory’s mind kept drifting back to the farm. ‘Then he realized that the farm was only the background. What nonsense! He must not let himself lose his perspective on life. That little girl at the farm was pretty -——but so were the fifty girls on the lot. She had a quaint philosophy—yes, that was it. It was her philosophy that interested him. That was all. Absolutely all. Tuesday morning dawned clear and bright on the farm. And to-day Purdy would formally take possession. He had told them they might stay on for the rest of the month—his selling chances were better if the house looked open and well cared for—after that—but Myra refused to entertain that thought. The farm was theirs. God was good. At nine thirty the company appeared and set busily to work. They meant to finish up by two o’clock—if none of the unfore- seeable obstacles in which picture production abounds interfered. Mallory was quite himself again, deft, cheery, efficient and the work went swingme along. At eleven thirty Purdy appeared with the papers. He was much disgruntled when he found the front door barricaded and a camera trained to catch some action connected therewith. He started to go through, but was waved away by Chippy. He angrily inquired the reason and when he learned that he must go to the side door, lost his temper. ‘Who runs this outfit?” he demanded in stentorian tones. Mallory turned quietly and in markedly even pianissimo said: ‘‘I am the director in charge. What do you want?” “T want you to get off this place!” said Purdy with grewing emphasis. “Do you own it?” imquired Mallory suavely. “Yes, I do. that?” Mallory didn’t know, but just then Myra COMIC OOOKSxEO What d’ye know about