CHAPTER XVIII
A HIT
"Ruth, I do hope it's a success; don't you?" asked Alice.
"Of course I do. It means a whole lot."
"You mean to Mr. Pertell?"
"And to us, dear."
"What do you mean? Tell me."
The two girls were resting after the performance of the play "A FalseCount." The last scene had been filmed, and the long strips ofcelluloid, with the hidden pictures, sent to the dark room fordevelopment. Not until then could it be told whether the affair hadbeen a success from a mechanical standpoint. And then, later, wouldcome the test before the great public.
"Did you hear what Mr. Pertell said to me?" asked Ruth.
"Well, he said so much, directing us, and all that--I'm sure I don'trecall anything special. What was it?"
"Why, he told me that if this play was a success--I mean if we showedup well in it--he'd give us parts in a big drama he's getting ready.Won't that be splendid?"
"Of course it will. But I liked this one very much. I wish I couldsee the real pictures."
"You can!" exclaimed a voice back of the girls, and, turning they sawRuss. "I'll take you to see them when the positives are made," hesaid.
"Oh, but I mean in a regular moving picture theater," went on Alice."I'd like to see how the public takes us."
"I'll do that, too," agreed Russ. "As soon as the pictures arereleased we'll find some place where they are being shown, and youcan watch yourself doing your act."
"That will be fine!" cried Ruth.
"What does 'released' mean?" asked Alice.
"Well, you know the moving picture business is something like theAssociated Press," explained Russ. "The Associated Press is anorganization for getting news. Often news has to be gotten inadvance--say a thing like the President's message, or a speech by abig man.
"The Associated Press gets a copy in advance, and sends duplicates ofit out to the newspapers that take its service. And on each duplicatecopy is stamped a notice that it is to be released for publicationon a certain day--or at even a certain hour. That is, it can't beused by the newspapers until that time.
"It's somewhat like that with moving pictures. The reels of new playsare sent out to the different theaters, and to fix it so a theaterquite a distance from New York won't be at a disadvantage with oneright here, which would get the film sooner, there is a certain dateset for the release of the film. That means that though one theatergets it first it can't use it until the date set, when all theplayhouses are supposed to have it."
"Oh, that's the way they do it?" observed Alice.
"Yes," went on Russ. "Of course the best stuff is what is called'first run,'" he went on to explain. "That is, it is a reel of filmof a new play, never before shown in a certain city. The best movingpicture theaters take the first run, and pay good prices for it.Then, later on, second-rate theaters may get it at a lower price."
"And is our play a 'first run'?" asked Ruth.
"It will be for a time," answered Russ. "I think you girls did fine!"he went on. "Acting comes natural to you, I guess."
"Well, we've seen enough of it around the house, with daddy gettingready for some of his plays," admitted Alice. "Oh, I wish I could doit all over again!" she cried, gliding over to her sister andwhirling her off in a little waltz to the tune of a piano that wasplaying so that the performers in another play, representing a ballroom scene, might keep proper time.
"Did you like your part, Ruth?" asked Russ, after Alice had allowedher sister to quiet down.
"Yes. I always like a romantic character."
"I like fun!" confessed Alice. "The more the better!"
"Oh, will you ever grow up?" asked Ruth.
"I hope not--ever!" laughed Alice, gaily.
Off in another part of the studio Miss Pennington and her chum, MissDixon, were going through their parts. They looked over at Ruth,Alice and Russ, and their glances were far from friendly.
"I don't see what Mr. Pertell can see in those girls," remarked MissPennington, during a lull, when they did not have to be before thecamera.
"Neither do I," agreed her friend. "They can't act, and the airs theyput on!"
"Shocking!" commented Miss Pennington.
"Come, young ladies!" broke in the voice of the manager. "It is timefor you to go on again. And please put a little more vim into yourwork. I want that play to be a snappy one."
"Humph!" sneered Miss Dixon.
"If he wants more snap he ought to pay more money," whispered herfriend. "All he cares about now are those DeVere girls."
"Attention!" called the manager. "Get some good business into this,now. Mr. Switzer, when you come in, after that scene where you applyfor work, and can't get it, you must throw yourself into your chairdespondently. Do it as though you had lost all hope. You know what Imean."
"Vot you mean? Dot I should sit in it so?" and the German actorplumped himself into the chair in question by approaching it so thathe could sit on it in astride, in reverse position, folding his armsover the rounded back.
"No--no, not that way--not as if you were riding a horse!" cried themanager. "Throw yourself into it with abandon, as the stagedirections call for."
"Let me show him," broke in the melancholy voice of Wellington Bunn.
Striding into the scene, which had been interrupted to enable thisbit of rehearsal to be gone through with, the old Shakespearean actorapproached the chair and cast himself into it as though he had losthis last friend, and had no hope left on earth.
"That's the way--that's the idea--copy that!" cried Mr. Pertell,enthusiastically.
But he spoke too soon.
Mr. Bunn had cast himself into the chair with such "abandon" that thechair abandoned him. It fell apart, it disintegrated, it partedcompany with its legs--all at once--so that chair and actor came tothe ground in a heap.
"Oh, my! I am injured! A physician, I beseech you!" moaned Mr. Bunn,while others of the cast rushed to help him to his feet. He was soonpulled from the ruins of the chair.
"Ach! So. I unterstandt now!" exclaimed Mr. Switzer. "I haf yourmeaning now, of vat 'abandon' is, Mr. Pertell. I am to break derchair ven I sits on it, yes? Dot is 'abandon' a chair. Vot a queerlanquitch der English is, alretty. Vell, brings me annuder chair undI vill abandon it!"
Mr. Pertell threw his hands upwards in a despairing gesture.
"No--no!" he cried. "I didn't mean that way."
"Than vot you means?" asked the German, puzzled.
Meanwhile Wellington Bunn was painfully walking over to a moresubstantial chair.
"That was all a trick!" he cried. "You did that on purpose, Mr.Snooks. You provided a broken chair!"
"I did not!" protested the property man. "It was the way you threwyourself into it. What did you think it was made of--iron?"
"I knew something would happen!" observed Mr. Sneed, gloomily. "Ifelt it in my bones."
"Und I guess me dot he veels it in his bones, now," chuckled Mr.Switzer. "I am glat dot I, myself, did not abandon dot chair alrettyyet."
The play went on after a little delay, and for some time after thatthe Shakespearean actor was very chary of offering to show otheractors how to put "abandon" into their parts.
So far as could be told by an inspection of the negatives of thefirst important play in which Ruth and Alice had appeared, it was asuccess. Of course how it would "take" with the public was yet to belearned.
Meanwhile other plays were being considered, and Mr. Pertell repeatedhis promise, that if "A False Count" was successful he would giveRuth and Alice real "star" parts. They were eager for this, and, nowthat their father had seen how well they did, he was enthusiasticover them, and very glad to let them go on in the moving picturebusiness.
"Who knows," he said, "but what it may mend the broken fortunes ofthe DeVere family?"
One evening Russ came over to the apartment of the girls.
"Come on out!" he called, gaily.
"Where?" asked Ruth.
"To the m
oving pictures. I've got a surprise for you. They are goingto try my new invention for the first time."
"May we go, Daddy?" asked Alice, anxiously.
"Yes, I guess so," he answered, absentmindedly, hardly looking upfrom the manuscript of a new play he was studying.
So Russ took the girls.
"Oh, let's see what is going on!" begged Ruth, as they came to a haltoutside a nearby moving picture theater.
"No, don't bother now!" urged Russ, gently urging them away from thelithographs and pictures in front of the place. "We're a bit late,and we want to get good seats."
He got them inside before they had more than a fleeting glimpse ofthe advertisements of the films that were to be shown, and soon theywere comfortably settled.
"I wonder what we'll see?" mused Ruth, looking about the darkenedtheater. The performance was just about to start.
"I wish we could see our play," spoke Alice. "When do you think wecan, Russ?"
"Oh, soon now," he answered, and the girls thought they heard himlaugh. They wondered why.
The first film was shown--a western scene, and the girls were notmuch interested in it, except that Ruth remarked:
"The pictures seem much clearer than usual."
"That's on account of my invention," said Russ, proudly. "I'm gladyou noticed it." Then the girls were more interested. A little later,when the title of the next play was shown, Ruth and Alice could notrepress exclamations of pleased surprise. For it was "A False Count!"
"Why, Russ Dalwood!" whispered Alice. "Did you know this was here?"
"Sure!" he chuckled.
"Oh, that's why you hurried us in without giving us a chance to seewhat the bill was," reproached Ruth.
"Yes, I wanted to surprise you."
"Well, you did it all right," remarked Alice.
And then the girls gave themselves up to watching the moving picturesof themselves on the screen.
It was rather an uncanny experience at first, but they soon becameused to it, and gave themselves up to the enjoyment of the littleplay, made doubly delightful from the fact that they had helped tomake it.
"I'd hardly know myself," whispered Alice.
"Nor I," added her sister.
From the darkness behind them came a voice saying:
"I saw this play this afternoon, Mollie. It's fine. I like the tallactress best," and she referred to Ruth, whose presentment was thenon the screen. "She's so romantic, I think."
"Listen to that!" Alice said to her sister. "Don't your ears burn?"
"Indeed they do. Oh! isn't it queer to see yourself, and hearyourself criticised?"
"Wasn't that fine?" demanded the unseen critic behind the sisters, asRuth did an effective bit of acting. "Oh, I know I'm just going tolove her. I hope she is in lots of films."
"So do I," added her companion. "But I like the small one best--theone that was in the scene before this."
"Oh, you mean the jolly one?"
"Yes."
"That's you, Alice," whispered Ruth. "Now it's your turn for yourears to burn."
"I thought you'd like this," commented Russ. "This film is a hit, allright."
And so it seemed, for the audience applauded when the little photoplay was over, and that is a pretty good test.
"I think they were perfectly splendid," said another voice off to theleft.
"Who, those two girls in that play?" some one asked.
"Yes. They're new ones, too. I haven't seen them in any of theComet's other plays."
"Yes, I guess they must be new," and this was a girl's voice back inthe darkness of the theater. "Oh, I'd like to meet them! I wish Icould act for the movies!"
"She doesn't know how near she is to meeting us!" whispered Alice toher sister, as the next film was flashed on the white screen. "Didyou ever have an experience like this before?"
"I never did!"