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 LAUGHTER LIMITED 
 NINA WILCOX PUTNAM
 
 LAUGHTER 
 LIMITED 
 
 BY 
 
 NINA WILCOX PUTNAM 
 
 AUTHOR OF "TOMORROW WE DIET," "IT PAYS TO SMILE," 
 "WEST BROADWAY," "ADAM'S GARDEN," ETC. 
 
 
 NEW >JijP YORK 
 GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1922, 
 BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 LAUGHTER LIMITED. II 
 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
 
 TO 
 GEORGE H. DORAN 
 
 IN FRIENDSHIP AND FAITH 
 N. W. P. 
 
 2137796
 
 LAUGHTER LIMITED
 
 LAUGHTER LIMITED 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 'IT THEN some people write the story of their life it 
 * * is a sign that they are dead. Take Johnson, the 
 one that Boswell wrote the scenario for. And look 
 how Shakspere wrote about Caesar after somebody had 
 handed him a haymaker. And now watch Mr. Tu- 
 multy. And so forth. 
 
 There are in the motion-picture world also a class of 
 dead ones who allow somebody else to write their biog- 
 raphy. Dead from the neck up, anyways. They may 
 be alive as stars all right, but they couldn't write a 
 continuity for the story of a custard pie. So when one 
 of the trade or fan papers decides to shove a piece of 
 their private history before the public for consideration 
 of one dollar in hand paid and other good and valua- 
 ble consideration, why, all the star generally does is 
 sign the piece and 'phone down to the publicity depart- 
 ment for some new stills. 
 
 As a result there is a lot of misunderstanding in the 
 public mind about what goes on in pictures. I mean 
 about the real inside dope. Some have the idea that 
 we are a bunch of sky chasers who never hit anything 
 lower than the roof of the Singer Building, and are 
 morally as bad if not worse than what they think rich 
 
 9
 
 10 Laughter Limited 
 
 society people are. But these of course are not the 
 sappy fans who believe what they read in the picture 
 magazines. These latter go around with the cuckoo 
 illusion that a motion-picture star's private life is all 
 front lawn, white flannel clothes, dainty children and 
 sweet mothers, the whole served with vanilla sauce, and 
 tinctured with extract of noble sentiment. While as 
 a plain matter of fact neither type of fan is correct. 
 
 Realizing it to be high time somebody who knew told 
 the truth about pictures and picture people was what 
 decided me on writing my own story instead of mak- 
 ing my mark just under the Tille on the stuff Benny 
 had sent up to me from our lot. 
 
 "Miss Delane," says young Mr. Rolf, our publicity 
 head, flapping a fat typewritten manuscript at me. 
 "The Big Egg has O.K.'d this script for Closeups. It's 
 your autobiography and it ought to go over big. Kate 
 Kinner wrote it the girl who did your How-I-Brush- 
 My-Teeth story, and that thing of yours about The 
 Way to Hold Men, for the same magazine." 
 
 "Give me it," I says, reaching for the dope sheet; 
 and he did, and this is what I saw : 
 
 MY PAST AND MY PEOPLE 
 
 Bonnie Delane, Famous Silvermount Star, tells her 
 own story exclusively for Closeups Magazine. The inner 
 life of America's best-known picture actress revealed for 
 the first time for Closeup readers. 
 
 "Oh, is that a fact?" I says, very much interested. 
 "This is a revelation not only to the public but to me. 
 How does your department get that way, anyhow?"
 
 Laughter Limited 11 
 
 "Oh, it's a good story," says Slim Rolf hastily. 
 "You'll like it. We start you out the daughter of a 
 Spanish countess and describe your father, the general, 
 and how you went to the most exclusive schools and 
 convents until the big smash came, and " 
 
 "Hold !" I says. "Big smash is well said ! And as 
 for old General Debility say, Slim, how far do you 
 think you can go, anyways? With your imagination 
 you ought to be in the scenario department." 
 
 "Well, far be it from me to tell the truth on you, 
 honey," says Rolf with a grin. 
 
 "That's a nasty crack from a broken little mug like 
 you!" I says. "What's the matter with introducing 
 a little truth into pictures for a novelty?" 
 
 "What do you want to do wreck the. industry?" 
 says he. 
 
 "Say, listen !" I says. "If the industry could of been 
 wrecked it would of happened long ago, with the bunch 
 of clowns running it that is! Nix! Pictures are too 
 strong ever to be wrecked by anything unless it's this 
 continual false front the ones that is in it keeps up all 
 the time." 
 
 "Whatter you mean, false front?" says Rolf. 
 
 "I mean in every department!" I says. "And in 
 practically every concern. Also in the private lives of 
 actors and etcetera. You know as good as I do, Rolfie, 
 that we as a industry, generally speaking, have got into 
 the habit of thinking that we could get away with mur- 
 der if only we kept on showing a baby-blue side to the 
 public and advertising it enough. Sweet daddy! If 
 the picture people really lived the lives the picture
 
 12 Laughter Limited 
 
 magazines attribute to them they would all be dead 
 of anaemia long ago!" 
 
 "Ennui !" says Slim. 
 
 "Well, something weakening!" I conceded. "And 
 say. honey," I went on, "you don't for one minute think 
 the public believes that guff, do you ?" 
 
 "They buy it," he pointed out. "You see, Bonnie, 
 they don't want to know the truth !" 
 
 "Don't they, though!" I exclaimed. "Say, listen! 
 There's nothing in the world they would rather know. 
 Pictures are the biggest, most important art in the 
 world to-day and have got the biggest future of any, 
 and the public knows it. Also the public hears a lot 
 of dope about wild times, big money, crooked con- 
 tracts, and something-for-nothing generally; and as it 
 is their admission money which is being spent that way, 
 they are interested. Also because of the glamour of it, 
 Slim, but most of all because pictures have come to 
 stay people believe in them, and with cause. They 
 are the greatest " 
 
 "Whoa !" says Rolfie. "Any time you get fired come 
 over to the hot-air department and see me." 
 
 "But I mean it!" I says earnestly. "This is the 
 greatest art-industry in the world, and truth would 
 never hurt it ; truth, you know, kid, never injured any 
 innocent party yet!" 
 
 "Have a heart!" says Slim. "When did pictures 
 get so pure? How about the B. and G. merger? And 
 Reggie's contract with Goldringer eh?" 
 
 "Oh, I know there is plenty of crooks out of jail," 
 I says impatiently, "but they are not all in the picture
 
 Laughter Limited 13 
 
 business. There are also plenty of angels out of 
 heaven, and they are not all registered exclusively with 
 us, either. And my publishing twelve installments of 
 fumigated biography isn't going to fool anybody. 
 Why, nobody could be as pure or as swell as this 
 stuff makes me out, and live! I refuse to let it 
 be printed." 
 
 "The hell you say!" remarked Slim. "Well, the 
 magazine has contracted for your life story, and we 
 got to deliver. Besides, think of the publicity!" 
 
 "All right!" I says, inspired. "I got nothing to do 
 for the next week; I'll write it myself!" 
 
 Rolf looked at me as if he'd overdrawn at the bank. 
 
 "Well, go easy, now!" he says uncomfortably. "Of 
 course you are your own boss and can do as you like, 
 but just kindly remember you are under no real neces- 
 sity to tell on the family." 
 
 "I'll tell nothing uncalled for," I says. "Although, 
 of course, no matter what I write somebody will be 
 sure to kick about it." 
 
 "And you'll publish what you write?" says Slim, 
 wrinkling up his nose in a troubled way he has. 
 
 "I will," I says, firm as an old maid at the altar. 
 
 "That's a hell of a note!" says Rolf. "Well, I 
 wisht you'd leave me see it before it goes out." 
 
 "Nix!" I replied. 
 
 "But there's likely to be mistakes in grammar and 
 everything!" Rolfie objected frankly. 
 
 "There will be, in the grammar," I said. "But no 
 editing from you, much obliged just the same!" 
 
 "Well, don't put any salt on the tail of any boom-
 
 14 Laughter Limited 
 
 erang, that's all, Bonnie," says Slim, gloomily picking 
 up his kelly and the rejected script, "or you might 
 catch it in the neck yourself!" 
 
 Flashing which melancholy subtitle he departed, and 
 left me stacked up against the big proposition which 
 I had undertaken. 
 
 Well, after Slim had gone I got to thinking the 
 matter over, and the more I thought the greater amount 
 of enjoyment I got out of it. 
 
 To begin with, everybody will realize how much 
 pleasure it is for any woman to talk about herself. 
 And further, the merest dumb-bell will realize what 
 a kick is to be got out of telling the story of one's life. 
 Anybody will do it just give 'em the chance, that's 
 all ! Of course the habit is mostly confined to drunks, 
 but pretty nearly anyone will come across after a 
 little urging, and some, on the contrary, you can't 
 stop from doing it. Lacking the chance to recite the 
 story of our life the next best thing is to write it. 
 And in either case the beginning is apt to be a bore. 
 
 Nobody but yourself cares about how you felt as a 
 kid, or your awakening to the big problem of there-is- 
 no-Santa-Claus, and other religious convictions. And 
 the chief reason for this is that life doesn't really begin 
 until you go out into it. 
 
 So I decided to let the reader take for granted that 
 I was born in my native town, and et cetera, and com- 
 mence with my own start, which really began on the 
 opening night of The Stonybrook Follies of 1920. 
 And I also decided not to have any fool title to this
 
 Laughter Limited 15 
 
 biography, such as they run in the ordinary picture 
 magazine, but to call it by the simple plain name of 
 
 THE REAL STORY OF 
 
 BONNIE DELANE'S STARTLING CAREER 
 
 BY HERSELF
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 T NEVER could of done it if I had known Strick; 
 * was in the audience. You know how it is, per 
 haps. You can make a swell snappy speech at th 
 stag dinner, but only stutter if friend wife is amongs 
 those present. Or if your sweetie is down front, th< 
 valedictory which sounded so well in front of you 
 bedroom mirror comes out like the contents of a non 
 refillable bottle, in little spouts and dashes. 
 
 So it's a good thing I didn't know Strick was ther 
 until afterward, although why I didn't see him when 
 looked out at the audience from behind the curtains o 
 the high-school-auditorium stage is a wonder to me 
 because to begin with he was a complete stranger t< 
 our town and was sitting all the time with Bert Green 
 our leading and only photographer, and I was kin< 
 of looking for old Bert Green, he being a particula 
 friend of mine and had taken a lot of photos of m< 
 free, on account of my map going so well in hi 
 showcase. 
 
 But some way or another I missed seeing either o 
 those boys. You know the way a big hall seatinj 
 nearly three hundred people and all lit up with a dozei 
 or more electric lights looks from the stage- 
 sort of blurry and confusing. I could hardly tell on 
 from another, except, of course, pop, but then I ha< 
 bought his seat myself and I could plainly see hin 
 
 16
 
 Laughter Limited 17 
 
 occupying it and a little bit of the seats on either 
 hand, as well. 
 
 Then I was terribly excited, too. Ridiculous, of 
 course, because here I had been acting in every show 
 the Stonybrook Dramatic Club had given for the past 
 three winters, or since I was just barely fifteen, and 
 ought to have become accustomed to the big audiences 
 that always turned out on these occasions. But 
 although I was San Whoosis the year we gave The 
 Mikado and that's the leading woman's part, and had 
 led the Floradora Sextet in the performance we gave 
 for the benefit of the new church organ, and other 
 parts besides, not to mention receiving the Mrs. Carrie 
 Benton Prize for elocution in grammar school, I had 
 never got over being nervous before a performance, 
 and going all hot and cold and my throat pulsing and 
 other bona fide symptoms of the genuine artistic tem- 
 perament. And this night of the Stonybrook Follies 
 of 1920, which was a sort of super amateur vaudeville, 
 I was about to do a daring novelty specialty which my 
 chum Ella Benton and Mr. Schoonmacker, our choir- 
 master, and I had gotten up ourselves, so I felt more 
 temperamental than usual. 
 
 It was really a wonderful program we had, taking 
 off all the follies of the town of Stonybrook, you see. 
 There was a opening violin solo by little Afcnie Ben- 
 ton, Ella's younger sister, and the committee had put 
 that on the program first because of being afraid the 
 folks wouldn't wait for it otherwise as Annie was only 
 eleven and her mother had kindly but firmly volunteered 
 Annie's services.
 
 18 Laughter Limited 
 
 Then after Annie had played Moonlight on the 
 Sonata, by Beethoven, there was a scream of a skit 
 on our Ladies' Literary Club meeting, with fat old 
 Mr. Edwards, the bicycle-repair-shop man, as Mrs. 
 Edwards, his own wife, leading the meeting. Then 
 after that a couple of the boys sang a song that had 
 a line on pretty nearly everybody in the hall in it, to 
 the tune of You'd be Surprised, and Mr. Schoon- 
 macker, in evening clothes, played A Medley Jazz on 
 the piano, and then came our act. 
 
 It was a parody on Trixie Trueman in her great 
 special film production Rich Men's Daughters, and I 
 took the part of Trixie. It was the scene where Trixie 
 is rocking the cradle with her poor little unwanted baby 
 in it, and her father that was Mr. Schoonmacker 
 goes off to work, and the heavy that was Ella, in 
 boy's clothes, mustache and all comes in and tries 
 to kill them both. If I do say it we had gone to a 
 lot of trouble with the set, having hung black mosquito 
 netting between us and the audience, and hiring a 
 special machine all the way from New Haven, which 
 Joe Shilke, the colored janitor of the school, operated 
 for us from the balcony and which threw a flickery 
 light on us while we acted, giving just exactly the 
 effect of a moving picture almost. 
 
 Well, I went through my part without accident, 
 and Mr. Schoonmacker was fine, and if Ella hadn't 
 lost her mustache in the excitement towards the end, 
 the act would of gone off perfectly. By good luck the 
 folks thought she lost it on purpose, and anyways the 
 act went over big 1 , so that when I left the stage my
 
 Laughter Limited 19 
 
 cheeks felt like they was burning up, and I hardly 
 knew I was walking as I come around through the 
 wings where the blackboards and desks and things 
 which usually occupied the stage had been stored for 
 the evening, meaning to go down front in my costume 
 and make-up and see the rest of the show myself; 
 also to give the audience another chance to look at me 
 the way I was. It's awful hard to lay off acting, once 
 you got a costume on. 
 
 Well, as I come down the steps from the stage door 
 that opened out into the hall, naturally one or two 
 grabbed me and told me how good I was, and first 
 among them of course was Bert. 
 
 "Bonnie, you were immense!" he says in a loud 
 whisper, his glasses falling off his long nose the way 
 they always did every few minutes when he got ex- 
 cited, but always fortunately being caught by the black 
 string he had them on. "Immense simply great! 
 We all thought you were wonderful!" 
 
 "Did you, honestly, Bert?" I whispered back. And 
 then I noticed Bert was not alone. Behind him in the 
 dimness was another man some boy, I could lamp 
 that, even in the dark! And then in another second 
 Bert was making us acquainted. 
 
 "Meet Miss Bonnie McFadden, Mr. Greg Strick- 
 land," Bert whispered. "Stricky thought your acting 
 was immense," he added in a whisper as the elegant 
 Mr. Strickland and I shook. 
 
 "Delighted !" he murmured. "Aren't you coming to 
 sit with us?" 
 
 I could only nod dumbly, because the curtain was
 
 20 Laughter Limited 
 
 getting ready to struggle up again by now, and we 
 had to hustle into our seats. But all through the next 
 number, which was a kind of Americanized Greek 
 dance, rendered by Miss Lassell, the Delsarte teacher, 
 I could hardly look at the fctage for looking at Mr. 
 Strickland, and yet trying not to let him know it. 
 
 This bird was far different from any which had 
 as yet flown into our town; I got that right away. 
 And I was in a position to know, because of meeting 
 probably more visiting men than any other girl. You 
 see I did practically all the buying for pop's store 
 and saw every traveling man that come through. But 
 none of these were the least bit like Mr. Strickland. 
 
 I kept sizing him up out of the corner of my eye, 
 and he certainly had class. Washed? Within a inch 
 of his life! He was the most thoroughly washed- 
 looking person I had ever set eyes on. He even 
 smelled faintly of some clean scent that wasn't soap 
 and certainly wasn't cologne. The handkerchief peep- 
 ing out of his breast pocket was pure linen with a 
 hand-embroidered cut-work monogram, and every- 
 thing else about him was to match. I don't mean in 
 the sense of socks and tie and colored border. Far 
 from it. I mean he had class; snap and an awful lot 
 of knowledge showed in every line. He sure give 
 me a thrill, and made me wild with excitement about 
 who and what he was and where he come from. And 
 when in the middle of Miss Lassell's Greek dance he 
 leaned across me and whispered to Bert, I nearly 
 passed out on the minute, for here is what he said. 
 
 "I say. Bert !" he whispered, not loud, but only so's
 
 Laughter Limited 21 
 
 the people in our immediate vicinity could hear him 
 "I say, Bert, the last time I had dinner with Doug 
 and Mary, Charlie did a parody of a dance like that, 
 and by Jove, it was almost as funny as this is !" 
 
 "Is that so?" says Bert. "It must of been immense ! 
 Mr. Strickland is in the pictures," he added to me. 
 
 Well, he didn't need to. I had got it the first time. 
 My heart give a jump so big it's a wonder I didn't 
 lose it. So that was the answer, was it ? I might of 
 known! Perhaps he was even a well-known lead? 
 I took a good look at his handsome profile, and decided! 
 not. If he had been anybody's juvenile I would of 
 known it, for very few had got by me, even then, and 
 I don't know how our local picture theater would of 
 met expenses only for Ella and me. 
 
 "So you are in the pictures, Mr. Strickland?" I 
 whispered at him. 
 
 "Ah yes!" he whispered back. "Casting director 
 with Silvermount." 
 
 That was pretty nearly too much for me. If he had 
 of said he was the President it wouldn't of been half 
 the jolt. Mr. and Mrs. Cummings, in front, heard 
 and turned to look. Also everybody else in hearing 
 distance, one at a time, the way they do when they 
 overhear things. Then Miss Lassell's act was over 
 to polite clapping and the lights come on. Right away 
 Mr. Strickland turned toward me, leaning on the back 
 of his chair in a pose of elegant restlessness, his big 
 brown eyes sort of eating me up. 
 
 "I say, Bertie, old boy," said he, still looking at 
 me, however, "can't we cut out of this and go some-
 
 22 Laughter Limited 
 
 where? I'm sure Miss McFadden has seen this ama- 
 teur stuff often enough already, and I'm dying to 
 talk to the only real actress in the show !" 
 
 Imagine ! 
 
 "Why, I guess we could go over to the ice-cream 
 parlor/' says Bert. 
 
 "How about it?" says Strickland quickly to me, al- 
 ready reaching for his hat. "Let's go!" 
 
 "All right !" I says. "But my make-up " 
 
 "Oh, never mind it," says Strickland. "It is charm- 
 ingly becoming." 
 
 And then somehow we were up and leaving the hall. 
 A thing which simply wasn't done at a Stonybrook 
 Dramatic Club's annual performance. People turned 
 and stared. But all of a sudden I felt miles above 
 them; I belonged to the professional world. A tal- 
 ented young actress using her privilege of behaving 
 different from the common herd and just naturally 
 beating it off in company with a casting director and 
 a art photographer. We should worry about a bunch 
 of hicks gathered to watch a bum amateur show, or 
 what they thought of us! 
 
 In fact the only thing worried me was that pop 
 might spot us and wish himself on the party. But 
 luckily he didn't, and I got my coat out of the lobby 
 as quick as I could, and then the three of us set off 
 along the wet, wintry street in the dark, with the damp 
 leaves sticking to the tar pavements and to our shoes, 
 down towards Joe's place, where the red-and-white 
 electric ice-cream sign made a bright spot in the silent 
 center of town.
 
 Laughter Limited 23 
 
 "Are you staying here long, Mr. Strickland?" I 
 asked as soon as I got courage enough to control my 
 throat. 
 
 "Just for to-night," he said. "I have my reserva- 
 tions West for to-morrow. I've wired the Coast to 
 expect me by Monday at the latest." 
 
 "California?" says I. 
 
 "Yes," says Mr. Strickland, swishing at the dead 
 leaves. "Hollywood. You'd better come along," he 
 added, laughing. 
 
 "Sure thing!" I says. "Will you get me a 
 job?" 
 
 "I'd like the chance, no kidding," says he. "You 
 have a face that would screen wonderfully, Miss 
 McFadden." 
 
 "That's what I always tell her!" says old Bert 
 eagerly. "I'd just like to show you the last set of 
 cabinet photos I've made of her." 
 
 "I'd like to see them," says Strickland. "Of course 
 you know you are exactly Trixie Trueman's type," 
 he went on. "Only of course she is dark. By the way, 
 I see in the papers that she hasn't yet signed her new 
 contract with Silverman, just as I advised her. He 
 only offered her twenty-five hundred a week, which 
 is of course absurd for a girl in her position. I told 
 her she'd be a fool to take it unless he gave her a 
 piece of the picture as well." 
 
 "Of course!" I says, trying to appear as casual as 
 he. "How ridiculous!" 
 
 "Why, I think it's immense!" put in Bert, his eye- 
 glasses falling off. "Simply immense! What they
 
 24 Laughter Limited 
 
 tell about the big money in pictures is really so, then? 
 I always thought it was just for advertising!" 
 
 "Of course it's true," says the visitor. "Fairbanks 
 makes at least a million a year, and heaven only knows 
 what the producers rake in ! Of course a little chap like 
 myself isn't worth much I only draw down five hun- 
 dred a week myself, but then, what do you expect for 
 doing all the real work?" 
 
 He seemed to think so little of the money that I 
 didn't dare pass any remark about that. But an idea 
 was already pounding my brain. 
 
 "Bert," I says, "if Mr. Strickland would really like 
 to see how I photograph couldn't you show him some 
 pictures?" 
 
 "Why not run up to the studio instead of the ice- 
 cream place?" said Mr. Strickland. "We can smoke 
 up there." 
 
 "Well, if Bonnie says so," says Bert doubtfully. 
 "We are right at it now." 
 
 "Of course, why not?" I says, trying to be nat- 
 urally Bohemian, but my heart pounding. To begin 
 with, it was the first time anybody in Stonybrook had 
 called Bert's shop a studio. Secondly, it was also 
 the first time I had ever gone to a studio at night. But 
 I did it. That evening I was crazy, and happy. All 
 made up like an actress, in a studio, with two profes- 
 sional men ; with cigarettes, even ! When we were in- 
 side, and Bert was getting out my pictures, I even took 
 a cigarette myself, from Mr. Strickland's gold-filled 
 case. 
 
 "You know you really ought to go in the pictures,
 
 Laughter Limited 25 
 
 Miss McFadden!" he says, lighting it for me. "No 
 kidding; you are wasting your time in this dead little 
 burg." 
 
 "Am I really like Trixie Trueman ?" I says. "She's 
 my favorite. I don't care so much for some of the 
 others. I go to pictures a lot, and I'm awfully critical." 
 
 "No wonder!" says he. "Considering what a lot 
 most actors get away with! But you'd be a hit, I 
 know ! I'll say you are the best-looking girl I've seen 
 in years. You won't mind me saying that?" 
 
 "And you think I'd screen?" says I. 
 
 "My dear girl, it's my business to know !" he comes 
 back at me. "What do you think a casting director 
 is?" 
 
 Well, up to then I hadn't been exactly sure, but now 
 I realized that my hunch had been right. He was the 
 bird that picked the chickens for parts! I wasn't any 
 more excited than if I had found a diamond necklace. 
 But I didn't show it much. 
 
 "You know you really are a most unusual type," he 
 went on. "Quite ideal, in fact. Those yellow curls, 
 now I'll bet they are your own!" 
 
 "Of course!" I says. 
 
 "Trixie's aren't," said he. 
 
 "What?" says I. 
 
 "Great heavens, I've seen her pin them on!" he 
 laughed. 
 
 I just absolutely couldn't speak for a moment. They 
 paid her twenty-five hundred a week and her hair was 
 false, and mine was real! Why, if that was so my 
 hair ought to be worth heavens knew what!
 
 26 Laughter Limited 
 
 "Look at these!" says Bert proudly bringing out 
 my pictures, every one of them mounted on his special 
 embossed extra-strong folders, sepia finished. 
 
 There I was at two years, at six, at ten. Then in 
 my graduation dress. And these I sort of hated Mr. 
 Strickland to see, but Bert loved them all. The one 
 with the gauze around my bare shoulders and the rose 
 behind my ear had more class, and my heart thumped 
 hard when Mi . Strickland held it up to the arch light. 
 
 "Wonderful future!" he murmured. "All you've 
 got to do is to try! You ought to come out to the 
 Coast. It's the only sensible thing to do."
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 course if I were to come out to Los 
 Angeles," I says languidly, "it would have to 
 be made worth my while. I really can't afford 
 experiments." 
 
 "Hollywood is where you'd go," says he. "That's 
 the real picture center. And of course you couldn't 
 expect to make a million right off the post. A bit 
 would be as much as you'd be likely to pry off for a 
 while, but even seventy-five or a hundred a week is 
 enough to exist on until you got on your feet. As I 
 was saying to Bill Hart the other night over at his 
 place. 'Bill,' I said, 'the trouble with pictures is that 
 there are not enough people in them willing to start 
 at the bottom; they all want to jump in at the top.' ' 
 
 "I'd start at the beginning," I said breathlessly, 
 "and I'd manage on seventy-five a week! Why, Mr. 
 Strickland, I never received seventy-five dollars all at 
 once in my life! Do you think I could make that 
 much, no kidding?" 
 
 He laughed in that easy, refined way of his, showing 
 his white teeth, awfully sharp under the neat little dark 
 mustache. 
 
 "Say, listen, Bonnie," he says. "You'd knock 'em 
 cold out there. Why, you'd draw a job at that price 
 twenty-four hours after you landed." 
 
 27
 
 28 Laughter Limited 
 
 "Your words are like music, Stricky," I says right 
 back at him, first name and all, just to show I was no 
 amateur. "But I don't see how I could get away." 
 
 "Say, listen !" he said. "Why not come out ? Think 
 of Hollywood as compared to this dump! No cold, 
 no rain to speak of lots of sunshine and flowers all 
 the year. And the beaches wait until you see the 
 beaches ! You couldn't give me the East ! Not after 
 living ten years on the Coast! Why, there's nothing 
 to it!" 
 
 He meant no argument against it. I give a sigh 
 and stared about at Bert's handsome, real varnished, 
 all-solid-white-pine studio with the framed group of 
 the Sunshine Society Convention on the south wall. 
 Gee, but it seemed unreal to me at that moment ! The 
 only reality was the picture of California that Stricky 
 had just parked in my mind. It was as delicious as 
 perfume. But I didn't lose my head. I'd met too 
 many traveling men single-handed, for that. 
 
 "California would be nice," I says, "if you are sure 
 I could get a job there." 
 
 "Why, there's nothing to it !" he says again. "With 
 
 your face, your hair your figure, and your height 
 
 About four feet eight, aren't you?" I nodded. 
 
 "I thought so!" he exclaimed. "The ideal Holly- 
 wood height! Play opposite any man in the pictures 
 without dwarfing him. That's important. I was talk- 
 ing to Charlie Chaplin not long ago about that very 
 thing. So many queens are too tall to play across 
 from him, you see!" 
 
 Well, I wasn't blind of course. But my height was
 
 Laughter Limited 29 
 
 a talent of mine I hadn't considered before. However, 
 I begun to get an idea that maybe I was really as good 
 as I had all along been hoping I was. I decided to 
 present this bird's own check and see would he honor 
 it; and so in a voice I could hardly control I put it 
 up to Stricky put it up straight. 
 
 "Will you give me a job, Stricky?" I says. 
 
 "Sure I will any time you come out," he 'says 
 promptly. Too promptly. Then he pulls out a card 
 from a leather case with gold corners to it. "You can 
 always reach me there," says he. 
 
 I took it and read it before tucking it away in the 
 pocket of my seal-plush coat: "G. Robert Strickland, 
 Silvermount Productions, Hollywood." 
 
 There was a little silence for a moment while I did 
 this. And I stretched it out on purpose, because of 
 revolving something further over in my mind. I 
 ached to say it, but hardly dared. Suppose I pulled 
 my demand and then found that I had also pulled 
 a boner? Suppose my lack of complete trust in him 
 got him off me for life, just as we was getting real 
 friendly? If I lost my chance by being too business- 
 like I might never get another like it again. Then, 
 on the other hand, I'd been running things in pop's store 
 too long not to of learned that business is business 
 and friendship ought always to be to one side of it. 
 I remembered this, and also that when I ordered a bill 
 of goods for the store I never hesitated to sign my 
 name to the order and so why should Mr. G. Robert 
 Strickland ? 
 
 Of course there was no comparison between order-
 
 30 Laughter Limited 
 
 ing me and ordering a dozen cases of lemon soda. 
 But the principle was the same in both instances. Real- 
 izing this great truth, that clean-cut business affairs 
 makes friendships and never broke one yet, I decided 
 to take a chance. Looking at him with my own pe- 
 culiar trusting, baby stare I shot. 
 
 "And will you give me a contract, Stricky ?" 
 
 "Why er well, of course!" says he, more sur- 
 prised than I liked. 
 
 "Now?" I says. 
 
 He laughed his gay laugh at that. 
 
 "Listen to the kid !" he cried. "Say do you think I 
 go around evenings with the legal department in my 
 vest pocket?" 
 
 "But you do make contracts of course?" Bert put in 
 over the top of his glasses. 
 
 "Why er certainly we do!" says Strick. "But 
 our legal department has to draw them up. I haven't 
 a form with me, worse luck, or we might get it done 
 right here in town." 
 
 "Then will you mail me one as soon as you get to 
 the Coast?" I kept on at him. "I'd like to have some- 
 thing definite before I start West." 
 
 "All right, I'll do that little thing!" says Strick 
 lightly. "You said it ! And I'll get you the best money 
 a beginner ever had, Bonnie, my dear!" 
 
 How easy it was to get into the pictures. What a 
 snap! Just like I had read about a hundred times. 
 All a person needed was a good screen face and half 
 an opening. And I had both. All of a sudden I felt 
 it was time to go home, to beat it while I had things
 
 Laughter Limited 31 
 
 where I wanted them. And outside of that, the strain 
 had been something fierce for a few moments. Right 
 now I wanted the air, I wanted to be alone so's to 
 be able to pinch myself and be sure I was awake, and 
 give myself a good look in the mirror. Stonybrook, 
 Connecticut, wasn't real any more. Only Bonnie Mc- 
 Fadden was real. A hundred dollars a week ! Bonnie 
 McFadden's salary ! A thousand a week before long. 
 And some day I would be turning down twenty-five 
 hundred per unless they slipped me a quarter interest 
 in the picture as well. And all for dressing beauti- 
 fully and walking around in front of a camera for a 
 few minutes a day on days when I felt willing to. 
 I picked up my horrid old seal-plush coat and flung it 
 on me with an ermine gesture, and made my voice as 
 bally English as Stricky's had been before he got to 
 talking naturally. 
 
 "It's so awfully late for Stonybrook," I says, "that 
 I'd really better slip along home !" 
 
 "All right !" says Stricky, jumping up and grabbing 
 his lid. "I'll see Bonnie home, Bert, while you lock 
 up. I'll be right back." 
 
 "I like your crust!" says Bert. "But I can take a 
 hint when it's registered with an ax." 
 
 "Good night, Bert!" I says over my shoulder as I 
 tucked my arm into Stricky's. "Remember you're a 
 friend of mine!" 
 
 And then the two of us slipped out into the cold, 
 wet street that didn't seem a bit either cold or nasty 
 any more, but like the road to heaven or something. 
 And as we walked along Stricky pulled a line of kid-
 
 32 Laughter Limited 
 
 ding that would of done any girl's heart good if only 
 they had been able to listen undividedly. But I 
 couldn't, because of thinking what would I do when 
 Stricky saw where I lived ? What would I say ? How 
 would I get away with it? I was worried clean 
 through. 
 
 "Say, listen, suppose I hadn't run up here to stay 
 overnight with Bert!" Stricky was saying. "Just by 
 accident, as one might say. And say, listen, do you 
 know he had to drag me to that show by main force ? 
 What an escape, eh, baby? Say, I wouldn't have 
 missed you for a million! And to think I imagined 
 to-night was going to be punishment! You won't 
 mind my speaking of it, Bonnie, but it's not only your 
 looks, it's your class, that's got to me. Nothing small 
 time about you! If there is one thing makes me glad, 
 it's class, and you sure have got it!" 
 
 Well, I didn't feel any more like cheering when he 
 says that than before. Because we had reached my 
 home, and he would have to know the awful truth. 
 The house was looming up before us now, right in 
 the center of town, enormous and sort of spooky and 
 vague. The closed shutters, especially the high-up 
 ones in the mansard roof, give it a forbidding appear- 
 ance, even at night, and the pair of iron stags on the 
 wide lawn seemed sort of to move in the swaying light 
 of the street lamp. The front was all dark of course, 
 but down in the basement side entrance pop had left a 
 lamp burning for me. 
 
 "Well, this is as far as I go!" I says, laughing 
 nervously.
 
 Laughter Limited 33 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Stricky. "Is this where you 
 live? The biggest place in town, isn't it?" 
 
 "I guess so," I replied. 
 
 He didn't say anything at once, but somehow his 
 manner changed. I could feel it even in the dark as 
 he took my elbow politely and started piloting me up 
 the tar path toward the front door. 
 
 "I'm really awfully glad to have met you, Miss 
 Bonnie," he says, more in the manner he had used 
 back in the hall. "I hope you won't think I've had 
 an awful crust, the way I've talked. I had no idea 
 well you are not going to forget me?" 
 
 "It's the other door where the light is," I says. 
 "And how can I forget you when I'm going to get a 
 contract from you?" 
 
 "Of course!" says he. Then he took off his hat, 
 very respectful and charming. "Good night," he 
 says. "It's been delightful. You will hear from 
 me soon." 
 
 "Good night, don't forget!" I says, and went in, 
 closing the basement door behind me. I stood there 
 against the wall a minute, listening to the sound of his 
 footsteps going away down the quiet street and won- 
 dering what it was had changed him in those last 
 few moments? Why the sudden respect? It wasn't 
 cold feet, that was a cinch. It was awe. He was im- 
 pressed. Good land! Impressed with the house! 
 That was it. The enormous old show place of Stony- 
 brook Center. I leaned back against the wall and 
 laughed into my handkerchief so's pop wouldn't hear 
 me. Way down the street somebody Stricky, most
 
 34 Laughter Limited 
 
 like had begun to whistle sharp and clear, You'd be 
 Surprised. 
 
 "I'll say he would," I whispered, "if he knew pop 
 and me was the caretakers here !"
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 \ IN'T it funny how a person you have known all 
 ** your life can tell you a thing again and again 
 and you don't believe them, and then all of a sudden 
 some perfect stranger blows in and pulls the same line 
 and you take their word for it without even swallow- 
 ing twice ? 
 
 That's the way I was with Bert and Stricky. Dear 
 old Bert! He was kind of lonesome in our town, I 
 guess, on account of having too much artistic tem- 
 perament to get along with the other inhabitants, yet 
 not enough to get out and show them. So he picked 
 on me as a method of self-expression, and had me all 
 dated to do the things he'd always wanted to. I liked 
 his believing in me. He was the only one in town that 
 did, but I didn't believe he knew. And now the very 
 snappiest, worldliest man that had ever shown around 
 our parts came along and backed him up ! 
 
 Well, when Stricky's fashionably shod footsteps had 
 died away I took the lamp and started for my room, 
 walking easy so's not to wake up pop. Of course we 
 had just the basement of the house, but those four 
 rooms was the only home I could remember, pop 
 having got the job of looking after the place when 
 mom died. And a lucky thing for us that Milton 
 Sherrill decided to keep the house from sentiment, 
 even though the family was all dead but him, and he 
 
 35
 
 36 Laughter Limited 
 
 lived out in California himself, only coming East once 
 in a great while. 
 
 Pop had accepted this caretaking job because it was 
 easier than earning rent money. Mr. Sherrill didn't 
 pay pop for looking after things, but rent free is rent 
 free, and pop, I suppose, did the work until I was big 
 enough to, though I can hardly remember such a time. 
 I couldn't have been more than seven years old the 
 first day I cleaned the brass on the front door of my 
 own accord, inspired by Milton Sherrill's photograph, 
 which I had swiped out of the parlor upstairs and put 
 on my bureau. The owner had an awful nice face, 
 and had been about twenty years old when Bert made 
 this cabinet photo of him. I used to think Milton 
 smiled appreciatively whenever I took especial care of 
 his dead mother's things. Anyways I kidded myself 
 along like that, making a regular hero out of him and 
 doing more than I really needed to. 
 
 Well, my bedroom was what had been the servants' 
 dining room in the old days, and this night I crept 
 across the kitchen to it without disturbing anybody 
 but a few mice in the wall, and set the lamp down on 
 the dresser in front of Milton Sherrill's faded old 
 photo, which I still kept there. But I hardly noticed 
 it. All it meant to me just then was that it stood 
 guard to my amateur but absolutely secret safe-deposit 
 vault. Large as it was I wanted to reassure myself 
 with a flash at what I had parked away in the little 
 drawer against which Milton was leaning so smilingly. 
 So I flecked him aside and, digging under my pair of 
 white gloves and my two veils, my sample of French
 
 Laughter Limited 37 
 
 perfume and my real lace handkerchief, took out my 
 savings-bank book, opened it, made sure the last total 
 really said four hundred berries, give the blessed 
 numerals a hearty good-night kiss, and stuck the stuff 
 all back where it belonged. 
 
 I didn't pull off a great deal of sleep, however, but 
 lay a long time staring at the bars of light the street 
 lamp threw on the ceiling, acting out all kinds of scenes 
 in my mind, where I turned down leading producers, 
 refused to marry millionaires, and had my maid clean- 
 ing my jewels, and so forth. Incidentally, I sure hated 
 myself for having saved every cent that had come my 
 way for the last four years ! Because, as far as I had 
 heard, they weren't giving away tickets to Los An- 
 geles that season. Sweet daddy, some dreams, I had ! 
 And then the first thing I knew, I was sitting up in 
 bed, realizing that the bell I heard was not the Prince 
 of Wales calling on the telephone, but the alarm clock 
 remarking that the kitchen stove went out if neglected 
 after six o'clock. 
 
 I took the hint, still in the magic haze which had 
 sprung up around me last night. And as I dressed I 
 looked out of the barred window at the dead grass and 
 old leaves that pop had for two months now been con- 
 sidering raking up. I shivered as I looked. The base- 
 ment window brought the lawn about level with my 
 nose and I could smell its damp odor even through the 
 glass. Down at the depot the 6.05 was whistling. 
 Stricky would be going out on that. He'd have to, 
 if he was leaving first thing, like he'd said, for we 
 only had one morning train out that time of year.
 
 38 Laughter Limited 
 
 Stricky on his way to California where they had sun 
 and flowers and oh, gee -everything ! 
 
 The thought didn't make me sore or depressed, 
 though. I remembered the contract that was coming to 
 me, and deliberately switched my mind to coal scuttles 
 and fried eggs. 
 
 "Get on the job, B. McFadden," I told myself, stick- 
 ing my curls under a winter-weight boudoir cap that 
 I used, not to keep my brains warm as might be sup- 
 posed, but because yellow hair gets dirty so easy. 
 "Calm down now, and do to-day's job to-day, and to- 
 morrow will dope itself out!" 
 
 With which words of wisdom I started fixing up 
 the eats, and pretty soon the smell of coffee drew 
 pop's handsome curly head out of his room. 
 
 "Is that yourself stirring about, Bonnie dear?" he 
 says, following his head and pulling his regular daily 
 line. "Sure I didn't know it was this late! I meant 
 to have a scuttle of coal up for you this morning !" 
 
 "Thanks, pop," I said. "Come on and eat now. 
 The train is in and the papers will be over to the 
 store soon. We don't want them to be late getting 
 around again!" 
 
 "Sure and I'm on me way!" says pop, languidly 
 dropping into his place and settling down for a com- 
 fortably chatty meal, in that exasperating style of his. 
 "Give us some coffee, my pretty! That's the girl! 
 Well, Bonnie, what on earth did you want to go and 
 make a show out of yourself for like that, last night?" 
 
 "Whatter you mean, pop?" I says. "I got a right 
 to go out with Bert and his friend if I want!"
 
 Laughter Limited 39 
 
 "Sure that part was all right," he agreed, swooping 
 down on a third egg. "Girls should have the boys 
 runnin' after them. It's only nature ! I mean all that 
 tearin' around on the stage, like you done!" 
 
 "That was supposed to be a movie, pop!" I says. 
 "I thought it was pretty good, myself, and so did 
 some other parties!" 
 
 "Stuff and nonsense !" says pop. "Keep your mind 
 on your cooking and it'll fetch you a better husband !" 
 
 "So you don't think I got any talent ?" I says. 
 
 "No talent at all!" he says cheerfully. "And why 
 would you? Not but that you're a good girl and a 
 fine daughter to me, Bonnie !" 
 
 "I'll say I am!" I remarked with spirit. "And as 
 for acting, I guess I got as good grounds for acting 
 as Pickford or anybody. I've got the wish to." 
 
 "There, now, don't get excited!" says pop, reprov- 
 ing me with his teaspoon. "Take your mind off such 
 nonsense when there is serious matters to discuss." 
 
 "What now?" I asked, real sharp. "Have you been 
 playing pool again? How much?" 
 
 "No, daughter dear!" says pop, flashing that win- 
 ning smile of his at me. Pop sure was a beauty, what 
 with his six feet of height, and if a trifle too heavy 
 now, his blond curly head and his smile, the both of 
 which I have inherited from him, could melt the heart 
 of a stone, or of a woman who considered he abused 
 her. Which is even more. 
 
 "It's not pool, Bonnie dear," he says. "It's the 
 mortgage on the shop itself I'm thinking of. It'll be 
 due in another two weeks and it's time to consider the
 
 40 Laughter Limited 
 
 matter of where will we get the money. Have you 
 thought?" 
 
 "I've thought of this, pop," I says "and not for 
 the first time, either that if you was to do a little 
 work we wouldn't be broke all the time!" 
 
 Pop's face fell. He pursed his lips and shook his 
 head sadly. 
 
 "I know it, Bonnie, I know it!" he said. "God 
 love ye, I'd like to make a lot of money and leave 
 you live like a lady. But where can I get the chance 
 in this forsaken town? And business all over the 
 country is terrible it's fierce! Why, only the other 
 day I was reading a piece " 
 
 "And only the other year you were telling me you 
 couldn't get work on account of the war!" I says. 
 "And next year it'll be impossible to find a job on 
 account of business being so good! Why don't you 
 show a little ambition? Do you expect to catch a 
 fortune just by sitting still and letting it mistake you 
 for bait?" 
 
 "Well, and what would you suggest, since you're 
 so smart, eh?" says pop, undisturbed. "Sure, I'll 
 act on anything you say !" 
 
 Well, I had to think hard for a minute or two be- 
 fore I could answer that, because this conversation 
 was one which we had not more than twice a month, 
 regular, and my stock of suggestions had run kind 
 of low. But I wouldn't let him stump me, not while 
 there was some ideas floating around in the world 
 free for anyone with a grain of sense to catch. 1 rat- 
 tled the dishes in the sink, hurrying to catch up with
 
 Laughter Limited 41 
 
 my work, and, as usual, doing the job on hand and 
 doing it good brought results in more than one way. 
 
 "I got an idea!" I says. "Do you know Jake John- 
 son, that Swede that's taken up the old Benson farm, 
 had to send all the way to New Haven for the tractor 
 he bought?" 
 
 "Well, what of that?" says pop. 
 
 "There isn't an agent on this territory," I says. 
 "And there's a chance to sell tractors here. Why don't 
 you jump in and get the agency before the boys at the 
 garage think of it?" 
 
 "That's a smart idea!" says pop brightly. "And 
 the work will just suit me. I know as much about 
 mechanics as the next feller, and I'm a fair salesman, 
 at that ! All I'd have to do is to talk 'em into buying, 
 and pocket the commission !" 
 
 "That's it !" I says, with the faint hope that always 
 would spring up in me every time we had a confer- 
 ence. "You could make a big success of it, pop. We'll 
 write to the New Haven agency to-night." 
 
 "We will that!" says pop. "And I ought easy to 
 sell one or two before old Bush well comes down on 
 us for his money !" 
 
 Then he shuffled off across the street to where Pike's 
 boy with his bicycle was already waiting for the 
 Clarions, and for a while I stood there looking after 
 pop, half mad and half tender. The handsome, lazy 
 hulk! I'd drive him to work yet! 
 
 He went into the ramshackle little old shed of a 
 store, Pike's boy following him, and I took off my 
 cap and wrapper, slipped into my one-piece model of
 
 42 Laughter Limited 
 
 black serge with the tassels that I had copied out of 
 one of the fashion magazines we carried on our news 
 stand, and then I done pop's round of the house up- 
 stairs, which I made every night and morning just to 
 be sure everything was O.K. 
 
 If I do say so, that house was kept in Ai condition. 
 Everything had been left just like it was when old 
 Mrs. Sherrill died, and it was furnished complete. 
 Out of the ark, I guess, for the stuff was not real old 
 antiques, which I like pretty well, especially the clean 
 new ones that they make nowadays. The Sherrill fur- 
 niture was mostly of a sort of Mumps design, the 
 plush being puffed way out in the wrong place like a 
 swelling, but intended to be like that; and the wood 
 was mostly black walnut carved with a crochet needle, 
 by the looks of it. Flowered carpets with flowers 
 bigger even than a Calif ornian could claim for his 
 native state was on the floor, and the one bathroom 
 was done in Early Tintype. 
 
 Just the same, the enormous rooms, with the heavy 
 window curtains, the thick carpets and the homely, 
 expensive furniture always give me a sort of thrill 
 when I walked through. When I was a kid I used to 
 think these was the most beautiful rooms in the world, 
 but that was before pop added Country Houses to the 
 magazines on our stand. And even yet I had a sort of 
 pleasure in the rooms because they always seemed like 
 they was haunted by Milton. I figured he must be a 
 pretty nice sort of bird to keep his mother's house that 
 way, and you could kind of feel that he thought about 
 the place often. I remembered the last time he was
 
 Laughter Limited 43 
 
 home, a grave, quiet sort of man, you couldn't tell how 
 old he was, standing there and telling pop how much 
 he liked the way the place was looked after, and pop 
 swelling out his shirt and accepting all the praise. 
 
 I, a kid of less than twelve years old, but the real 
 author of all this cleanness, had hid behind the door, 
 peeking at them and getting no more credit than a 
 picture actor out of work ! But I was trembling while 
 I listened to the owner, talking so grave, in a deep 
 voice like the lowest-toned bell in our chimes. I wor- 
 shiped Milton Sherrill, and why not? I didn't know 
 one thing about him. 
 
 This day, though, as I straightened out the candle- 
 sticks with the glass dingle-dangles on the parlor man- 
 tel and pulled the hand-painted window shades down 
 even, Mr. Sherrill seemed only a ghostly dream, and 
 instead of him I thought of the warm, real Stricky. 
 
 I held a long talk with Stricky, in my imagination, 
 pulling all the clever gags I hadn't thought of last 
 night while he was around, and walking with my re- 
 fined debutante droop, which I had forgotten to use. 
 And then I heard pop yell from across the street to 
 come and say how many coupons went with three 
 packages of Extra Cut Tobacco for Mr. Schoon- 
 macker. So I says "Pardon me, Stricky, old thing 
 don't forget the contract ta ta!" and slammed out 
 of the house and over to the store before pop could 
 ruin the first sale of the morning. 
 
 There isn't a child living but what has helped to 
 raise their parents; that's a fact. But probably few 
 have had more difficult ones than pop. Hardly had I
 
 44 Laughter Limited 
 
 got over to the store than pop discovered he had to go 
 down street. Well, he had to, I knew that. He was 
 obliged to go and hold up the left-hand side of the 
 post-office front door, because if he was to miss a 
 day after all these years very likely the building would 
 cave in. But I didn't say anything except all right, 
 and set to work unpacking a box of lollypops that had 
 just come, and arranging them like a bouquet in a 
 vase on the counter. And then all I had to do was 
 the accounts, the cleaning up, a little stock taking, and 
 I was free to sit down between the airtight stove and 
 the magazine stand, where I could toast my toes on the 
 one and reach the other easily, with all the time in the 
 world to read, and no interruptions except now and 
 then a customer. 
 
 When one came I would struggle to my feet and 
 make a big sale like a bag of tobacco or three one-cent 
 stamps. Usually we done at least a dollar's worth of 
 business before noon, but not always. And so I would 
 sit and reach for the magazines, one after another, 
 until what I didn't know about the real world, the 
 world that sets the standards, wasn't worth bothering 
 over. 
 
 Ain't it remarkable the educational influences we 
 got put up in magazine form? I never looked at the 
 cheap fiction stuff, hardly. I deliberately let it lie 
 while I pried off a lot of culture. I knew exactly 
 what was to be wore as quick as any New York City 
 girl did, and how the Vanderbilts looked on the Ave- 
 nue, and what breed of dog was all the rage. I was 
 familiar with the appearance of the special Booster
 
 Laughter Limited 45 
 
 Body Colby-Droit that had been built for the governor 
 of Howcome, China, and What the Well Dressed Man 
 is to Avoid. I knew about paneled drawing-rooms, 
 could recognize a Chinese rug on sight and was famil- 
 iar with the names of leading gift shops, tea rooms 
 and real-estate dealers all over the country; and if that 
 isn't the highest degree of modern American culture I 
 don't know what is. 
 
 This day, however, it was the moving-picture pa- 
 pers that got to me. I read them in a new light, and 
 figured how would I look among them myself. I got 
 to dreaming over them so deep that I was almost scared 
 to death when pop come in, banging the door and 
 wanting to know where was dinner. 
 
 That brought me down to earth all right. I flew 
 back to the house, and over the stove and the boiled 
 dinner which I had simmering on the back of it my 
 stock took a awful slump. This was brought about by 
 pop. During the meal he was just as cheerful and 
 charming as ever, but his first words, as I helped him 
 to cabbage, kind of took all the pep out of me.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 "T BEEN thinking over that tractor idea, Bonnie 
 
 * darlin'," he says, "and I'm afraid it is no good, 
 after all. Schoonmacker says he thinks I could get the 
 agency all right, but how about demonstrating the 
 blame thing? I'd have to be off in the backwoods 
 working one for the benefit of some farmer, and 
 strainin' me back or something, and then in the end 
 perhaps make no sale after all!" 
 
 "Well, you'd have to work for a sale of course!" 
 I says. "What do you expect?" 
 
 "Besides, I couldn't leave the store very well," pop 
 went on. "And it would tie me up badly, in case 
 something big turned up." 
 
 "I see!" I says, short. Not that I had honestly 
 thought pop would go through with the plan. "I see," 
 says I. "But how about the mortgage that's coming 
 due on the store?" 
 
 "Oh, that !" says pop airily, relieved at having made 
 another successful escape. "I made a mistake about 
 that!" 
 
 "How ?" says I breathlessly. 
 
 "It's due next week, not two weeks from now," 
 says pop. "I had the date wrong." 
 
 I laid down my knife at that. Believe me, I couldn't 
 eat another mouthful. 
 
 "Pop!" I says. "What on earth'll you do?" 
 
 46
 
 Laughter Limited 47 
 
 "Oh, old Bushwell will let it ride again for a while, 
 I dare say!" says pop cheerfully. "He's a decent old 
 feller!" 
 
 "No, he won't, pop!" I cried, real excited now. 
 "You know he said he'd foreclose, and I don't blame 
 him! He's had patience enough! You got an idea 
 that by laying down on folks you can just naturally 
 make them carry you ! But you'll do it once too often, 
 lemme tell you!" 
 
 "Sush, Bonnie dear, don't raise your voice," says 
 pop, with all the gentleness and patience in the world. 
 "Haven't I often told you a loud voice wasn't lady- 
 like?" 
 
 "I don't care!" I shouted angrily. "I'm no lady! 
 I'm a slave, that's what I am, and I'm fed up with 
 it! If you won't help me by going to work I won't 
 help you by working for you so there!" 
 
 "Sure, darling, and you know I'd work for you if 
 I could find anything to do," pop declared smoothly. 
 "Any one would think I had no affection for you at 
 all! And you the smart young girl that you are! 
 Why, who but a clever girl would of saved the money 
 you have, Bonnie? Eh?" 
 
 There was a little silence then. 
 
 "What money?" I says sullenly. 
 
 "Well, I know they paid you twenty-five dollars for 
 the photo you posed for Sweet-breath Tooth Paste," 
 says pop, counting on his fingers. "And then there's 
 the subscriptions you've been taking in for Tropics; 
 the commissions must be amounting to seventy-five 
 dollars by now. That's a hundred, and "
 
 48 Laughter Limited 
 
 "Hold on, pop!" I says fiercely, getting to my feet 
 and shoving back from the table while I glared at him 
 across that hateful soppy food. "Hold on that's my 
 money my very own. Don't you dast to think you 
 can touch it!" 
 
 "But, good heaven, child dear," says pop. "You 
 haven't spent it?" 
 
 "I have not, and I'm not going to!" I says. "I 
 give you my work in the store and run the house and 
 never get a cent for it, and if I do extra work outside, 
 that money is mine!" 
 
 "Come here, darling!" says pop. "Sure; of course 
 it's your own money ! Who would deny it ? But you 
 wouldn't let the little shop go? Where would we get 
 any living at all without it?" 
 
 I'll say pop had honey in his voice. Some said it 
 was the blarney stone, but here was one time when it 
 listened more like crushed gravel to me. Ordinarily 
 he could of wheedled me. He'd been all I had until 
 last night, and a woman has got to have some man 
 to make a fool of herself over, even if he is only a 
 kind of half-baked father. This was plainly my cue 
 to save the old home shop, rescue my dependent parent, 
 and play a heavy lead in my own home town. But 
 somehow the first move was never made. The director 
 had yelled "Lights! Camera! Shoot!" but the star 
 didn't come on. 
 
 Instead I just stood there quiet, pop with his arm 
 around my waist, smiling at me in that sure way of 
 his, and little knowing what was fermenting in my 
 bean. And as I looked at him it come over me abso-
 
 Laughter Limited 49 
 
 lutely clearly for the first time that pop was full of 
 health. He wasn't a day over forty-three, and not a 
 thing ailed him but the habit of refusing to do any- 
 thing for himself as long as there was anybody to 
 double for him. 
 
 And as I kept on staring I also all of a sudden saw 
 the reflection of a young woman a grown woman 
 in his eyes. It was myself of course. Something wild 
 and hot flamed up in me then, and no mother animal 
 ever defended her young like I did my savings. I 
 actually felt like I was hugging them to me and growl- 
 ing. If I give them up I was lost. Pop was cooing at 
 me again. 
 
 "Well, now when will you pay it off?" he was 
 saying. 
 
 I give him a straight look then, and came back at 
 him like a shot. 
 
 "Never!" I says. 
 
 Pop give a laugh and got to his feet. 
 
 "Yes, you will, Bonnie dearie," he says. "Why, 
 you wouldn't let us be ruined when you have the 
 money in hand!" 
 
 "Us !" I says. But he didn't seem to hear. 
 
 "Well, I've got to be going now," says he. "If you 
 need me for anything at the store I'll be down to the 
 poolroom until the 5.11 goes out, and I'll be at the 
 depot for that." 
 
 "All right, pop," I says listlessly, never moving until 
 he was gone. Then, disregarding the store entirely, 
 I sat down on the nearest place the edge of the table 
 it was and thought hard.
 
 50 Laughter Limited 
 
 Funny how money affects life, ain't it? Busts up 
 any kind of relationship that abuses it in any way. 
 Look at me and pop ! Or any friend you have loaned 
 it to ! The demand that I give pop my kale was what 
 finally opened my eyes to him. And one of the first 
 things I realized was that I had been kidding myself 
 about being good to him. I hadn't really been good 
 to pop. In making things easy for him I'd pretty near 
 made it impossible for him to help himself. If I was 
 to go away and leave him flat he'd have to work or 
 starve, and I knew how well he liked to eat none 
 better! I was all that stood between him and work, 
 and I was about to move. Where he'd land I didn't 
 know. I didn't honestly care just then, either. 
 
 When a person who isn't accustomed to handling 
 big decisions actually does make one it is a good idea 
 to act prompt, before something influences you against 
 your true instinctive judgment. I was going to Los 
 Angeles. That much had been decided before Stricky 
 saw me home last night. I was under age, and if pop 
 really wanted to he could take my money away from 
 me. The answer was to go at once. Of course on 
 the other hand I had not wanted to start until I had 
 my contract in hand. But what difference did that 
 really make? Stricky had said in front of Bert, that 
 he would give me one, and what did I care if he sent 
 it back home to me or if I signed in his office out 
 West? Either way would be just as good. 
 
 But if the truth is to be known, it wasn't any noble 
 motives about saving pop from himself or making a 
 fortune to restore our family to a position we never
 
 Laughter Limited 51 
 
 had that decided me to do like I did. It was sheer 
 terror that pop would get around me if he knew in 
 advance. I made up my mind he shouldn't know until 
 the last minute, when it would be too late. 
 
 My heart beat so hard it nearly smothered me, but 
 I slid off the table and stood firmly on my feet. I 
 would go to-day! On the 5.11. Instinctively I started 
 gathering up the dirty dishes, and then I put 'em 
 back cold, greasy food and all. 
 
 "Let him wash 'em!" I says aloud. "He's eaten 
 off them and gone free often enough !" Then I looked 
 at the clock and commenced some rapid planning. 
 
 It was after one already, but the bank would be 
 open until three. I grabbed up my coat, flopped poor 
 Milt over on his face, dug out my bank book like a 
 terrier looking for bones, and half an hour later I 
 was back with my money. 
 
 Alone in my disordered room I fussed about where 
 to hide it, trying each compartment of my purse, but 
 there was too much. Then I remembered something 
 I had read some place, and stuck the main roll into 
 my stocking. You see I was starting out right. Then 
 I commenced packing less important things, beginning 
 with the cabinet photo of Milton Sherrill and ending 
 with a handful of samples of toilet soap, cold cream 
 and tooth paste which had luckily come in the day 
 before. I didn't go near the store all afternoon, but 
 I heard the bell over there jangle a couple of times 
 as disgusted customers went away, and once I peeked 
 through the front window and seen Bert Green com- 
 ing away from there in a wild sort of manner, drop-
 
 52 Laughter Limited 
 
 ping the glasses off his nose as he run down the steps. 
 
 The sight of him reminded me that I wished I'd 
 of had time to get a set of pictures of myself from 
 him to take along as samples in case I needed them. 
 But it was too late to bother now. I decided, while 
 cramming my old spring suit into my second bag, that 
 as soon as I was in a position to I would show my 
 appreciation for all he had done in introducing me to 
 Strick and so forth, by sending on for Bert to come out 
 and be my camera man. Just now I couldn't even 
 stop to say good-by. It was almost dusk when I strug- 
 gled out into the street carrying my two heavy bags. 
 
 Night comes down awful early in Stonybrook after 
 November sets in, and a few lights was already lit 
 in the houses here and there, although it wasn't but 
 five minutes to five. The street was pretty well de- 
 serted, too, for the loafers was already gone down to 
 see the express come in, and pop was evidently an 
 early arrival, or so I could safely guess from the fact 
 that there was nobody up in Bill Kelly's pool palace 
 over the drug store, although the lights were lit there. 
 
 I was glad to have the street to myself because I 
 wasn't looking for any delay just then. And here is 
 where I missed my cue the second time in one day, 
 for instead of the tears running down my cheeks at 
 saying farewell to my home town, my heart aching at 
 the thought of leaving, and etcetera, my mind was 
 chiefly on would I make the train and was my nose 
 powdered right? 
 
 There was quite a crowd at the depot that night,
 
 Laughter Limited 53 
 
 and I could see pop looming up big among them out 
 on the front platform as I came in the back way and 
 bought me a ticket as far as New York, knowing that 
 to try for one the whole way to Los Angeles would 
 only cause delay, and the time was short. I had ex- 
 actly three minutes to wait after I stuck the ticket into 
 my purse and picked my bags up again. Then I caught 
 sight of Bert. He was fortunately busy over at the 
 express-office window, but he smiled and nodded as 
 he called out to me. 
 
 "Say, Bonnie, you look immense!" he says. "I'll 
 be with you in a minute!" 
 
 The train was roaring in by now, the sound of it 
 smothering everything else. I waited as long as I 
 dared to, and then, with just barely time to board it, I 
 hustled out on the platform, across the first line of 
 tracks, and threw my bags up on the platform of the 
 nearest car. A brakeman lifted me up after them, 
 and jumped on the steps himself, swinging his lan- 
 tern and calling 'Board !' in a loud voice. I looked 
 back over his shoulder, and it was then that pop caught 
 sight of me. 
 
 "Hey, Bonnie ! What are you up to ?" he shouted, 
 detaching himself from the group of bums against the 
 station wall and lumbering down the platform towards 
 me. 
 
 "Come out of that!" he yelled. "Where and the 
 devil do you think you are going?" 
 
 The train was moving by now. Oh, so awful 
 slowly !
 
 54 Laughter Limited 
 
 "I'm going away!" I says, sharp and clear. "I'm 
 fed up, and I'm going for good ! You'll never see me 
 again !" 
 
 "Stop that damn train!" pop shouted wrathfully. 
 "Stop it and come out of that, you young hussy, or I'll 
 beat the life out of you!" 
 
 Bert had heard the row by this time, and he, too, 
 started for the train. It was moving faster every sec- 
 ond, and he, pushing pop aside, had to run pantingly 
 alongside of it in order to speak to me. 
 
 "Bonnie !" he cried. "I tried three times this after- 
 noon to see you ! Where are you going, Bonnie ?" 
 
 Then his glasses fell off and his long hair blew back 
 and he sure did look funny and undignified. 
 
 "I'm going to Hollywood !" I shouted. "Look out, 
 Bert, you'll get hurt!" 
 
 "Hollywood!" he called, suddenly looking scared 
 to death almost. "Bonnie you must not go! What 
 I wanted to tell you was something about Greg Strick- 
 land!" 
 
 Then he collided with my father, who come running 
 up, and the last I saw of them they was both hurled 
 back upon the station platform as the train carried me 
 off into the night.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 T HAVE always claimed that nobody can get some- 
 - thing for nothing in this world, but a railroad's re- 
 ceiving money for the upper berth in a sleeping car 
 comes pretty close to that. Like a lot of folks who have 
 never traveled much I thought taking one would be a 
 economy. And maybe I did save, for I don't really 
 know how much should a person count as overhead, 
 meaning ruining my only good hat against the ceiling 
 through climbing up there with it on the first night out 
 of New York, and the engine being seized with a con- 
 vulsive fit of coughing immediately after. Or how 
 great an amount travelers are accustomed to charging 
 off to general wear and tear. And by wear I mean ac- 
 quiring a Jacob's ladder in my best silk stocking climb- 
 ing down the Pullman ladder, and tear being occasioned 
 when I saved myself from being flung bodily into the 
 Grand Canon of the Colored Porter by grabbing at a 
 real filet-lace blouse which had got hung on the hook by 
 the filet part. Well anyways, when I come to figure 
 it up, by saving twelve dollars on the berth I was out 
 about twenty-five in other matters. 
 
 The morning after my arrival in New York, it 
 sure was necessary for me to go easy with my cash, 
 for when I had bought my ticket to Los Angeles and 
 telegraphed Stricky not to send my contract East be- 
 cause I was on my way, my roll looked like it had 
 
 55
 
 56 Laughter Limited 
 
 been dieting. But I forgot all that when I walked 
 down the platform at the Grand Central Station and 
 saw the Wolverine actually waiting for me for me! 
 Sweet daddy, that was some sensation! 
 
 I was the first one in the car, but pretty soon people 
 commenced arriving, and I don't suppose there is any- 
 thing more interesting, hardly, than sizing up the ones 
 you are going to take a long train trip with, and dread- 
 ing which is going to share your section. I was all 
 keyed up for the worst, but hoping that if no one 
 showed for the lower, why maybe I could slip the 
 porter four bits and use it myself. Every time a 
 woman with a baby and six bags or so come in I 
 would have a nervous chill, because although fond of 
 children I felt I would be less so on a sleeper. But 
 nobody came anywheres near me, although many 
 passed by with looks which caused me to clutch at my 
 bags politely. The car grew hot and commenced to 
 smell of damp coats and raw apples. And then at the 
 very last moment two really snappy people come in, a 
 man and a girl. 
 
 The man, who was tall and good-looking and about 
 thirty-five in a fur-lined overcoat, took three real gen- 
 uine leather bags with him into the drawing-room. 
 Something about him caught my eye and held the same. 
 I felt I had seen him before, but I couldn't place where. 
 He had class, all right. Big time. A millionaire, that's 
 the way I had him figured, when he shut his drawing- 
 room door, and I realized that the girl, who I had at 
 first thought she was with him, was with me, instead. 
 
 She had stopped at my section, which was at once
 
 Laughter Limited 57 
 
 plainly more hers than mine, and stood there giving 
 my bags and me a rancid look the way a person does 
 when they breeze in and find that somebody else has 
 actually dared to buy the other ticket. 
 
 This girl was also a blonde a whiter one than me, 
 with bobbed hair, curled with an iron, light blue eyes 
 with beads on the white lashes, a black crepe dress 
 sloshing with steel beads, and a pair of stockings built 
 on the chicken principle. I mean chicken soup. You 
 know the kind where they pass a chicken through the 
 kitchen to flavor it? Well, a silkworm had give one 
 glance at her legs. Lord knows what she wore in 
 summer ! 
 
 "Boy!" says she to the porter. "Put my things 
 here ! I have the lower!" And she gave him a dollar. 
 A bean one entire rug for staggering in with a ten- 
 inch black leather dressing case, a box of candy and 
 seven magazines! 
 
 Well, that made me feel about like a second-hand 
 shrimp, and we didn't talk for a while after she had 
 sat down all over her seat, and the train at last begun 
 to move. You know the way it is. A person starts 
 on a long train journey with all the exclusiveness in 
 the world, and about the second day out they have all 
 the exclusiveness of the average sardine. But any- 
 ways, she and I looked quite a while before we spoke. 
 
 "Going far?" she says at last, smothering a yawn 
 with a copy of Closeups she had with her. I put my 
 own copy down, glad to be friendly, even if I could 
 feel her putting price tags on every stitch I wore while 
 she talked.
 
 58 Laughter Limited 
 
 "To California!" I says impressively. But I missed 
 fire. 
 
 "So am I," she says composedly. "Hollywood !" 
 
 I sat up in my backwards seat like a shot. 
 
 "So am I!" I echoed. "Are you in pictures?" 
 
 "Yes," says she. Then after a little pause, "In a 
 way," she added, looking me through and through, 
 kind of hard and cold. "What are you going out 
 there for?" 
 
 "I am going for the pictures too," I says. "I got 
 a contract with Silvermount." 
 
 All at once little Crystal Icicle's manner changed. 
 She smiled at me in the sweetest way, and even before 
 I could qualify my remark, which I hadn't really meant 
 it to be a lie, but it had just sprung spontaneously to 
 my lips the way those things will with strangers, she 
 leaned forward and put one hand on my knee. 
 
 "No !" she says. "Ain't that interesting ! I wonder 
 if you could help me to get in, dear?" 
 
 Whatter you know ! I was knocked so cold that I 
 just sat like a regular dumb-bell and let her gurgle on. 
 
 "You see, I'm not exactly in the pictures yet," she 
 explained. "But I've got no end of talent. Every- 
 body in our town thinks I have. So I decided to go 
 out to Los and take a chance. There's big money in 
 pictures, and lots of girls get it easy !" 
 
 "Yes, so I've heard !" I managed to get out, seeing 
 at the same time that the hat was probably home-made 
 after all. 
 
 "But I don't know a soul there," she went on. "I'm 
 going on a gamble, but I'm going to play for big
 
 Laughter Limited 59 
 
 things. If a girl has got lots of jazz to her, and ex- 
 pensive clothes, and spends freely, she ought to get by, 
 don't you think?" 
 
 "I can't think so quick as that!" I says. 
 
 "Well," says she, "I had over three hundred dollars 
 saved, so I spent sixty on this dress, bought my ticket, 
 and here I am !" 
 
 She laughed a little, nervously, crossed those gos- 
 samer legs of hers, and leaned back in her seat looking 
 like a million dollars, but actually less well off than 
 myself. 
 
 "So if you: know anybody with influence, honey," 
 she says, "I'd love an introduction." 
 
 Well, I suppose here is where I should of confessed 
 just exactly how things was. But I didn't. To begin 
 with, as I have since learned, there is something about 
 pictures which causes pretty nearly everybody who 
 touches them to exaggerate. I suppose because pic- 
 ture figures and facts are so big in reality that a person 
 gets subconsciously to feeling why not make 'em even 
 better? So I let sleeping dogs dream on. 
 
 "Well," I says casually, "I could introduce you to 
 the casting director at Silvermount." 
 
 "Say, you're a peach if you will!" says the girl. 
 "My name is Gertie Gross. Professional name, Anita 
 Lauber." 
 
 "I am Bonnie McFadden," I says. "Professional 
 name unknown !" 
 
 "Oh, no! Don't say that, Miss McFadden!" says 
 Anita so earnestly that honest, I just hated to disil- 
 lusion her.
 
 60 Laughter Limited 
 
 "But it is unknown," I insisted. "I'm only begin- 
 ning. To tell the whole truth this is my first contract." 
 
 I could see my stock fall a little then, but I knew 
 a casting director, and that was enough. 
 
 "Well, you're in luck to be going out on contract!" 
 says Miss Lauber. "Whereabouts do you come from, 
 dear?" 
 
 I told her. Well, I made it sound just a little better 
 than it was, perhaps. But any home seems that way, 
 once you are far enough off from it. 
 
 "That's funny !" says she. "We seem to be starting 
 out pretty near even. Both blondes and I'll say about 
 the same age, although I'm a little bit younger, maybe. 
 Both from small towns. My home is in Southington, 
 New Jersey. Mommer owns the bakery." 
 
 "What do you think is the best way to get by in 
 pictures?" I says. 
 
 "Pep!" she says promptly. "Pep, at any cost. And 
 get a few men to boost you. You know how it is with 
 a girl on her own. She's generally out of luck, don't 
 you think?" 
 
 "Not if she can deliver the goods," I says. "Ariy 
 more than a boy on his own." 
 
 "Well, here's hoping!" Miss Lauber says with a 
 laugh. "I intend to have a big time anyways !" 
 
 I didn't say nothing against that because what was 
 the use starting an argument with four days in the 
 same section still ahead of us ? I might have the upper 
 berth, but I had also intuition and tact, so I switched 
 the talk to exchanging opinions on well-known stars 
 and what was wrong with their work, and it's a pity
 
 Laughter Limited 61 
 
 they couldn't of been there so's to benefit by what we 
 said, for we was frank and merciless. Then we ate 
 together and after that we come back to our car, which 
 had become a swaying forest of green curtains. All 
 this time I hadn't even got one more look at the big 
 egg in the drawing-room but only a waiter coming out 
 of there with a pretty well wrecked tray. 
 
 "Did you notice him?" says Anita, for by now we 
 were of course on first-name terms. "The John in the 
 private room?" 
 
 "I'll say I did !" I says. "Pretty soft, traveling like 
 that!" 
 
 "We ought to make him," says Anita, "sometime 
 to-morrow !" 
 
 Well, I didn't reply to that, either, except to say 
 "Good-night" which she could take anyways she 
 wanted. I had even then discovered that a good way 
 to keep friends is to pass by a number of their re- 
 marks. I just climbed the stepladder, did a Houdini 
 out of my clothes, and lay down in a sudden awful 
 lonesomeness. I wanted pop and Ella and Bert and 
 everybody. I wondered if I wasn't maybe the biggest 
 darn fool that had ever run away from home. It 
 seemed to me that if I couldn't see the home folks that 
 minute I should die. And then all of a sudden I 
 remembered that I had one of them right with me, 
 and struggling up I reached for my bag at the foot of 
 the berth, drew out Milton Sherrill's photo, and 
 crawled back under the covers with it, holding it close 
 to me and feeling comforted right away. 
 
 I don't know if you know how it is, but every girl
 
 62 Laughter Limited 
 
 has a dream-ideal lover, and Milt was mine. He was 
 as real to me as anything. I had him a courteous 
 gallant gentleman, full of high ideals, chivalry, money 
 and love. To my mind he had everything but wings, 
 and as the matter was entirely in my own hands I had 
 give him golf clubs instead, because of preferring that 
 sort of man. This image which I had made of him 
 was what had kept me off the boys around Stony- 
 brook. They all seemed such clowns alongside of him 
 that I could not feel real interested in any of them. 
 So you can imagine that as soon as I had hold of 
 Milt's picture my heart eased up considerably. I even 
 went so far as to feel that he would O.K. my running 
 away from Stonybrook to become somebody big in the 
 world, for he had done it himself and would under- 
 stand. And thinking this I somehow went to sleep. 
 
 When I woke up early next morning I did so from 
 having made up my mind in advance that I would. 
 You see it come to me that it might be a good idea 
 to get ahead of the crowd and make a dash for the 
 washroom before anybody else got started. And I'll 
 say it turned out to be a good idea, too, because there 
 was only seven women there ahead of me. 
 
 When I was neat but not laundered, the way a per- 
 son traveling has to be, I was so hungry I just nat- 
 urally couldn't wait for Anita. Her curtains was still 
 closed, and so I beat it back to the diner alone, and the 
 captain led me to the only empty place in the car a 
 seat at a table where a man was already absorbing 
 cereal. 
 
 The waiter drew out the empty chair, shoved me
 
 Laughter Limited 63 
 
 into it quick, and give me a menu and pad like he was 
 handing out examination papers. I looked at the menu 
 first, and then I naturally looked up to see what the 
 man opposite me was eating, and then I got a shock, 
 because he was the one from the drawing-room in our 
 car, and soon as I saw him face to face I knew him. 
 It was Milton Sherrill.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 WELL, I suppose it's my cue to say at first I 
 couldn't believe it, but here's where I miss 
 again. I believed my eyes, and my memory, too, right 
 off the reel. His face was too familiar for there to be 
 the slightest chance of a mistake. Hadn't I been talk- 
 ing to him about all kinds of intimate things for years ? 
 Didn't he know every secret I had, and every ambi- 
 tion? Hadn't I been watching after his mother's 
 things for him and asking him every so often how 
 he'd like it done? I'll say I had! Why, I even 
 realized that deep down in me I had known him last 
 night when he stood in his drawing-room door, tip- 
 ping the porter. And there he was, after me knowing 
 him so well for such a long time, sitting opposite to 
 me, a perfect stranger! 
 
 I could tell from the way he looked up at me over 
 his oatmeal that he didn't have any idea who I was. 
 Of course that was natural, as he had never seen me 
 except when I was a little bit of a kid. But his eyes 
 were friendly. As a matter of fact I guess he seemed 
 stranger to me than I to him. Sweet daddy, it was 
 some shock! If a person has been dreaming of float- 
 ing on clouds and wakes up to a hair mattress, however 
 good, there is a big difference. He was Milton Sher- 
 rill, all right, but more as God had made him than 
 as I had. 
 
 Well, while I sat there like a dumb-bell Milt's ex- 
 
 64
 
 Laughter Limited 65 
 
 pression registered "Nice-looking-girl but I don't know 
 the child," and went back to the oats, because he was 
 no chicken hunter, anybody could see that; and no 
 fresh drummer, either, but a high-class wealthy citi- 
 zen, very dignified in made-to-order clothes. Hastily 
 I looked away and wrote "One boiled egg, glass of 
 milk" like I was sending a desperate telegram, and 
 the waiter snatched it and read it out in a loud voice 
 that mortified me, especially when he shouted "Ain't 
 you gwine ter have no bread?" and went away while 
 I wondered nervously what would I do. 
 
 Of course my dream had suffered, but still and all 
 I didn't want to lose Milt, or rather Mr. Sherrill, as 
 his actual presence instantly made him seem. If I 
 didn't speak soon my opening would maybe be gone. 
 So I decided to take a chance, and said "Ahem." But 
 Mr. Sherrill only turned his newspaper and coaxed 
 another spoonful behind it. I was desperate. 
 
 "Pardon me," I says at last, "are you Mr. Milton 
 Sherrill?" Of all the boob questions! 
 
 "What the I beg your pardon. Yes, I am !" 
 
 he answered, putting the paper down so prompt I 
 could tell he had been taking more notice of me than 
 I had give him credit for. 
 
 "I am Bonnie McFadden, Mr. Sherrill," I says, 
 and waited. He didn't get it. 
 
 "McFadden?" he says, polite and smiling, but 
 puzzled. 
 
 "Stonybrook," I says. 
 
 "Stonybrook ?" he repeated, a light breaking. "Why, 
 there's an old chap on my place, but "
 
 66 Laughter Limited 
 
 "Yeh, I know!" I said. "That's pop. I'm the 
 kid." 
 
 "How amazing!" he says. "And how delightful!" 
 
 Well, his smile sure was pleasant! And as I looked 
 at it I begun to feel like a quitter. For who would 
 take care of his mother's house, now that I was gone? 
 Gee, I hoped he'd fire pop if pop didn't brace up and 
 do the right thing. 
 
 "I know every inch of your home, you see !" I told 
 him. "I've dusted it often enough to, anyways!" 
 
 "You don't look it a particle!" he blurted out. "I 
 say, that wasn't an awfully tactful remark, was it? 
 But you've rather taken me off my feet!" 
 
 "How about me?" I says. "I'm a little jolted by 
 this meeting myself !" 
 
 "Where are you going?" was his next question. 
 
 I told him Los Angeles, and he frowned, looking 
 older. 
 
 "Are you a motion-picture actress?" he asked. 
 
 "Not yet," I said. "But I will be as soon as I get 
 there." 
 
 "Well, I suppose it is natural that you should 
 want to do it," he said. "But it seems a pity, 
 somehow." 
 
 "My stars, why?" I asked, my eyes popping open. 
 It would be awful if Mr. M. Sherrill turned out to be 
 a crab ! 
 
 "Oh, the life, and what not!" he says. "So arti- 
 ficial. You are obliged to do something for a living, 
 though, I suppose ?" 
 
 "Of course I am !" I says. "And I would anyhow !"
 
 Laughter Limited 67 
 
 Well, he approved of that, for he smiled again and 
 shot a keen, friendly look at me from under his heavy 
 brows. 
 
 "One does, these days !" he says. "I say, if you have 
 finished, shall we go back into the observation car? 
 I want to hear all about Stonybrook. I was disap- 
 pointed at not getting a chance to run out there this 
 trip. How did you leave your father?" 
 
 "Rather hastily," I says, getting up and following 
 him out. 
 
 And after we had bounced down a corridor or two 
 we came into the observation car, which was almost 
 empty, and took seats beside each other. 
 
 "Now tell me!" says Milton. 
 
 I took my mind off my disappointment in him for 
 having dared to grow so much older, and told him 
 everything, from how I had repainted the iron stags 
 last year, to how I loved the portrait of his mother 
 over the parlor mantel. I guess I must of spoke real 
 enthusiastic and earnest, and he got it. His face grew 
 younger and softer as he listened to me, putting in a 
 question now and then and the first thing you knew 
 he was all sort of warmed up. I commenced to think 
 he was pretty nice, though not the romantic style, of 
 course, like Stricky. 
 
 About an hour later Anita came tripping into the 
 observation car, looking for me or anybody. When 
 she saw Mr. Sherrill and I, she give all the signs 
 of having found what she was after, and only very 
 reluctantly backed off on my signal, which I had to 
 repeat several times. But finally she did go, making
 
 68 Laughter Limited 
 
 a face which said "Stingy" as plain as if she had 
 shouted it. 
 
 As for Mr. Sherrill, it just seemed as if he couldn't 
 get enough of my description and news and so forth. 
 But after a while he pulled out a thin gold watch 
 and got to his feet. 
 
 "My dear child, do you know that we shall be in 
 Chicago in twenty minutes ?" says he. "What line do 
 you go out on the Union? That's my way too. 
 But we don't leave until late this afternoon. Will 
 you let me take you to lunch somewhere?" 
 
 Would I? Sweet daddy! Would I like to walk 
 around with a million dollars! 
 
 "Why, yes, thanks," I says with one and one-half 
 ounces of hesitation. 
 
 Then I walked on air back to my section, where 
 Anita was putting the finishing touch to her lips, 
 through her veil. 
 
 "Well!" she says. "So you flagged him first, eh?" 
 
 "He's an old friend of pop's!" I snapped back in- 
 dignantly. 
 
 "That one came out of the ark," remarked Anita. 
 "Hustle now, dear; we are nearly in. You can tell 
 me all about it at lunch." 
 
 "No, I can't," I says. "I'm well, I'm lunching 
 with him, and he really is what I say." And then 
 the porter came looking for our tips and bags and 
 things. 
 
 I had dinner with him, too, that night on the lim- 
 ited, but I ducked breakfast next morning because I 
 was ashamed of his paying all those checks. However,
 
 Laughter Limited 69 
 
 he come and found me at lunch time and asked Anita 
 as well, and we ate it flying across the prairie, and 
 after that I give up all resistance and let him feed me. 
 My whole idea of America come to be Milton Sherrill 
 cornfields and corn flakes through Illinois; Milton 
 Sherrill roast lamb and roast beef through the sheep 
 and cattle country. And in between mealtimes, Milton 
 Sherrill and talk about everything under the sun 
 pretty nearly. Isn't it a fact a train can make you 
 acquainted quicker than almost any other place except 
 maybe jail? 
 
 On the second day out I again felt I had known 
 him as he was all my life. Things were either right 
 or wrong to Mr. Sherrill, and that was all there 
 was to it. About the pictures, especially. He didn't 
 like anything about the pictures, and he didn't care 
 for me going into them either. 
 
 "Look here, Miss McFadden!" he says over one 
 of our small coffees the third night out. "Look here, 
 Miss McFadden, I've only known you for a few days, 
 but I really am a friend, and I'm going to speak 
 accordingly. Why do you go into the moving-picture 
 game?" 
 
 "Why not ?" I says. "It's my ambition." 
 
 "Well, but look here!" he says. "Have you any 
 idea of the sort of thing you are going to run up 
 against ?" 
 
 "I've got an idea I can act, and that I can sell that 
 talent for a fair price," I says. "Outside of which 
 I guess I can take care of myself. Why do you pick 
 on the pictures so?"
 
 70 Laughter Limited 
 
 "Personally, I wouldn't touch them with a ten- 
 foot pole," says he. "I mean for myself, and I hope 
 none of my interests will ever become involved in 
 the industry!" 
 
 "But," I says, "if I get a good contract?" 
 
 "I don't know," said he, "except that the contract 
 may not be good. Look here, now ! Why run amuck 
 of that crowd? Why not forget pictures and come 
 to San Francisco instead, and work for me?" 
 
 "Why, Mr. Sherrill!" I says, and I'll say I really 
 was as surprised as I looked. "Why, Mr. Sherrill, how 
 do you know I would be any good?" 
 
 "Because it is my business to know people," he says 
 with a confident little smile, much as Stricky had 
 recommended his own judgment. "The head of a 
 great banking concern has to be a judge of human 
 nature, among other things, and I have seen enough 
 of you to know that you have exceptional ability. You 
 would need training, of course, but we can give you 
 that, and the chance to go as far as you prove able." 
 
 We sat quiet for a moment before I spoke. 
 
 "Oh, I couldn't!" I said then. "A bank! No, I'd 
 feel shut in smothered, somehow. Thanks just the 
 same, but I'll take my chance in the pictures." 
 
 "Well, I'm sorry!" says he. "But remember, my 
 offer stands if you should ever change your mind. 
 You have my address and you can come to us, at 
 any time." 
 
 The train slowed up at some tiny station high in 
 the Sierra Mountains, and we went and got our coats 
 and took a demi-tasse of a walk out in the clean sweet
 
 Laughter Limited 71 
 
 air under a cold moon, briskly up and down for ten 
 minutes. Arm in arm we tramped, swinging along 
 together, our feet beating out a sort of marching tune 
 as we went. We had done this at pretty near every 
 station where the train had stopped, the whole ways 
 across. 
 
 As you may of noticed, we was still on last names. 
 Of course I was hep to the fact he must like me pretty 
 well or he wouldn't of fed me so much. But he had 
 never stirred a finger or an eyelash that wasn't per- 
 fectly elegantly respectful. A new experience for me, 
 that was, because usually I have to christen them with 
 an ax about the third visit. So I was all the more 
 surprised when what happened, did. 
 
 We were walking, as I said, up and down the cin- 
 ders by the train, along with a few scattered other 
 passengers who had actually stayed up after nine 
 o'clock, and Milt hadn't said a word. The whole en- 
 tire U. S. A. seemed to be spread out under the moon 
 for us, the view was that big and grand, and conver- 
 sation doesn't flourish so well at such a time and 
 place. 
 
 Up at the darkest end of the train, which hap- 
 pened to be right at our own car lobby, he stopped. 
 
 "This is the last time I shall see you," he says. "I 
 am getting off at Reno on business. I got the wire 
 at dinner time." 
 
 "Oh !" I says sharply. "I will miss you !" 
 
 And then all of a sudden he kissed me; actually 
 took me fiercely in his arms and give me a long kiss 
 on the mouth.
 
 72 Laughter Limited 
 
 "You are the sweetest thing I have ever met!" he 
 said. "And some day I am going to tell you more 
 about it!" 
 
 I was absolutely surprised. Honest! I know that 
 there is an idea about girls that they can always tell 
 when a thing like that is coming, but that's only the 
 rule and this was the exception. I felt like the King 
 of England or the President or somebody equally un- 
 likely had kissed me. 
 
 Well, to save the situation, and before I could think 
 of any remark, for nothing came instinctive, the brake- 
 man yelled his warning, Mr. Sherrill swung me aboard 
 the train with a strong sweep of his arm, and we were 
 in the lobby. 
 
 That was no good, for Anita was there with a young 
 fellow she had made that day. And so Mr. Sherrill 
 and I said nothing excepting only a whispered "Good- 
 by" among the evergreen curtains, and he went off to 
 his luxurious bed while I climbed aloft and tried 
 to sleep. 
 
 I was so excited and upset for a long time while I 
 couldn't. But when I did drop off at last it was 
 Greg Strickland that I dreamed of. Ain't women the 
 pink limit, though? 
 
 And it was not until next morning when we was 
 rushing down through the colorful riot of California, 
 with its wonderful orchards, the scattered gold of its 
 poppies, and the flame of its scarlet geranium hedges, 
 all of which Anita and me was taking in with our 
 tongues hanging out, that I realized I hadn't given 
 Milton Sherrill any address.
 
 Laughter Limited 73 
 
 "What do you worry for?" she says. "Wire him 
 one." 
 
 "But I don't know where to say," I protested. 
 
 "Give him the Laurelwood Hotel," says Anita. 
 "That's the big-time place." 
 
 "A hotel like that," I says, "sounds away out of 
 my class." 
 
 "Don't be a dumb-bell!" says Anita. "Start out 
 big, and they will think more of you, honey! You 
 take it from me and go to the best place. Take a 
 suite. Put on a lot of dog, and the difference will 
 show in the contract they give you. What do you 
 think actorines wear big diamonds for, anyways?" 
 
 "For pleasure," says I meekly. 
 
 "For business !'' says Anita firmly. 
 
 And somehow Anita's judgment won out. After 
 all, my contract would call for not less than seventy- 
 five dollars a week ! And so next morning at the Los 
 Angeles depot, when the boy took my bags and says 
 "Where to?" I says "The Laurelwood Hotel," and 
 stepped gayly into his taxicab.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 TF SAINT PETER was to take advantage of a 
 ** time when God wasn't looking and start a thor- 
 oughly modern real-estate development in heaven it 
 would look like Southern California. 
 
 Anyways, that's how Los Angeles seemed to me 
 as I drove through it after vainly searching around 
 the depot for Anita, and she not showing up. So I 
 had to go without her, and pretty soon I forgot her 
 altogether. There was a new world opening up right 
 before my very eyes, and I was so afraid of missing 
 a trick that my head turned around like a put-and- 
 take top 
 
 Doubtless with all the blue laws going into effect 
 the way they are, the housing conditions in heaven 
 will need to be hastily increased, so maybe they 
 wouldn't stop Saint Peter on such a job as I have 
 described. But Los Angeles had evidently been 
 stopped in places, for there was great gaps of empty 
 lots scattered all through every district. But it seems 
 nothing stops that town for very long, and it just 
 naturally burst out again a few blocks farther on. 
 
 There was no end to the place, apparently, and 
 we rolled on and on over eleven miles of boulevard, 
 the driver steering with the little finger of his left 
 hand, his foot all the ways down on the gas, and 
 every other car on the road doing the same, but no- 
 
 74
 
 Laughter Limited 75 
 
 body hitting each other very often. I could see at 
 once why they made the streets so wide. It was on 
 account of the reckless drivers, and the size of the 
 machines. For it's a fact that practically all cars in 
 Southern California are out-sized just like the fruit 
 and flowers. 
 
 Well, after madly dashing past thousands of Italian 
 villas, Greek bungalows and apartment houses dis- 
 guised as colonial mansions or mission-style cottages 
 grouped around courtyards literally overflowing with 
 flowers and labeled El This or Del That some Span- 
 ish stuff, I guess it was the driver turned around 
 and yelled along the wind, "This is Hollywood we are 
 coming into now!" 
 
 I was glad he mentioned it because otherwise I 
 couldn't of told where Los Angeles ended and the 
 great movie center begun. There was the same gay 
 big-windowed shops, with apartments over them and 
 flower boxes blooming everywheres under bright awn- 
 ings ; the same rows of palmetto trees, the same phono- 
 graph shops, and gardens of petunias, fuchsia, roses, 
 buginvillaea, and every flower in the world, I guess. 
 There was the same extra-special brand of sunshine, 
 and the same general ice-cream strawberry-and- 
 vanilla-mixed effect. But not the same people. 
 
 All at once the streets held a higher per cent of 
 well-dressed folks. White flannels burst into view in 
 great numbers. Four times I thought I saw Wallace 
 Reid standing on a corner, and six times a head of 
 blond curls turned around and it wasn't Mary Pick- 
 ford. But I got considerable kick out of the thought
 
 76 Laughter Limited 
 
 that it might of been either or both, or would be, 
 next time. And then before I had time to run into 
 Charlie Chaplin or Tom Mix we drew up in front 
 of a summer hotel of a permanent winter type, with 
 a yard full of flowers and big cars, and a porch full 
 of hams. 
 
 A dozen pair of white flannels crossed themselves 
 the other way as I crossed the veranda headed for 
 the hotel entrance, and as many rocking-chairs come 
 to salute while assorted ladies gave me the double O. 
 All at once I felt with a uncomfortable sharpness 
 that while a self-made girl was all right, self-made 
 clothes are not so good. However, remembering that 
 my face, hair and ambition were the real thing, any- 
 ways, I took courage to march into the real genuine 
 solid light oak office and inquire about board. A 
 cheery, not to say sportsmanlike bird behind the desk 
 allowed me to finish my sentence before he sprung 
 the bad news. 
 
 "Forty-five to eighty-five dollars a week," he says, 
 his head on one side, his manner all sympathy like 
 a doctor that knew you couldn't last long. "American 
 plan only. That's all your meals, room and bath." 
 
 "I'll take the cheapest edition for the present," I 
 says, and he beckoned for a Jap boy which I had 
 thought at first was a Japanese soldier and was sort 
 of afraid of him, but not enough afraid as it turned 
 out, because he was what was worse, a bellhop. 
 
 "In the pictures?" says the clerk. "Just sign here, 
 please !" And he slipped me a pen, all politely dipped, 
 and the register. I took it, and then I had to hesitate
 
 Laughter Limited 77 
 
 because I realized I hadn't taken time coming out to 
 think up a good picture name. And now my mind 
 went perfectly blank on the subject and all I could think 
 of was Alia Nazimova, but I couldn't very well put 
 that down, so I had in desperation to write my own. 
 But I put New York after it, instead of Stonybrook. 
 That seemed safe, as New York is big enough so that 
 nobody from there would be likely to tell on me. I 
 give the clerical cutie back his pen and threw in a 
 smile for luck. 
 
 "Pictures?" I says, "Why, yes. I expect to go to 
 the Silvermount Super-Production Company." 
 
 "That so?" he remarked with professional interest. 
 "We get practically all the famous people here, sooner 
 or later! Boy! Show Miss McFadden up!" 
 
 His air had shown me up already, but I could 
 hardly expect him to fall dead at the honor of enter- 
 taining an almost-actress. So with my feelings per- 
 fectly healthy and intact, I followed the Jap private 
 up two flights of red-covered stairs, along a light cor- 
 ridor to a door which he opened and let me into a big 
 airy room with a little balcony outside, and a pal- 
 metto tree so close I could actually touch it! And 
 this balcony was my private one, and even more ex- 
 citing to me than my first private bath. 
 
 The room itself I didn't think much of, for it 
 was stripped right down to bare necessities. There 
 wasn't a thing in it, from the curly-maple bureau to 
 the iron bed, that could possibly of been spared and 
 let the hotel management get away with the rent. 
 Even the window curtains was the least possible, and
 
 78 Laughter Limited 
 
 not a picture was on the walls. It give the room an 
 awful bleak look, with no cheer at all, and at first I 
 thought how mean of the management, for isn't an 
 actor's life dreary enough without this? I didn't yet 
 realize that in the Laurelwood Hotel it is absolutely 
 necessary for the owner to make the rooms as near 
 as possible actor-proof. Otherwise there would be no 
 furniture left at the end of a season and it's cheaper 
 to let them bring in their own to break up when the 
 impulse overcomes them. 
 
 Well, I gave Japan two bits, and seeing my case 
 was hopeless he let me go at that, and when he had, I 
 shut the door after him, took off my hat and stepped 
 out into the sunshine on my little porch and let it beat 
 on my bare head the sun I mean and stood with 
 my elbows on the railing, looking down at the friendly, 
 smiling city. 
 
 What a place ! Everybody so snappy-looking. Far 
 more so on an average than New York, for a fact. 
 And everybody gay and in no hurry, yet just hurry 
 enough to seem pleasantly occupied. Jazz ? The very 
 air had jazz in it ! Even the trolley-car drivers jazzed 
 their gongs as they slid by on Hollywood Boulevard, 
 and the autos honked to syncopation. Three phono- 
 graphs was pouring the same jazz number out upon 
 the blue air, from different rooms near by, but each 
 with a different start, and the one nearest to me was 
 half a chorus ahead of the other two. I may remark 
 in passing that from that day to this I don't believe 
 I have been out of earshot of some new record at any 
 hour of the day or night, and I have never seen the
 
 Laughter Limited 79 
 
 coat of arms of the City of Hollywood, but I am willing 
 to bet it has got a phonograph rampant upon it. 
 
 Well, anyways, I stood there like a jazbo Juliet 
 upon my sleeping porch, enchanted by everything I saw 
 and heard, and wondering could it actually be me, and 
 quite seeing now what Stricky had meant when he says 
 there is no argument about which shall it be Cali- 
 fornia or Connecticut? A person couldn't help but 
 make good out here. Why, just to be in such a place 
 was inspiring. I felt like I belonged, all right! As 
 if I had been waiting to get out here ever since I had 
 been born, and didn't know it until now. I felt full 
 of pep and like tearing things wide open generally. 
 Sweet daddy ! Some fairyland ! 
 
 The first number on the program was of course to 
 get action from Stricky. So after I had torn myself 
 away from the balcony and put on a new layer of 
 make-up with extra-heavy beading on my eyes, and 
 using liquid face powder so as to look as professional 
 as possible and not to be taken for an amateur any 
 more than was absolutely necessary, I had still to 
 make up my mind regarding the best, most casual, yet 
 most interesting way of letting Stricky know I was 
 here, and where. 
 
 At first I thought I would telephone him and kid 
 him along by making him guess who it was, but then 
 decided that would be old stuff, and besides, sort of 
 small-town, and I dreaded to be recognized for what 
 I was. Then I thought I would drop into his office 
 and get some action direct, but dismissed the idea al- 
 most at once because it seemed too anxious. So in
 
 80 Laughter Limited 
 
 the end I wrote a formal little note and said "Dear 
 Strick, well I am here at last and will drop into your 
 office sometime to-morrow morning between ten and 
 ten-thirty." 
 
 I decided to just send it along and went downstairs 
 to do so by messenger. At the desk I asked for Anita, 
 but she wasn't there. Hadn't shown up at all. Well, 
 I thought that was funny, but after all none of my 
 affair unless she chose. So I just says "Oh, indeed?" 
 and after seeing my letter off, went out and parked 
 myself on the front porch, assuring myself that I had 
 as good a right to as any there, but not really believing 
 it. And hardly had I sat before I saw Adele. 
 
 No one who has ever seen mommer will be likely 
 to forget her, and if only she wouldn't mug so she 
 could of played mother parts to perfection, and only 
 think of the salaries they command now that mothers 
 have come into fashion on the silversheet ! But Adele 
 mugged. She even did it when not in front of the 
 camera; at least when she imagined somebody was 
 looking at her and saying what a sweet, motherly older 
 woman that is over there so aristocratic. Which they 
 frequently did. 
 
 The very minute I set eyes upon her I thought the 
 same. Her gray hair was dressed just beautiful 
 smart, but not girlish, you know. She had a proud 
 way with her head, too, and simply sweet black clothes. 
 Not dowdy, but typical of a refined, well-brought-up 
 mother's things, plus the inexpensive jewels suitable 
 for an oldish lady. She give me a little smile, or so 
 I imagined, but I sat off by myself instead of follow-
 
 Laughter Limited 81 
 
 ing it up, because I thought maybe she is Madame 
 Estancia the famous author of Still Weaker, who I see 
 in the papers was out there making her new pictures, 
 and I was afraid she would think me fresh. 
 
 Well, you know how lonesome a gay place can be 
 to one which isn't acquainted there, and all around me 
 the folks was rubbing it in. Big cars would fly up 
 to the door and dolls with basket lunches would dash 
 out of the hotel and into the cars and yell, "Are you 
 going to the beach?" but not to me. And handsome 
 actors with patent-leather hair and sports clothes de 
 luxe would bring their tennis rackets out and get some 
 healthy exercise nursing them in a big piazza chair, 
 and rock and talk for a while and look at me 
 hard and go away. And still I sat like a lost sheep, 
 beginning to feel I had been there about twenty years. 
 
 Another favorite form of outdoor sports seemed 
 to be getting weighed on the outdoor scales which was 
 parked on one end of the veranda, but this was a 
 form of solitaire, for they would sneak up one at a 
 time, slip a nickel or a penny, for both seemed to work 
 equally good, into the slot, and step on and step off 
 quick, as if they didn't like to be noticed. One boy 
 even put a button in. A thin, mother-of-pearl button 
 of a gent's underwear type, and I guess he hoped I 
 didn't see it, but wasn't sure. He looked so worried 
 over it that I got up and went indoors, desperately 
 hoping that the dining room would by now be open; 
 and mercifully it was. And even more mercifully, I 
 got put at the same table with Adele. 
 
 Well, from the beginning of our talk, over theAmeri-
 
 82 Laughter Limited 
 
 can plan, I could never of dreamed how important our 
 knowing each other was to be. Which is generally 
 the way big things start. 
 
 "In the pictures?" says Adele after asking me for 
 butter as an opening. 
 
 "I hope to be," says I. 
 
 "And what was the name, dear?" says she. I told 
 her, and Adele threw her rings into the air. 
 
 "My dear!" she says, horrified. "McFadden will 
 never do ! You will have to think up something much 
 better. Not that I blame you, because God does not 
 give everybody a stage name at birth. My own is De- 
 lane. Mrs. Adele Delane; and it's genuine." 
 
 I says how nice and so forth, and then Adele fired 
 another shot. 
 
 "Did you bring your mother with you, dear?" she 
 says. 
 
 "No," I says ; "I have no mother." 
 
 "I'm so sorry, honey," says she, real gently. "A 
 girl's best friend is her mother, especially in pictures, 
 as I used often to say to dear Ruby Rohmer, when I 
 was her mother." 
 
 "But aren't you that any more?" I says. "Did she 
 die?" 
 
 "No; Ruby married a millionaire and retired," says 
 Adele complacently. "It was largely due to me, too. 
 That shows the value of a mother ! And she naturally 
 didn't need me any longer. A mother may be useful, 
 dear, but what is thought of mothers-in-law is well 
 loiown." 
 
 "Oh !" says I, dazed, and not yet getting it.
 
 Laughter Limited 83 
 
 "Yes, indeed !" says Adele. "I know when to stop. 
 But a girl does need looking after. When I was Helen 
 Murrell's mother she always used to say that she never 
 would of succeeded like she did only for me." 
 
 "The great Helen Murrell!" I gasped. "She your 
 daughter, too?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed, until she married that banker from 
 Pittsburgh," says Adele, plucking at her salad with all 
 due modest pride. "I was Helen's mother; and before 
 that I was Lila Lavelle's." 
 
 Dumb-bell that I was, I just begun to get it then. 
 
 "Oh !" says I. "You mean you only pretended to be 
 their mother?" 
 
 "Well, a girl in this business really has to have one, 
 you see," she says. "And I certainly have done as well 
 by all six of mine as if they had been my own. Lila 
 married pretty good, too. Only she fell in love, and 
 while he's a handsome actor, he's a bad one. He give 
 her several expensive rings, but she'd never of got that 
 plain gold one only for him being mortally afraid of 
 me." 
 
 "But now," I says, "who is your daughter at 
 present ?" 
 
 "Oh, I'm on a vacation," says Adele. "I just natu- 
 rally got to have a rest from domesticity oncet in a 
 while, and I still got some money left from Ruby's 
 wedding present." 
 
 "Are you a widow?" I went on, for the old lady 
 begun to interest me deeply, and evidently personal 
 questions was in order. 
 
 "A widow!" exclaimed Adele. "Why, bless your
 
 84 Laughter Limited 
 
 heart, honey, I've never been married! Mrs. is only 
 my professional name, as you might say!" 
 
 "Well, it's a funny business !" I says, real interested. 
 
 "An important one!" says she quickly. "When a 
 star gets to a certain prominence she needs a back- 
 ground, and a lot of personal sentimental publicity can 
 be got out of home-and-mother stuff you know that ! 
 Why, even the male beauties ain't above it when the 
 publicity department runs a little short. But I never 
 was one that contented myself with being a mere figure- 
 head. I always looked after contracts and gave advice, 
 and the advice of one who's been in the theatrical world 
 all their life is neither to be pitied or scorned." 
 
 Well, I could believe that, and I had a feeling right 
 off the bat that she was the real thing, even if she did 
 have the most completely cuckoo way of earning a 
 living I had ever heard of. There was something 
 about Adele made you believe that her mothering was 
 done partially for the sheer love of it. As though she 
 was kind of trying to make up to herself for having 
 been cheated out of kids of her own by cruel fate or 
 something, and that she was really proud of those six 
 girls, and fond of them too. Later on she showed me 
 their pictures on her dresser, all with "To darling mom- 
 mer" written over their own signatures, and she was 
 as wistful about them as any genuine one could 
 of been. 
 
 But in the meanwhile we got real friendly and confi- 
 dential over our choice-of, and she told me who was 
 who in the American-plan, beginning with the beautiful 
 Madame Estancia in a far corner surrounded by young-
 
 Laughter Limited 85 
 
 admiring men, and ending with some of the old stand- 
 bys of the place, but never mentioning who was the very 
 classiest-looking male in the dining room, which was 
 the young man who had paid for his weight with the 
 button, but who sat there eating in such handsome 
 clothes, face, hair and general manner that you would 
 not of believed it possible, and left one only to the well- 
 known conclusion of how stingy the rich and famous 
 can be ! He certainly was handsome, and formal, and 
 looking over to our table a great deal. 
 
 "See that little couple over by the window?" says 
 Adele chattily. "Them are the Gosmers Lulu and 
 Paul that make the serials, you know. They live 
 here in the hotel. Sweet girl, and has a great future ! 
 Next to them is that man draws the animated cartoons 
 I can't think of his name. And beyond him the man 
 with the monocle? That's Lord Rexford, the famous 
 English writer. Yeh he's out here with Silvermount. 
 Writing continuity, I think." 
 
 Well, of course, Lord Rexford was a world-famous 
 novelist, so at first I thought Adele must be kidding. 
 But not at all, it really was him. I had yet to learn 
 that celebrities in Hollywood is as common as flies in 
 August, and if a native was to meet the Prince of 
 Wales on the street they would merely say "Hello, 
 how's tricks, Walesy? Working in the pictures?" and 
 then before he could answer they would go on to tell 
 him about the big offer they had just got from Muro, 
 but for only fifteen hundred a week, so they couldn't 
 afford to take it. 
 
 Well, anyways, I swallowed Lord Rexford after the
 
 86 Laughter Limited 
 
 second gulp, and then had another flock of the famous 
 called to my attention. 
 
 "See that tall man going out the doorway?" says 
 Adele. "That's John Austin Nickolls, the great di- 
 rector." 
 
 "Not the one that directs Trixie Trueman !" I says. 
 
 "Yes, dear, that's him," says Adele. "He has a 
 great future. He's with Silvermount and maybe you 
 will meet him. Trixie is married to Taylor Trueman, 
 you know. He's a wonderful actor but they say he's a 
 hop fiend. But I say one never knows, for you can 
 hear anything in Hollywood. You should of seen 
 Taylor playing the traps in the orchestra out to Sunset 
 Inn last night. You must go there next Wednesday. 
 Wednesday is movie night out there. And you must 
 come to the dance here to-night. Put en a pretty dress, 
 dear, and I wil introduce you to a lot of prominent 
 people. No, no pie, thanks! I lost two pounds last 
 week, thank goodness ! Did you lose any, dear ?" 
 
 "I don't know !" I says, sort of breathless. 
 
 "What!" shrieked Adele. "Don't you diet? Well, 
 you must, dear! Watch your weight every moment, 
 and don't put on a ounce if you can help. When I was 
 Lila's mother I always used to tell her 'Now, Lila, just 
 remember that slimness is the first requirement for 
 blue-sash parts.' ' 
 
 "But I don't need to lose !" I says. 
 
 "Well, you ought to diet just the same, to make 
 sure !" says Adele. "There goes Tiixie Trueman, now. 
 She's looking for Nickolls, I guess. She runs after 
 him like water off a duck's back. They say she's mad
 
 Laughter Limited 87 
 
 about him, but I say there's more evil to them that 
 thinks it!" 
 
 Well, I hardly heard the last of what Adele said, 
 because of staring at Trixie Trueman, who was out- 
 side at the desk talking to the clerk. For all the hard- 
 to-realize people, she was the hardest. To begin with 
 she didn't have on a scrap of make-up not a dash of 
 it, even ! Her clothes might of belonged to any school 
 girl; good, but in no ways loud or even very snappy. 
 Why, if I had seen her on the street I would not only 
 of not recognized her but would have actually taken 
 her for a lady! Quiet, refined, inconspicuous. That 
 was her all over! And a English accent I could get 
 even from where I was ! 
 
 "She don't look a bit professional," I says. 
 
 "No, but she has class, and they have just built a 
 handsome home out in Beverly Hills," says Adele. 
 "She's a wild woman, though. At least they say sp. 
 But I always say 'The less said the less you have to take 
 back.' " 
 
 We got up from the table after that and went out 
 into the lobby where the after-luncheon crowd was 
 hanging around. Miss Trueman had already gone 
 away, much to my disappointment, and so had her di- 
 rector. But my aristocratic button man was still hang- 
 ing around, and I was just about to ask Adele who was 
 that undoubtedly great actor, when another boy who 
 had been staring at me for the last half hour came up 
 to us with a great air of welcome. 
 
 "How are you, Mrs. Delane!" he says. "How's 
 tricks?"
 
 88 Laughter Limited 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Rolf !" says Adele. "They are just fine, 
 thanks. Meet Miss McFadden, Slim. Mr. Rolf is 
 publicity director with Muro," she added for my 
 benefit as I murmured the conventional "pleased-to- 
 meetcher." 
 
 "Doing anything this afternoon?" Mr. Rolf inquired. 
 "Won't you both come for a little ride ? I got the old 
 boat outside." 
 
 "Miss McFadden is just arrived out here, and she'd 
 love to go, I'm sure!" replied Adele for me, her mother 
 mind working automatically. "I believe I'll just go up 
 to my room and have a quiet afternoon with my news- 
 paper. I'm real interested in this Beverly murder, 
 aren't you? And there's a lovely new case of a girl 
 being missing, and that big hold-up on the Valley Road, 
 where three was killed. So I think I'll just spend a 
 restful hour reading. But you go along with Slim, 
 Bonnie dear! He lives right here in the house and 
 he's a real nice boy !" 
 
 Well, not being accustomed to mothers and their 
 methods, I was more or less knocked cold by this, but 
 submitted to be led away by Mr. Rolf to where his old 
 boat a miserable twin-six Colby-Droit of that year's 
 vintage, with only a hundred and forty-two inch wheel- 
 base and solid nickel disk wheels on it was moored to 
 the front porch. Sweet daddy! The world was cer- 
 tainly opening up for me !
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 " A DELE certainly is a great readef !" says Mr. Rolf 
 * *-as he helped me into the front seat. He took the 
 wheel and in this chariot of fire we slid smoothly 
 out into Hollywood Boulevard. "A very cultured 
 woman." 
 
 "Yes," says I, too dumb with all that was happening 
 to me to have any snappy small-talk. Staying in the 
 same hotel as English titles, great directors, in the 
 middle of a country like a stage set, and being at once 
 invited out by a publicity man in his own super twin- 
 six was pretty nearly more than I could endure with 
 grace. 
 
 "She's an old peach too!" Rolf went on. "The salt 
 of the earth, for all her affectations. Everybody who 
 knows Adele loves her." 
 
 "I think she is wonderful!" I says. "And so is this 
 heavenly town, and everybody is so kind to me. I feel 
 as if I'd just been elected." 
 
 "I hope it keeps that way for you, girlie!" says Rolf. 
 "How did you happen to come out?" 
 
 I told him then, as we slid along past beautiful 
 houses, with the dream hills looming behind them, 
 and the sky as crystal blue and cloudless as a great 
 bubble above all. I told him about Stricky and the con- 
 tract. Only I didn't say I had not actually got the 
 papers yet.
 
 90 Laughter Limited 
 
 "I know Stricky," he says when I was through. "Al- 
 though I haven't seen him for some time that's where 
 Wallace Reid lives, over there and I am glad you 
 have come out with a contract. Work is hard to get 
 right now. Things are pretty slow, or I wouldn't be 
 having an afternoon off. And so many girls land in 
 this burg with only a few dollars and not a friend in 
 the world. It's pathetic to see them storming the of- 
 fices. God knows how they exist. It fairly makes me 
 sick, sometimes. That's Bill Hart's house up on that 
 hill." 
 
 Well, I thought it sure was lucky about Stricky, and 
 then forgot it, because we were traveling through such 
 a strange and lovely open country by now, with straight 
 endless avenues of tall eucalyptus trees marking off a 
 broad valley like a chess-board, with oil wells for chess- 
 men springing up all over, the whole framed in by 
 great, rolling, treeless mountains. It seemed so funny 
 to see the oil wells right in between the best residence 
 districts. 
 
 "That's nothing out here!" says Mr. Rolf when I 
 remarked it. "People have often grown to be million- 
 aires right out of their back yard. Just pull up a couple 
 of orange trees, and zowie ! No more work for father. 
 And the devil of it is, you can't tell where they will 
 find it next. See that place with the tan-bark ring? 
 That's where Will Rogers lives." 
 
 We were in Beverly Hills now, a suburb of Los 
 Angeles, and dashing along toward the Pacific. I felt 
 actually bewildered, but happy the way a person is in 
 a dream. The air blowing in my face was sweet and
 
 Laughter Limited 91 
 
 dry and clear, but with strong pungent scents in it of 
 crude oil and burning eucalyptus leaves, and cedar- 
 wood fires. That country smells like no other place on 
 earth, I guess. And then the Pacific come into view 
 over the cliff edge at a perfect little city Santa 
 Monica. I saw that ocean first over the top of a flaming 
 hedge of red geraniums four feet tall; jade green, the 
 water was, honest, with bursts of foam flaring on the 
 tops of the waves like vast ruffles of white lace. The 
 picture postcards, even the colored ones, can't give you 
 any idea of it. Sweet daddy ! 
 
 Well, you can imagine I didn't care any more for 
 this trip than I did for my right arm! To begin with, 
 the gayest motor ride I had ever had before was once 
 when Bert Green took me up to Cedar Lodge back of 
 Stonybrook, in his flivver, and we each had a glass of 
 real beer up there on the sly. And here a snappy if 
 rather fat young man was whirling me around through 
 paradise in a nickel-plate gunboat the size of a whale. 
 
 Pretty soon my escort parked his boat on a sidehill 
 sloping to the beach, among about five or six hun- 
 dred others, and we got out and walked down to the 
 beach, which was so cluttered up with enormous gayly 
 striped canvas umbrellas that at first I couldn't really 
 see the contents of said beach. 
 
 Of course I am used to it now, but at first I was 
 actually ashamed to look, because them bathing girls 
 which you see in the movies is conservative beside the 
 ones you actually see at a California beach. And not 
 at the time having any theories about art in the ab- 
 straction, or the classic beauty of the human form, but
 
 92 Laughter Limited 
 
 only a strong New England prejudice in favor of 
 giving the garment industry fair play, the first sight 
 of the Santa Monica beach in full undress parade was 
 pretty near a haymaker to me. 
 
 Apparently the fact of people going in swimming so 
 very much in public in a personal sense meant nothing 
 in Mr. Rolf's life, however, and his calm indifference, 
 which was shown by the way he give a "Hello, Al," 
 or "How's tricks, Nellie?" here and there to the bath- 
 ers, proved to me that this wasn't one of them Sights 
 of Paris like I had at first supposed, but just the usual 
 thing. So I passed no remarks about it, and indeed I 
 would of been embarrassed to in any case, but just stood 
 beside him with burning cheeks and little dreaming how 
 matter-of-course all this would seem some day when I 
 had learned to swim and let swim. 
 
 Across the sands a short powerful-looking middle- 
 aged man in a striped suit caught sight of us. and come 
 over to where we stood on the edge of the walk. 
 
 "Howdy, Slim !" says this bird, looking at me with 
 considerable interest. 
 
 He had an awful hard face and a blond beard, and 
 somehow made me at once think of one of those an- 
 cient satyrs. But he was friends with Slim Rolf, that 
 was plain, when we was introduced. 
 
 "This is Jack Blum, the great playwright, Miss Mc- 
 Fadden," says Rolf. 
 
 "I'd like to write plays for you, dearie!" says Mr. 
 Blum. "I'll give you a part just before dinner to-night 
 anyhow, if you'll make this low-life bring you around 
 to my bungalow. I got a case of the real stuff this
 
 Laughter Limited 93 
 
 morning, and I'll cast you two to try it. How about 
 it, Slim? Drop around around six?" 
 
 "You said it!" exclaimed Mr. Rolf. "We'll be with 
 you!" 
 
 Well, Mr. Blum had two chickens with him. A thin 
 Leghorn of a blonde, and a cute little barred rock. At 
 least she was dark, and what little bathing suit she had 
 was barred. And if ever I saw girls cuckoo over a 
 man they were it over that man. And he the homeliest 
 ever, with his square shoulders and great trailing blond 
 beard ! 
 
 "Jackie shakes a wicked drink !" says the Leghorn. 
 "And we'll need it after our swim. See you later, 
 dear!" 
 
 And then the three of them dashed off for the water, 
 and Mr. Slim Rolf and me went over to a booth, and 
 he bought us a couple of hamburger specials, all pickles 
 and tomatoes and hot hamburger, and we ate them right 
 there along with a big bunch which was doing the same 
 and I commenced to feel chatty and at ease, it was all 
 so grand and intimate and informal and easy to break 
 into. My heart was fairly bursting with gratitude to 
 Stricky for getting me out there after all my wasted 
 years at home. I was afraid I would just about fall 
 upon his neck in his office to-morrow morning, and the 
 thought of that contract I would be signing at not less 
 than seventy- five a week or probably a hundred, or even 
 very likely a hundred and fifty, didn't dampen my 
 spirits any, either. 
 
 Then first thing I knew Mr. Blum and his poultry 
 was dressed beyond words and jumping into a huge
 
 94 Laughter Limited 
 
 yellow car that was parked a little way from ours, yell- 
 ing for us to come ahead. So we did, I at the crest of 
 the wave, so to speak, and with my only regret the fact 
 that I had caught sight of my distinguished button 
 actor on the beach. "But what of it?" I thought. "I 
 will undoubtedly meet him when I get into the most 
 exclusive circles." 
 
 Then Mr. Blum dashed off ahead, and we followed, 
 the strangely scented wind pressing upon my face once 
 more. 
 
 "Does everybody come down there to bathe?" I 
 asked Mr. Rolf. 
 
 "Sure all but the very big eggs," he says. "A lot 
 of them have their own swimming pools at their homes, 
 and stick around there and invite their friends." 
 
 "Oh !" says I, a little disappointed to think I would 
 not be likely to see them on the beach, but thinking, 
 "Well, some day I might be at such a home, who 
 knows ?" 
 
 Mr. Blum had one of the bungalows I had admired, 
 on a street right behind the hotel. A street fairly 
 smothered in pepper trees, which trees look like they 
 are made out of light-green feathers and coral beads. 
 Inside the cottage were Indian rugs and baskets, big 
 broad sofas, a phonograph going full blast, a huge 
 open fireplace full of eucalyptus leaves, and a big center 
 table full of liquor, glasses, ice and siphons. All 
 around it were people, gorgeous people. I wouldn't 
 of believed there was so many pretty girls in the 
 world as they was in that one room, and none of them 
 famous, either. The men was wonderful-looking too.
 
 Laughter Limited 95 
 
 It was Stricky repeated twenty times. And above all 
 was the fierce blond viking ruling the roost, with his 
 feet planted far apart like two solid columns, mixing 
 endless drinks and roaring jokes at the mob. 
 
 Somebody handed me a glass, a frosted glass like a 
 chalice on a long stem, and filled with something pink 
 and frothy, with a sprig of mint on the top of it. A 
 more innocent-looking portion of liquid I never set 
 eyes on, but when I drank it down it made me blink, 
 and only then I realized that I had taken a cocktail; 
 because of course the only cocktails I had ever seen 
 before was served in coffee cups up at that Cedar Inn 
 I was telling you about. But it done me a world of 
 good. I got chummy and talkative right away and 
 even called the Leghorn, dear. Then the Jap servant 
 brought another load of these around, and I would 
 of taken an encore only Mr. Rolf grabbed me by the 
 arm. 
 
 "Do you know those are absinth?" he says. "Come 
 on, we'd better be going." 
 
 Well, that second drink was, certainly, as he said, 
 absent as far as I was concerned, for I didn't get it. 
 But it was late by then and I was willing to go back to 
 the hotel, especially as it seemed the whole crowd was 
 coming there for dinner and the dance. So we slipped 
 out, Slim and I did because we was by then Slim and 
 Bonnie to each other and I fairly danced up the stairs 
 to my room and put in a careful hour's work framing 
 myself in a black satin evening gown which I had 
 copied off that French fellow, Callot Sceurs, who has 
 so many extreme models in the fashion papers. I did
 
 96 Laughter Limited 
 
 up my yellow curls like Pickford's, beaded my eyes 
 real black, and went down feling like the Queen of 
 Sheba with a mortgage on the world. 
 
 Adele was already at our table when I come in, and 
 she was dressed in a simple little effect of gray satin 
 and actually a cameo brooch and a taffeta bag full of 
 a sweater she was knitting. Not that I ever from that 
 day to this seen her knit so much as one single stitch, 
 because it was really only a prop, but a mighty effective 
 one. 
 
 "Did you have a nice time, honey?" says Adele as I 
 took my place. "My, but you look wonderful! Did 
 you make that dress yourself ? Never ! I don't believe 
 it! Well, it looks like there will be a big attendance 
 here to-night!" 
 
 And she said it. The big low-ceilinged room, bob- 
 bing with gay baskets of flowers on every table, was 
 crowded to the limit. Some of the tables had been set 
 together, and big parties was gathered around them, 
 many in evening clothes. The equal of that crowd for 
 looks most certainly don't exist any other place in the 
 world. I fell in love with at least six hams that eve- 
 ning. One right after another, including my distin- 
 guished-looking foreigner, who I finally met, and whose 
 name turned out to be Axel Something, I couldn't say 
 what, but who danced in English even if he couldn't 
 talk much in it. 
 
 The lobby had been cleared and a jazz orchestra was 
 telling the world from one corner of it. And when 
 Adele mothered me out of the dining room I come like 
 a brave soldier, all prepared for the worst, meaning
 
 Laughter Limited 97 
 
 that I would not know how to dance modern enough 
 for this crowd. But my fears was in vain, because 
 when Adele had caught me a partner and introduced 
 me by saying, "Oh, you must know my daughter 
 that is, Miss McFadden, Ed, dear !" and I and Ed had 
 started dancing, I discovered that camel-walking was 
 forbidden, and so was cheek-to-cheek stuff, and that the 
 dance was due to stop at 11.30 prompt! Say, if they 
 ever tried to pull that stuff at any dance back home in 
 Stonybrook, there would of been a riot ! But the wild 
 movie crowd never murmured, and I naturally got a 
 impression of great purity from all this. 
 
 Well, anyways, it was a pretty good night at that, 
 with the crowd shifting from hour to hour, and nearly 
 everybody that was ever on the screen showing for a 
 little while, and going on to some other place. After 
 11.30 it seemed perfectly natural to me to be sitting in 
 the room of some perfect stranger, with a big crowd all 
 whooping and singing, having drinks, and putting on a 
 new number and dancing until nearly two o'clock, then 
 the six of us going across the boulevard for a hot egg 
 sandwich at a place called John's. And after that I 
 crawled up to my room too excited to know I was tired, 
 and feeling I was on the big time for fair ! 
 
 But I wasn't to sleep, not yet. The lightly built 
 walls of the hotel let in all kinds of mysterious sounds. 
 It seemed as if the place never would grow really quiet. 
 And then, when the piano below me had at last left off, 
 and the drunks which had been kidding each other on 
 the corner for half an hour at length decided to call it 
 a night and go home, and I was just drowsing off
 
 98 Laughter Limited 
 
 amidst a wild, half -pleasant, half -terrify ing whirl of 
 thought in which Jack Blum and the Leghorn, Slim 
 Rolf and striped umbrellas, big automobiles, rushing 
 trains and crashing jade-green breakers was all mixed 
 up, I heard someone tapping softly at my door. 
 
 Sweet daddy, how my heart beat ! I was wide awake 
 in a second, sitting up in bed and listening with every 
 nerve. The tap come again, and I managed to choke 
 out a hoarse whisper. 
 
 "Who's there?" I says. 
 
 "It's me!" says a female voice. "I just wanted to 
 be sure you was all right, dear!" 
 
 It was Adele. I hopped out of bed and opened the 
 door for her, and she stepped softly inside, all kid 
 curlers and flannel wrapper. 
 
 "Of course I ain't your mother, honey," she says in 
 a whisper, "but I am interested, just the same. I 
 wanted to know you had come in." 
 
 "Say, you are a darling to!" I says, very touched 
 and comforted. 
 
 "Well, good night then!" says Adele. "And if you 
 don't mind me speaking of it, don't take a drink, honey. 
 Lay off that stuff, beginning right now. Don't touch 
 it ! This is a mighty rough town, dear, or so they say." 
 
 "I give my word of honor!" I says earnestly. 
 "You are dead right !" 
 
 "And if you ever need me just come right to me, 
 dear," says Adele. "I may be a mother by profession, 
 but I like my work. It won't cost you anything and I 
 have taken a fancy to you, honey !"
 
 Laughter Limited 99 
 
 Well, we kissed on that, and I went back to bed with 
 the one thing I needed a warm secure feeling that I 
 had a friend behind me and slept like a log. 
 
 Next morning I was up long before I needed to be, 
 and spent a long while getting dressed. The Silver- 
 mount concern was, of course, the biggest one on the 
 Coast, and going there to sign a contract was no light 
 matter. Also I had a double reason for wanting to 
 look good business, and Stricky, for I will say I was 
 pretty well stuck on him, and I was anxious he should 
 find me as good-looking as he remembered me, if not 
 better. I changed my mind about what hat would I 
 wear three times, and come back to the mirror three 
 times for a last dash of powder. But finally I was 
 all set and on my way. 
 
 The sun was shining again, in that bright, permanent 
 fashion it has out there, and I felt full of it as I 
 stepped into the boulevard, all pepped and prettied up. 
 
 While I walked down towards the Silvermount lot 
 I began turning over in my mind whether or not I 
 ought to sign up for as little as a hundred? You see 
 that had been Stricky' s own figure and it hadn't oc- 
 curred to me back East that I had maybe ought to ask 
 for more. But since arriving in Hollywood I had al- 
 ready heard so much about big salaries that I begun 
 to wonder would the Silvermount people think less of 
 me if I didn't show that I knew what salaries run to? 
 Why, even the Leghorn was drawing down two hun- 
 dred and fifty per, on her own confession! I decided, 
 however, that in the end it would be better to start
 
 100 Laughter Limited 
 
 modest and kind of feel things out a little before ask- 
 ing too big a price. 
 
 And by this time I was at the palatial front of the 
 Silvermount Studios, which occupied two entire blocks, 
 and was built in reproduction of our New England 
 Early cow-barn architecture. 
 
 Parked in front of the studio under the spreading 
 palmetto trees was hundreds of cars, and standing 
 around in front of these was about a hundred snappily 
 dressed people, all with make-up on. A couple of 
 cameramen climbed into a big bus and drove off amid 
 shoutings and cameras just as I come up, and then a 
 man in riding breeches and a flannel shirt and no tie, 
 but a wrist watch, came dashing out of a little side 
 door and everybody made way for him, and then I 
 saw Axel the Magnificent, my button hero and distin- 
 guished partner of the night before. 
 
 Well, he had on a high silk hat, and a flower in his 
 buttonhole, and believe me, he might of been John 
 Drew's younger brother, he was so full of dog ! I nat- 
 urally thought, "Well, I was always sure he was a big 
 man and I suppose this is his own company and it's a 
 shame to keep him standing around waiting that way," 
 when all at once the rough-looking bird in the corduroy 
 breeches and old flannel shirt, which I now, to my 
 amazement, recognized through his day's growth of 
 beard to be Nickolls, stood up on the seat of a car and 
 called out in a big voice. 
 
 "Hey ! Atmosphere for location on the Nickolls pic- 
 ture! Hey. you folks hustle now! Shove 'em into 
 the cars down there, Billy! Hurry now! What the
 
 Laughter Limited 101 
 
 hell's the matter, you big Swede ! Tell that Swede to 
 come along if he's going!" 
 
 And by the Swede he meant Axel the Magnificent! 
 I nearly died. Axel saw me, and had stopped to bow, 
 and this was what got him his bawling out. The poor 
 kid blushed a deep red as he was hustled off like so 
 much cattle, but I guess he didn't dare protest. An 
 extra ! Axel was an extra ! Sweet daddy ! 
 
 With a very Thank-heaven-I-am-not-as-they feeling, 
 I walked on to the main office, ashamed for Axel's 
 mortification, and also not a little ashamed for Silver- 
 mount's biggest director. As I mounted the steps I 
 decided I would speak to Stricky about what I had 
 seen. I felt he really ought to know. 
 
 Inside the luxurious reception room was a couple of 
 mourner's benches, at present unoccupied, and in one 
 wall a window like a box office, with bars in it besides, 
 to keep the wild hams out, and also a door leading into 
 the Great Beyond, which had a sign, Keep Out This 
 Means You, in the middle. Behind the cage sat a 
 harassed-looking young lady playing a little jazz on a 
 typewriter to pass the time away. I pulled out a card 
 and shoved it through. 
 
 "For who?" she says, picking it up with one hand, 
 but continuing to jazz with the other. 
 
 "I want to see the casting director, Mr. Gregory 
 Strickland, please !" I says. 
 
 "Huh! Lemme see I don't think he is here any 
 more," says she. 
 
 "But he must be. He's expecting me!" I cried. 
 
 "Well, I don't think he's here any more !" she per-
 
 102 Laughter Limited 
 
 sisted. Then she give a yell at some person that I 
 couldn't see. "Say, Mabel!" she says. "Strickland 
 ain't here any more, is he?" 
 
 "Naw !" said Mabel's voice. "He ain't been here for 
 the last six months." 
 
 "Know where he's workin'?" says the first young 
 lady, still to her friend. 
 
 "I don't think he is working!" says Mabel. "He got 
 fired from here and I think he went to New York." 
 
 "He's gone to New York," the girl in the window 
 explained to me as though I had been deaf. "He used 
 to be Mr. Nickoll's assistant, but he's not here now." 
 
 "But are you sure you got the right man ?" I gasped. 
 "I mean Mr. Strickland, the casting director !" 
 
 "Mr. Johnson," says the girl, giving my ignorance a 
 rancid look, "has been our casting director for the last 
 five years." 
 
 "Thank you !" I says, sort of weak and faint. Just 
 then Mabel's voice broke in again. 
 
 "I think Mr. Strickland is in town," she volunteered. 
 "I think I heard someone say they seen him, but I 
 don't know where." 
 
 "Thanks a lot," I says again, weaker and weaker. 
 And then, hardly knowing where I was going or why, 
 I turned and walked back out into the street.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 / ~T" V HE last thing anybody likes to admit is that they 
 -" are broke. And so when after my big disap- 
 pointment about my imaginary Silvermount contract 
 and Greg Strickland's equally imaginary casting-di- 
 rectorship, I trickled back to the hotel and told Adele, 
 I made no mention of how little money I had left. 
 
 "Well, it's a bad run of luck, Bonnie dear!" says 
 Adele when I had spilled my sorrows. "But cheer up, 
 you may fall into something better. That's the beauty 
 of pictures; you never can tell but that you will land 
 something really big next minute. Take my advice, 
 honey, and don't accept anything too small unless you 
 go broke. A bit is all right, but once an extra always 
 an extra, with very rare exceptions." 
 
 "A bit?" I says. 
 
 "Even a small bit," Adele explained. "A part where 
 you are a maid and hand a coat, or even are a dinner 
 guest at a table of twelve, say. That gives the pro- 
 ducer a chance to get a good look at you." 
 
 "I see!" says I. "But what's so wrong with play- 
 ing atmosphere ?" 
 
 "I don't know why," says Adele. "But everything 
 is wrong with it. Socially and every other way. A 
 big lot of clowns gets stuck there, for one thing." 
 
 Well, I could see her point and acted accordingly. 
 
 103
 
 104 Laughter Limited 
 
 With the result that when I paid my bill at the end of 
 a week, during which I had got acquainted with the 
 outside office of every casting director in the county, 
 and had written my signature in the books of every 
 agency, I had left the price of about ten days' board 
 and no further. Beyond was an aching void, as one 
 might say. And yet it was awful hard for me to rea- 
 lize poverty was actually so close. There was some- 
 thing about living in that atmosphere of hothouse suc- 
 cess which sapped a person's good sense away. Every- 
 body I met talked so big that honest, I felt, for no 
 genuine reason on earth, that if I took a big attitude 
 and demanded topside things, why I would succeed in 
 wringing them out of life. 
 
 Also the fact of there always being something doing 
 evenings kept up the illusion of success; immediate, 
 past or imminent. I was generally going to the Green 
 Mill or the Cinderella with Slim. And even sitting 
 around somebody's suite at the hotel, putting number 
 after number on the phonograph, or taking turns sing- 
 ing Absent to a mechanical piano with expression, 
 would wipe out the memory of plodding from studio 
 to studio all through the day. 
 
 Well, this Saturday afternoon that I am telling about, 
 I come in at the especially low hour of five o'clock, the 
 hour which the cocktail has made famous, but which 
 I refused to recognize in that connection no matter 
 how dog-tired I was. And as I sat on the edge of my 
 bed and counted my kale I come sharp up against the 
 fact that said bed would soon be taken from under me 
 if I didn't horn in on a job before next pay day.
 
 Laughter Limited 105 
 
 "Look here, B. McFadden, you poor dumb-bell," I 
 says to myself, "this can't go on. You better move 
 some place cheaper before the management offers to as- 
 sist you in the matter. You can still get your mail here, 
 so no address value will be lost anyways. And even 
 forty-five bucks will go four times further where things 
 is a quarter as dear !" 
 
 Well, I said this, but I'll admit that for once I 
 didn't like to hear myself talk. However, it was the 
 truth that things in pictures was awful slow just then, 
 and actually thousands of just as pretty, far more ex- 
 perienced girls than me was out of work at that very 
 minute. 
 
 Having at last come to my senses I also came to my 
 feet, meaning to go languidly down and drawl out to 
 the old sport at the desk that I was tired of hotel life 
 and had decided to find a cozy little place of my own. 
 But before I had got any further than my feet there 
 come a knock on my door, and who of all people would 
 it be but Anita Lauber ! 
 
 I hadn't seen her since we arrived in Los Angeles, 
 nor heard a word from her. But from the looks of 
 her she hadn't suffered much in the meantime. She 
 was dolled to the limit in new clothes, very snappy, 
 even though her wrap was a Ford model, and she was 
 close to smothered not alone with talcum powder but 
 excitement as well. 
 
 "Say, Bonnie !" she says, rushing right into the mid- 
 dle of her news without even saying how are you or 
 well here I am, or etc. "Say, Bonnie, don't tell me you 
 got a dinner date for to-night!"
 
 106 Laughter Limited 
 
 "I wish I had!" I says. "Does that remark of 
 yours indicate that we are probably going to eat?" 
 
 "Thank goodness you ain't dated," says Anita, "be- 
 cause I wouldn't have you miss this chance!" 
 
 "Here!" I says. "Come in and use up a chair. 
 Where have you been, and what chance is this that 
 you are boiling over?" 
 
 "You are not working, are you?" says Anita, throw- 
 ing herself into the overstuffed and taking out a little 
 silver case. "No? I thought not, dear! You see I 
 heard about your friend Strickland being out of Silver- 
 mount, and I knew the chances was that you hadn't 
 found anything yet" 
 
 "Who told you all this?" I asked her. 
 
 "My friend, Tom Wells," says she, "The boy I 
 met on the train remember ?" 
 
 "Yeh !" I says. "Anita, why didn't you come here 
 to the hotel like you said you were going to ?" 
 
 "I did intend to," she says, "but he asked me to 
 lunch. He's a continuity writer, a free lance for Muro. 
 And the minute he told me that I didn't hesitate to 
 grab the chance of knowing him better. Then after- 
 wards he says why don't I go to his mother's to board ? 
 So I'm there. I've been meaning to get over to see 
 you before this, honest I have. Then to-day the big 
 chance come up and I thought I'd let you in on it." 
 
 "Well shoot it," I says, "before you have me a 
 nervous wreck." 
 
 "Tom knows practically everybody in pictures," says 
 Anita enthusiastically. "And he's been promising all 
 along that he would get me in. Well, he was at Tom
 
 Laughter Limited 107 
 
 Muro's office this morning about a script, and Muro 
 says he's giving a party at his house out at the beach 
 to-night and why not come to dinner and bring a couple 
 of girls? And I like you, dearie, so I thought of you 
 first off." 
 
 Well, that was quite some slice of news. 
 
 "Say listen !" I says. "Do you mean to tell me that 
 the great T. H. Muro himself is asking two wrens 
 he has never seen out to his house to dinner? Sweet 
 daddy!" 
 
 "Why, they often do!" says Anita. "That's the 
 way they get hold of a lot of new faces, and many a 
 fat contract has come out of no more than that." 
 
 "But say, listen, Anita," I says. "Muro is a big 
 man, and neither I nor you are fools. When a man 
 of his class gives a party where he invites unknown 
 chickens, either he seriously does it to look 'em over, 
 which he could do better in his office, or else it is 
 going to be a stormy evening at the beach to-night, 
 in which case I believe I will stay as much at home 
 as a person can in a hotel." 
 
 "Well, Bonnie McFadden, of course if you want 
 to insinuate that I would go on any rough party I 
 can't help your evil mind," says Anita, getting to her 
 feet. "You don't understand how things are done in 
 pictures. And if you are going to throw down 
 the chance of actually meeting Tom Muro in his own 
 house, all I can say about it is that you got a perfect 
 right to be a poor but honest fool ! So long !" 
 
 "Here, hold on, Anita!" I says. "Don't go so fast. 
 Of course it would be wonderful to meet Muro, and
 
 108 Laughter Limited 
 
 it's the chance of a lifetime, for don't I know how 
 hard it is to get a bowing acquaintance with even his 
 office boy! And maybe I do him an injustice. After 
 all, he is a topside person, and very likely a good one." 
 
 "Now you're using sense !" says Anita, still fingering 
 her little silver box nervously. "Put on your snap- 
 piest evening dress and be all set by seven. Tommy 
 and me will drop around for you. So long, and here's 
 hoping we both get a job out of it!" 
 
 "Sweet daddy, wouldn't that be luck !" I says, kissing 
 her good-by. "Thank you, Anita, dear!" 
 
 When Anita was gone I thought, "Well, what a 
 mean crack it is to believe the worst of a person just 
 because they are a powerful producer and you happen 
 to be a good-looking girl." To which I also added 
 the fact that if any one back home had said to me 
 "A good friend of mine over to West Haven is giving 
 a bust and I can bring anybody I want to," why I 
 would not of thought it strange or even hesitated for 
 one minute. Besides all of which I had just forty- 
 five dollars cash money and absolutely no prospects, 
 and why be so unjust to Mr. Muro when I didn't even 
 know him yet? And a lot more self-kidding like that 
 for half an hour or more, until I had actually got 
 myself to a point where I pretty nearly believed T. H. 
 Muro was a kind, fatherly old boy who asked poor 
 friendless young motion-picture aspirins out to the 
 house so he and his wife could pick out the ones which 
 looked like they had the most talent.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 T say I almost had myself bluffed to that point of 
 * view, but not quite. Deep down in an unquench- 
 able corner of my heart a persistent voice kept telling 
 me that I was taking a chance and that I knew it. But 
 I kept that voice within bounds by arguing that this 
 was a modern day and age and nobody could afford 
 to be too big a prune. But I didn't go down and tell 
 Adele about my invitation as I ordinarily would of, 
 and dressed alone. 
 
 By the time I was dolled, my excitement and en- 
 thusiasm had grown up to a pretty high pitch. And 
 when Anita and her friend was announced, and I 
 come down through the lobby to meet them, I wanted 
 to shout that I was dining at the great Mr. Muro's 
 and wondered if maybe the fact didn't just naturally 
 show on me, anyways. I would not of been the least 
 surprised to see somebody point at me and say in a 
 loud whisper, "There goes one of Tom Muro's next 
 stars; she's dining with him to-night. She has a big 
 future, that girl has!" 
 
 Well, Anita's sweetie had a red tie to match his 
 hair, and also several drinks before meeting us. Going 
 out in his car which they all seemed to have one 
 even if it was only a B. C. model of some sort well, 
 anyways, going out he told us all about what was 
 
 109
 
 110 Laughter Limited 
 
 wrong with pictures and what vices who had, and 
 the real inside facts about the crooked way this person 
 got their contract, and anything else you choose. Be- 
 lieve me, that boy could peddle the why! 
 
 But I was hardly listening to him, because it always 
 made me kind of dreamy driving out to the beach at 
 nightfall with the lights in the houses climbing the 
 hills like lost fireflies, and that eternal perfume of oil 
 and burning cedar sort of intoxicating me. And if 
 it hadn't been for Stricky going back on me the way 
 he done, I would of been quite happy. 
 
 It's a funny thing, but whenever I was out with two 
 sweeties, such as Tommy and Anita, I always got to 
 dreaming of how I loved Stricky and encouraging a 
 lot of lonesomeness in myself the way the third party 
 is apt to in such a case. Sweet daddy! It is no easy 
 thing for a girl to sit in the tonneau of a big bus all 
 alone on a moonlight night and watch the silhouettes 
 of two good friends of either sex on the front seat, 
 even if one of them is driving. Only a person of great 
 strength of character like myself can resist taking on 
 something temporary when they are constantly exposed 
 to that sort of stuff. 
 
 Well, anyways Anita and this goof were particularly 
 bad specimens and my only comfort lay in the thought 
 that well anyways my hair would not be all mussed 
 up when we got to the party. 
 
 It was kind of a shock to me, though, when we 
 swung down off Ocean Boulevard in Santa Monica, 
 and stopped in front of a frame cottage that would 
 not of been really conspicuous back home at Stony-
 
 Laughter Limited 111 
 
 brook Beach. At first I thought there must be some 
 mistake and that we had not go there yet. 
 
 "Is this Muro's house?" I says, trying not to be 
 too disappointed, because I had naturally expected it 
 to be a palace. 
 
 "Sure it's his house !" says Tommy, helping me out. 
 "But not the one he lives in. He just has this one 
 for bathing and other parties." 
 
 Well, Muro's stock went up with me again, because 
 a three-story house is a big one to keep just as an 
 extra, so to speak, and once inside I got even more 
 impressed. There was two Jap butlers in sort of bum- 
 blebee costumes in the lower hallway, and a blast from 
 errant saxophones was shaking it up in the big shad- 
 owy room beyond. Not to mention the elegant big 
 bedroom upstairs into which Anita and I was shown, 
 there to lay our humble wraps down among a flock 
 of evening capes which looked like a bargain sale at 
 a brocade factory. 
 
 "Some bungalow!" Anita whispered to me. "Kid, 
 this is class; we are in on the real thing!" 
 
 "I'll say we are !" I says, taking in the painted fur- 
 niture, thick carpets and crowding females around the 
 long dressing mirrors. "I guess we must of been mis- 
 taken about being asked to dinner. Where on earth 
 could they feed this crowd unless at a buffet?" 
 
 "Oh, it's dinner, all right !" says Anita, finding park- 
 ing space for a little more rouge on her lips. "Noth- 
 ing small-time about Mr. Muro." 
 
 "You said it!" says one of the girls at the mirror, 
 in a silver-spangled dress which commenced way be-
 
 112 Laughter Limited 
 
 low the chin and forgot to go on below the knees. 
 "You said it! Tom certainly can peddle a party!" 
 
 Over to one side was a couple of girls which I rec- 
 ognized them at Kit Knute Divers, Betty Anders and 
 another whose name I didn't know, but I had often 
 seen both of them in comedies and bathing suits, and 
 now easily recognized them because of their being 
 practically dressed the same to-night. Also 'they was 
 talking together and this is what they says. 
 
 "Are you taking up golf, too, deah?" says Betty, 
 and the other come back with "Oh, my deah, I've 
 been at it for an age!" Then Betty says, " I*do hope 
 you won't think it odd, my coming here to-night with 
 Harry. His wife is ill, poor deah, and he simply in- 
 sisted! I'm uneasy about our being seen together, 
 though. You know how fearfully easily people talk!" 
 
 Well, I guess that super-Boston accent, coming from 
 the well-known divers, was even more of a jolt than 
 the inside of Muro's house had been. Then Anita was 
 all set and we drifted along downstairs. 
 
 During that first half hour of the evening I was 
 impressed by the air of refinement and the English 
 pronunciation on every hand. I felt like a mut, and 
 common as dirt. There was forty people at the party, 
 and nobody introduced anybody around. I didn't even 
 know which was Mr. Muro. Almost all of the girls 
 was in evening dress but none of the men, but yet it 
 was a brilliant scene, and everybody spoke whether 
 they knew each other or not. 
 
 After the bumblebee Jap butlers had buzzed around 
 with a flock of cocktails, but buzzed around me in
 
 Laughter Limited 113 
 
 vain, somebody threw open a double door like in a 
 drama, and there was a huge round table, and if you 
 have never seen a table set for forty people you can 
 guess my sensations, otherwise not. Especially when 
 I add that not alone was this table glistening with 
 glass and silver and the center of it heaped with scarlet 
 eucalyptus blossoms and white oleanders, but at each 
 and every place set a whole quart of champagne. I 
 felt an awful funny mixture of thrill, scare and pleas- 
 ure as a little short fellow which had been telling me 
 how good he was seized me by the arm and we went 
 in to that dining room, somewheres about the middle 
 of a long procession which was dancing to their meal, 
 the jazz band leading the way. 
 
 And that band never stopped the whole time we 
 ate, because in Hollywood it is a fixed custom that 
 you get either incessant phonograph or incessant jazz 
 band with every social gathering, and a mighty lucky 
 thing, too, because otherwise the folks might have to 
 talk. 
 
 Well, the little feller which had brought me in had 
 kind of run short on how good he was, and so com- 
 menced to vary the talk with how good I was. Ac- 
 cording to him I was some wren and too good to work 
 for my living. Also I soon found out his politics. 
 He was a Shin-Finder. 
 
 Well, of course, I wasn't going to stand for any 
 rough stuff like that and so I crossed mine the other 
 way on the far side of my chair and talked to the 
 partner on the other hand of me, who happened to 
 be Anita's Tommy, and would you believe it, he started
 
 114 Laughter Limited 
 
 a hot line at once, and there was Anita only three 
 places away! I tried to stall him off by asking who 
 was everybody, and it seems several of the big comedy 
 producers was there. As for the girls, they was mostly 
 D-minus leads or just girls. 
 
 Well, I don't like to say much bout any party to 
 which I have been a invited guest, but there are occa- 
 sions when this doesn't go, and Mr. Muro's party was 
 one of them. 
 
 Did you ever see an Early Roman fillum called Quo 
 Vadis? I don't mean one of these new importations; 
 I mean a very old one made in Italy about 30 A.D. ? 
 Well, it is a marvelous picture, for a costume piece, 
 and there is some pretty rough parties in it, but it got 
 by the censors, and this party I am telling you about 
 would not have. And yet there was some footage that 
 evening at Muro's which to this day stands out in my 
 mind like stills. 
 
 When dinner was half over, of the most beautiful 
 food I had ever seen in my life, the front door burst 
 open and in come Atlas Smith ; you know, the famous 
 strong man. And he was followed by a stormy crowd 
 of friends which had all of them invited theirselves 
 to this party of ours, and had already got thoroughly 
 wet before arriving. Well, the first still I am telling 
 about is of Atlas, he having broken up the party from 
 the table and by then nobody cared if they ate any 
 more or not. Well, Atlas, he started something with 
 Anita, and she pretended she didn't care for it and 
 lay down on the floor and commenced to holler. So 
 this big giant lifted her up on the palms of his hands
 
 Laughter Limited 115 
 
 and bumped her against the ceiling until she yelled 
 uncle. He did it with no more effort than if she had 
 been a paper doll, although he was very drunk, with 
 no collar on, and the muscles in his neck never even 
 strained. That is one of the stills I will never forget. 
 
 Another is of Betty, the girl which had been so re- 
 fined upstairs, her pretty accent all wilted, her face 
 misty with drink, and talking natural while holding 
 out her overflowing wineglass to me and bawling me 
 out because I was sober. 
 
 "Drink wish me, dearie," she yelled. "Shay you're 
 too dam' refined for thish party !" Which was checked 
 off to humor by the rest of the crowd. 
 
 Well, when we left the table I was in a sort of 
 daze, not knowing quite what to do. My brain actu- 
 ally couldn't take it all in. It was like a mask had 
 fallen off everybody there, leaving something fluid 
 exposed. I'm not trying to be funny by meaning the 
 liquor. I mean that when these folks forgot their 
 false fronts, which it's the truth we all present one 
 to the world, there didn't seem to be nothing left to 
 them but mush. They pawed anybody near. They 
 said things sweet daddy ! The room swam in a blue 
 haze of cigarette smoke and sound waves from the 
 saxophones, and for a moment it seemed to me that 
 the men and women's face floated in that curious sea, 
 half detached from their bodies like the bloated faces 
 of drowned people. It was a nasty thought, but hon- 
 est, that is the way it looked. I felt sick, and crawled 
 off behind a thick curtain in a bay window, but even 
 that curtain seemed heavy with strong perfume and
 
 116 Laughter Limited 
 
 tobacco smoke, and the damask felt slimy under my 
 hand as I clung to it, trying to think. And then a 
 pale face like a moon come around the corner after 
 me. It was the little man which had danced me in to 
 dinner, and his face was pasty white. 
 
 "I like you !" he says in a thick voice. "How would 
 you like to go to work to-morrow ? I will sign a con- 
 tract." 
 
 Then his wet paw reached out and lit on my bare 
 shoulder. 
 
 That was enough. Ordinarily I am no athlete, but 
 when a thing has got to be done, it can. I give that 
 clown one shove which sent him unexpectedly half 
 across the window into a big chair, where he sat stu- 
 pidly staring like a big Japanese doll which I had 
 thrown there. He didn't seem real. But I cut out, 
 for all of that. Somehow I stumbled and fought my 
 way across the floor, which was now crowded with 
 dancers, and up the dim stairway, disturbing a couple 
 who were mushing it up. Frantically I dug my coat 
 out of the pile and then down the stairs again, the 
 laughter and screams and jazz beating in my face like 
 a evil wind. At the front door a woman caught me 
 and called something aloud. It was Anita. 
 
 "You little fool !" she screamed angrily. "That was 
 Tommy Muro himself!" 
 
 "Well, I don't give a damn !" I shouted back. And 
 then I tore myself away from her and slammed out 
 into the cool dark street. 
 
 How long I ran and ran I hardly know. I wasn't 
 wearing any speedometer, so I can't be sure, but I'll
 
 Laughter Limited 117 
 
 say it seemed like a hundred miles. The part of the 
 beach that I was at is all built up into narrow streets, 
 mere alleys, a lot of them, and at night they are dark 
 like the Middle Ages. They twist and turn a lot too. 
 I would dart up one of them as far as it ran straight, 
 and then along the next one, and the next. Dim lights 
 twinkled here and there, and a strong salt wind brought 
 in the roar of the Pacific. Pretty soon the narrow, 
 stifling houses was behind me, and the big, clean 
 stretch of ocean was there on my left, under a white 
 moon. Ahead the lights of Venice, which is the Coney 
 Island of the Coast, winked and twinkled. 
 
 I was running along an immense boardwalk by then, 
 my high heels catching in the cracks, but not enough 
 to stop me. Where I was going I didn't know, except 
 that it was away. And then all of a sudden I couldn't 
 run any further. I was dog-tired, and seeing a bench 
 under a electric lamp I flopped on it and buried my 
 face in my hands and cried. 
 
 "That can't be the way you got to do it, Bonnie !" I 
 says. "Don't tell me different. I know in my heart. 
 If a person has the goods to deliver, some one will buy 
 them at a fair price, surely! I don't believe things 
 like that has to be done! I won't believe it. I'll get 
 in the pictures yet, and get in straight, so help me!" 
 
 Well, when I had said all that to myself I quit 
 crying and felt better, and commenced to wonder how 
 was I to get home, for the thought just come to me 
 that I didn't have a nickel with me even if the cars 
 was still running, nor have any idea how or where 
 was a taxi stand or a telephone. It was a distinctly
 
 1 18 Laughter Limited 
 
 poor situation all the ways around and I felt pretty 
 weak and miserable and helpless. Not even a cop 
 was anywheres in sight, and the only thing that moved 
 was a passing auto with a mushing couple in it. 
 
 Then along the boardwalk come a solitary figure 
 a young man walking briskly, whistling and swinging 
 a cane. I kind of shrank up close against the lamp by 
 instinct, hoping he wouldn't take any notice of me. 
 My head was down and at first he started to pass by. 
 Then he slowed up and come back, kneeling with one 
 knee on the other end of the bench and giving me a 
 light poke with his cane. 
 
 "Good evening, kid!" he says, and I looked up. 
 
 It was Stricky!
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 T?OR a moment he stared at me without actually 
 F knowing it was I, the way a person does who is 
 far from expecting to see you. Then it began to dawn 
 on him and he took off his hat. 
 
 "For the love of Mike !" he says. "Why, it's Bon- 
 nie!" 
 
 "Yes !" I says, getting to my feet and commencing 
 to shake all over like the last straw or something. 
 "Yes, it's me. And what are you going to do about 
 it?" 
 
 "Why whatever you like!" says he. "When did 
 you get here and why didn't you let me know you 
 were coming? And of all things, why are you sitting 
 alone out here in those clothes at this hour?" 
 
 "I did let you know!" I says. "To Silvermount 
 offices! And as for being here, I have just run away 
 from a party I didn't like !" 
 
 And then trembling got the better of me and like 
 a darn fool I sunk down on the bench and begun 
 to cry for all I was worth. 
 
 In an instant Stricky was beside me, putting a arm 
 around me and pulling me to him with a lot of there- 
 now-old-lady and get-hold-of-yourself-little-girl and 
 other such comforting remarks. And for a moment 
 just any old friendly shoulder felt so good to cry on 
 that I didn't have the courage to move away from 
 
 119
 
 120 Laughter Limited 
 
 it, nor want to either. After a minute or two I sat 
 up and dried my eyes and was thankful I had a com- 
 pact powder in my coat pocket, and a little self-control 
 back again. 
 
 "Here now! That's better!" says Stricky. "Say 
 listen ! You haven't a car anywheres around ? Well, 
 we'll walk up to Sunset and get one. And we can 
 talk things over." 
 
 I nodded, and we started for the top of the cliff. 
 
 "Well, I suppose you wrote to the Silvermount 
 offices?" says Stricky. "That's why I didn't get the 
 letter. You see I got out a little while ago. We 
 couldn't agree on my new contract, and I simply re- 
 fused to stay along on the old basis, so I got out. 
 And they have been beastly careless about forwarding 
 my mail." 
 
 "Oh!" I says faintly. "I came out here on your 
 word, you see! Where are you now?" 
 
 "Well, nowhere," says he. "But I have a big offer 
 that I'm considering. I haven't signed yet, but I ex- 
 pect that I will in a day or two. Now tell me about 
 yourself !" 
 
 "There isn't anything interesting," I says. "I'm not 
 working yet. But there is nothing original about that 
 in this town." 
 
 "Gee, that's a shame!" says Stricky with vigorous 
 annoyance. "When I sign up with Muro perhaps I 
 can do something for you." 
 
 "Muro!" I says, drawing away from the arm he 
 had through mine. "Muro! Oh! Not there!" 
 
 "Say listen! They are fine people!" says Stricky.
 
 Laughter Limited 121 
 
 "Tom's a great little feller. I'll introduce you to Tom, 
 and if you make a hit you can get anything you want 
 on the lot." 
 
 To me all this was like a sudden iceberg after a 
 friendly stove if you can see what I mean. I wanted 
 to think I had been wrong about Stricky and it seemed 
 like he wouldn't let me. 
 
 I says no again, getting more faint and remote by 
 the minute, and by this time we had come to Sunset 
 Inn, which is called that way because it don't start 
 until sunset and then tries to double for the sun all 
 night. It blazed with orange lights, and as we stopped 
 in front the orchestra broke out into a fresh effort. 
 From the row that it made I could easily imagine some 
 well-known star was playing the traps as per usual. 
 I don't believe I ever really hated jazz except at that 
 moment. Jazz has no business butting in on a person's 
 private troubles. 
 
 "Care to go in for a while?" says Stricky, jerking 
 his head towards the door. But I shook mine. 
 
 "I'd rather go home, please," I says. "The Laurel- 
 wood." 
 
 Stricky called a taxi, and under the strong light I 
 seen that he was just as swank as ever. Even the 
 way he stood had snap, and I couldn't help but feel 
 a kind of softness towards him, for it's the truth that 
 it takes an awful lot of proving to make any woman 
 believe a man with smooth hair and a perfect tie is 
 really a villain, especially when he is trying hard to 
 flag her. 
 
 When he helped me into the darkness of the taxi
 
 122 Laughter Limited 
 
 and got in beside me, settling down for the long drive 
 home, I softened even more, and little by little he got 
 out of me something of what had happened that eve- 
 ning, only of course I mentioned no names. A well- 
 known producer was all I says. And while I told 
 him, the light charm of this bird was actually so strong 
 that he had me forgetting how he had lied to me! 
 Then he started talking. 
 
 "Say listen!" he says, coolly lighting a cigarette 
 as if I had merely described Merry Christmas or 
 something. "A contract is a rare animal around here 
 this season I'll say it is! Why don't you take 
 him up?" 
 
 "Stricky !" I says. "No ! Not that from you !" 
 
 "But why not?" he persisted. "You want to be 
 a great actress. Well then, you got to live, to get all 
 kinds of experience or you'll never be worth a damn. 
 Take things as they come, and don't get in love or 
 marry. That's my motto!" 
 
 Now, I got a sort of hangover, I guess, from the 
 older generation. I couldn't see how a person would 
 be able to talk like that and actually mean it. There 
 was a horrible casualness about the tone in which 
 he spoke. If Stricky had been frankly vicious I would- 
 n't of minded half so much, because active viciousness 
 is a definite thing that a person can fight. It was his 
 taking the supreme important thing in life love in 
 the same tone as breakfast food, made me feel so bad. 
 And it was the third time in one night I had heard 
 that attitude expressed. Could it really be true that 
 I was the only one who thought decency worth having ?
 
 Laughter Limited 123 
 
 The idea come pretty near being intolerable. And 
 when Stricky, after saying what he had, went further 
 and apparently considered it would be a matter of 
 course to kiss me good night, I couldn't even speak to 
 him in protest. All I could do was to shove him 
 away and stumble blindly into the hotel. 
 
 If I had been one of these trained carrier pigeons 
 and A'dele's room the dovecot, or whatever they call 
 it, I couldn't of gone there any straighter or swifter 
 than I did. 
 
 Adele was in bed of course and also in full night 
 armor from chin strap to corn plasters, and to some 
 she might of looked funny, but to me she was beauti- 
 ful, for her arms went straight out to me and her eyes 
 shone with kindness from the middle of the cold 
 cream and everything the instant she caught sight of 
 my face. 
 
 "Oh, Adele you tell me it don't need to be true! 
 that I got to come across to get into the pictures!" 
 I wailed, throwing myself at her with more force than 
 compunction. "Say I don't need to stand for it. Say 
 I can make good by making good !" 
 
 "Honey !" she cried, folding her blessed arms around 
 me and understanding everything in a flash. "Of 
 course you can! There, there! Cry all you want, 
 dear. I understand, and I'd like to beat up the bunch 
 of crooks that you been out with, whoever they are !" 
 
 "Oh, Adele, Adele!" was all I could say. 
 
 "There now, I guess I'm wise!" says she. "I sup- 
 pose you are dead broke, dear, and that you went on 
 a job-party in despair and then found you was too
 
 124 Laughter Limited 
 
 decent to go through with it? I thought so. Well, 
 it won't lose you anything in the end, honey. Char- 
 acter is as much value to an actress as to anybody." 
 
 "But what'll I do?" I says, partially recovering. 
 "I'm stony. I can't get a opening. It seems like it's 
 absolutely hopeless." 
 
 "Well, tell me one thing, dear," says Adele. "Are 
 you absolutely convinced you can act? Or do you just 
 want a lot of easy money?" 
 
 "Everybody on earth wants a lot of easy money," 
 I says, "but only a fool expects to get it. No, Adele, 
 I want to act; I want to make good !" 
 
 "And what makes you think you can?" she says, 
 but very kindly. 
 
 "What makes a person believe religion?" I asked her 
 back. "You just know it's true that there is a God 
 and nothing can shake you. That's how I feel about 
 being able to act and to make good. It's the same as 
 my religion." 
 
 To my surprise Adele reached over and kissed me. 
 
 "There!" she says. "I knew it! They say the 
 broad and easy path is the one to travel in the movies, 
 but 7 always say there's too much traffic on it. Better 
 take the narrow one, dear, and I'll go with you." 
 
 "How?" says I, vaguely pleased, but not under- 
 standing. 
 
 "I'll tell you something," says she. "When I first 
 saw you I hoped you was a prospect. And I needed 
 one badly, for, honey, I'm about broke too !" 
 
 "You mean you thought I might hire you for my 
 mother?" I gasped.
 
 Laughter Limited 125 
 
 "Just that!" says Adele. "And when I found out 
 you was green and had no money, why I naturally 
 put the idea out of my head. But meanwhile I've got 
 to be real fond of you, and I'm going to help you 
 all I can! And the first thing we are going to do is 
 move out of this hotel into cheap but decent rooms with 
 privilege to use the kitchen range and washtubs." 
 
 "I'm for it!" says I. 
 
 "And you will take any extra stuff you can get," 
 she says. 
 
 "Fine!" says I. 
 
 "Furthermore, you need to change your last name," 
 says she. "And you can just simply take on mine. 
 Bonnie Delane. How does it listen?" 
 
 "It listens well," says I. "But not half as good as 
 living together with you does. I need you bad, Adele." 
 
 "Well, my first official act will be to send you 
 straight off to bed," says she. "And by the way, dear, 
 you better cut the Adele from now on. Call me 
 mommer !" 
 
 "Oh, mommer, you just bet I will, Adele!" says I.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 TN the house on Vine Street to where mommer 
 * and I moved, there was beds that flew up into the 
 wall if you didn't hold 'em down to the floor by main 
 force. Also we had an elegant bright green ingrow- 
 ing rug on our sitting-room floor, woodwork with a 
 mahogany-almost finish on it, and a landlady that 
 trusted us like we was burglars. 
 
 That was partly my fault, because when we first 
 looked at the place, I should of let mommer do all 
 the talking, instead of which I went and horned in. 
 For when we had seen that the rooms was as right 
 as we could expect for the money, Mrs. Snifter, the 
 landlady of the flat, come around to references with 
 all the delicacy of a pickax. 
 
 "Are you in pictures or are you working?" she 
 says suspiciously. 
 
 "In pictures," I says with great pride, thinking that 
 would settle everything. And it did, pretty nearly, 
 only not the way I had intended. For I seen at once 
 by Mrs. Snifter's face that it had not been a refer- 
 ence but a confession. 
 
 "Well, I don't know about letting these rooms go," 
 she says. "I had about promised them to a young 
 man who has a job with a business house." 
 
 "We will pay the usual two weeks in advance if 
 you wish," says mommer, giving that woman the 
 
 126
 
 Laughter Limited 127 
 
 scornful eyebrow in a manner I certainly did admire. 
 The landlady right away softened up a little and re- 
 marked well, she'd really rather have a couple of 
 .nice ladies and we could stay if we liked, so mommer 
 wrote out a check for the advance, Mrs. Snifter took 
 it and reluctantly left us alone in our new quarters, 
 and then mommer turned on me. 
 
 "Don't you know any better than to admit you are 
 in pictures to a native landlady ?" she demanded. "My 
 heavens, I thought we was going to lose the place! 
 Always leave them think at first that you are a East- 
 ern tourist or a Iowa farmer's family looking for a 
 permanent home, and you'll get treated right. There! 
 Don't take off your hat, child. I want you to take 
 this cash and run down to the bank with it before she 
 puts that check through." 
 
 "But for the love of Pete!" I says. "If you had 
 the cash with you why didn't you give it to her?" 
 
 "I like to keep my bank balance up as high as pos- 
 sible," says mommer seriously. "And I only had the 
 cash in case she refused to take the check." 
 
 Well, I went down to the bank like she asked, put- 
 ting in my half of the expense, too, and feeling more 
 hopeful of the future than I had at any time since I 
 arrived in the West. That I was actually more nearly 
 broke than ever before in my life did not seem to 
 matter at all, and that I was furthermore about to 
 demean myself by looking for atmosphere work now 
 appeared to me in the light of the right thing to do. 
 I wouldn't let it queer me. I'd be so darn good that 
 it would be impossible to overlook me, and some day
 
 128 Laughter Limited 
 
 the director would beckon and say, "Come here, little 
 girl, you with the blond curls I want to speak to you," 
 and that would be the beginning of my triumph. 
 
 Dreaming daydreams like that, Hollywood again be- 
 come a city of enchantment, and it's a true fact that 
 on one day in Hollywood you say of it, "I must get 
 out of this infernal place before it swamps all my 
 decent instincts," and then the next day something 
 nice happens to you and you say "Dear, gay Holly- 
 wood, how pretty, what fun we get here, I am going 
 to make a million dollars and never move away!" 
 
 This being one of the hurrah days, I was ready to 
 fall on the neck of the first person I met and would 
 of, only it happened to be Axel, and he was too tall 
 for it. But I was real cordial. 
 
 "Hello!" says he. "Ay see by tha doorbell you 
 bane living also in da same house!" 
 
 "Is that so?" says I. "How did you get by the 
 Delane?" 
 
 "Ay youst talk with your mother," he says sol- 
 emnly. And you certainly got to hand it to these 
 foreigners for having good manners. Think of the 
 kidding I would of got from any American on a thing 
 like that ! But from Axel's line you would of thought 
 she had been my mother the whole time. 
 
 "Say, Axel," I says, calling him that way partially 
 because instantaneous first names is a custom of the 
 country and partially because I couldn't pronounce his 
 last one "say, Axel," I says, "you've been working 
 for Silvermount, haven't you?" 
 
 He nodded, a slight blush showing that he appre-
 
 Laughter Limited 129 
 
 ciated my tact in not saying "doing atmosphere," the 
 same as I had appreciated his delicacy about mommer. 
 
 "Yes," he says. "Aye must get some experience." 
 
 "I wonder would you help me get in there?" I went 
 on with my best smile the one which has since brought 
 me in something over two million dollars. It worked, 
 even then. 
 
 "Aye be glad to try," he says. 
 
 And that was a lot for anybody to promise, because 
 every one for themself and never bring along a friend 
 that may take attention off you, is the motto of the 
 first-line trenches in the picture war. 
 
 "You see I feel like you do," says I; "that the ex- 
 perience will be valuable. Know the business from the 
 bottom up. That's my theory." 
 
 After which I explained laughingly that mommer 
 and I had got simply bored to death with hotel life. 
 We just positively could not even endure to enter a 
 restaurant any more, and that as a matter of fact we 
 were going to have a little snack at home this very 
 evening, and would love to have him join us. 
 
 Axel agreed that there was nothing like a little 
 place of your own. As for home cooking, he adored 
 it and would be tickled to eat with us. So he went 
 along with me to the delicatessen stall at the nearest 
 market, while I bought some cold ham and crackers 
 and a dish of crabflake salad with Pons Asinorum in 
 green peppers on the top of it, and a bottle of milk 
 and some fresh figs. And then we went back to the 
 flat, there to enjoy a typical Southern California home 
 supper, in a very friendly, chatty way. And as mom-
 
 130 Laughter Limited 
 
 mer said when Axel went off to his own room after 
 helping with the dishes, it certainly is a pleasure to 
 meet somebody who talks your own language even 
 if they can't do it in English. 
 
 The very next day Axel piloted me to the Silver- 
 mount. Not to the exclusive and exclusive is right 
 front door, up to which I had pranced so confidently 
 before, but to the side entrance, where I had seen him 
 coming out with the crowd for the Nickolls' location. 
 Axel went to a window half ways down a sort of tun- 
 nel, which led out onto the big lot itself, and spoke 
 to a harassed-looking man inside. 
 
 "Not to-day, not to-day!" says the man impatiently. 
 "Nothing doing ! Hold on, though. Renway is going 
 to do a big afternoon-reception sequence over on stage 
 four to-morrow morning. He is calling for a snappy 
 crowd. Bring her around for that if you like, and 
 remember on the set, made up and ready at nine 
 sharp!" 
 
 My heart was jazzing while I listened. 
 
 "There!" beamed Axel, coming back to me in tri- 
 umph. "Ain't we got fun? Youst svell afternoon 
 clothes and aye make up your face for you!" 
 
 Sweet daddy ! What a pipe it seemed. Ten dollars 
 a day for nothing! How it did pay to make friends. 
 I had got Axel a meal, which he had plainly needed, 
 and there he had at once gone and got me a job! 
 I could of hugged the great good-looking boob, and 
 together we just regularly danced home to tell the news 
 to mommer. 
 
 It was she made me up next morning, and not Axel,
 
 Laughter Limited 131 
 
 after all. When she had me finished, all the way from 
 grease to yellow powder, and shown me how to soak 
 my powder puff with cold cream and saturate the 
 powder onto that, I felt real professional. I hadn't 
 given away that up to that very minute I supposed 
 stage make-up and screen make-up was the same, and 
 would never have dreamed of putting red inside my 
 nostrils unless she had told me to. Well, when she 
 had done this she turned me around in my embroidered 
 suit and my small hat, a sort of worried pucker gather- 
 ing between her eyes. 
 
 "I hope it will get by," she says. "There, honey, 
 your face is O. K. anyways !" 
 
 And then she sent off Axel and me and started 
 washing up the dishes before we was fairly out of the 
 place like the genuinest mother that ever was. Half 
 an hour later I was back, alone, and crying on her 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Oh, honey!" says Adele, "was it your clothes? I 
 was afraid so ! I hate to tell you, honey, but I wouldn't 
 be your mommer if I didn't. Your street clothes is 
 something fierce! I thought it was a mob, but if I 
 had known it was a drawing-room I wouldn't of even 
 let you try. Now your black evening dress is fine! 
 A evening reception would of been O. K. or a ball- 
 room." 
 
 "He's a beast, that director!" I gasped. "No man- 
 ners ! Why, we was all set. He had called for lights, 
 even, when he saw me and says to his assistant not 
 even to me direct, mommer he says to his assistant 
 to take that little hick out of the set and send her
 
 132 Laughter Limited 
 
 home this was a swell affair and what the hell did 
 they mean by letting in people who didn't have a proper 
 wardrobe?" 
 
 "I know, honey!" says she. "But don't you fuss 
 any more. It can't be helped, although it's a disap- 
 pointment. In the old days they used to furnish a 
 wardrobe, but now they don't for anything except cos- 
 tume pieces." 
 
 "But I have no money to get a new suit or hat!" 
 I says. "My black evening dress will be a big help 
 if nobody gives a ball for the next couple of 
 weeks !" 
 
 And sweet daddy, didn't I say a mouthful in that 
 remark, though! Not only did nobody put on a ball- 
 room within my hearing, but not even a good big street 
 crowd that couldn't apparently be picked up free right 
 downtown in Los Angeles somewheres. 
 
 And then one solid month later Axel burst in with 
 the glorious news that the Artlife studio was going 
 to do a giant costume production with mob scenes in 
 it. He had been notified to come to work. 
 
 "And this time I ban going ta get you by, betchew 
 may life !" he says. 
 
 The next morning we was outside of the Artlife 
 gates early. But prompt as we was, three or four 
 had beaten us to it. As is the regular way with a 
 mob scene, the assistant directors had notified their 
 preferences, and put an ad in the papers as well. And 
 when an ad for extras appears in a Los Angeles news- 
 paper the result is much the same as if they was to 
 advertise free beer.
 
 Laughter Limited 133 
 
 Owing to Axel's advance information, however, this 
 howling mob accumulated behind instead of ahead of 
 us, and when at last the door opened, and we begun 
 to pour in past the assistant casting director, why Axel 
 simply says as we come abreast of this bird "Hello, 
 Bill, Aye brought may lady friend," and Bill give one 
 swift but sure look at me and hands me a slip for 
 my name and says the women's wardrobe is upstairs 
 to the right, and then he added the sweetest words 
 tongue or pen can say. 
 
 "You are hired," he says. 
 
 And like the lady who was sure of her husband's 
 love, I knew it before he spoke, but oh, sweet daddy, 
 how I did like to hear him say the words! 
 
 Well, the costume that they gave me made me look 
 fully two hundred years older. What I mean to say 
 is that it was with a hoop skirt and so forth and a 
 quilted petticoat and it was the first time in my life 
 I ever wore one. Also a little hat about as big as a 
 restaurant pancake, of straw and ribbons and flowers, 
 and it tied with long streamers under the back of 
 my curls. It seems I was a French Revolutionist or 
 something and the script was a melo called The Queen's 
 Necklace, By Alexander du Mas Pear. Well, I blessed 
 this Pear, whoever he was, for writing a scenario that 
 required crowds, especially when the girl who dressed 
 next to me at the long locker table says that the dope 
 was we would probably work for a week. 
 
 "Well, I only hope the company will last that long, 
 that's all," says this jane who told me. "I hear Benny 
 Silvermount is on the rocks."
 
 134 Laughter Limited 
 
 "What's that to us over here at Artlife?" says I, 
 patting on cream. 
 
 "Silvermount owns us," says she. "Every produc- 
 ing company out here owns the next one. That's why 
 it's so easy to get blacklisted. There ain't really much 
 beside Muro, The Divers and two or three little ones, 
 that Silvermount don't own. Muro is the only real 
 competitor they have." 
 
 "It would be fierce to get in wrong then," says I. 
 "They hand a grudge on down the line, I suppose?" 
 
 "You said it!" she replied. "There goes the bell 
 come along. We should worry, if we get our checks ! 
 For my part, it won't hurt my feelings any if they 
 work us overtime!" 
 
 Well, this set we went on was a beauty. As far as 
 I could make out it was the front of Paris in 1770 
 or thereabouts and it certainly looked exactly like it. 
 At least I couldn't of told it from the real thing. Alto- 
 gether the set covered four acres, and was composed 
 of streets and alleys and squares, bridges, churches and 
 a guillotine which I at first thought was a sort of cross 
 bar for taking exercise on until they told me that the 
 only thing supposed to get any exercise on it was a 
 person's neck. 
 
 Of course only the tenderloin side of the buildings 
 was built, and you know how they are without my 
 describing them ; nothing more back of them than most 
 oil stock. But what showed to the naked eye of the 
 camera was actually built, not just painted, and there 
 was real cobblestones on the streets with stage grass 
 growing between because it photographed better. And
 
 Laughter Limited 135 
 
 the part I was cast for was to loaf around these streets 
 with a couple of other girls, trying to vamp a bunch 
 of soldiers, among which was Axel. I suppose this 
 was in order to make it seem like a natural street 
 scene. 
 
 Well, really it was a beautiful sight with several 
 hundred costumed extras floating around and even be- 
 fore Major McGee, who was directing Taylor True- 
 man, Trixie's husband, in the piece, come out and called 
 things to order, the set give a fine illusion of reality. 
 Not even Axel showing a girl dressed like a antique 
 newsboy how to dance the camelwalk could destroy 
 it. And that first day of my work for the pictures 
 was one of the most beautiful and happy of my life. 
 
 At five o'clock one of the assistant directors yelled 
 the welcome "Everybody now on this set come back 
 at nine o'clock to-morrow! Nine o'clock to-morrow. 
 Please have your make-up on ; everybody now on this 
 set." And so forth several times over to be sure every- 
 body had heard it, but he need not of worried, for 
 they all heard the first time. 
 
 When I was dressed again Axel was waiting for me 
 at the foot of the stairs leading down from the big 
 barn of a women's dressing room. 
 
 "Come on, let's cash in," he says. "Aye want Aye 
 should buy you a dinner to-night at Frank's or some 
 place." 
 
 "Oh, fine!" says I. "Gee, but I am sick of eating 
 at home!" 
 
 Well, we laughed at that, but pretty soon it was 
 wiped from our faces by bucking a little group of
 
 136 Laughter Limited 
 
 angry hams that had been on the set with us, but 
 which was now standing around muttering to each 
 other. 
 
 "What's tha matter?" Axel says as we come up. 
 
 "Matter, hell !" says one. "They aren't giving any 
 checks to-night. Bill says they will work us until 
 Saturday night and pay off then. But damn it, will 
 they?" ' 
 
 "I've got a good mind not to pay any attention to 
 the call for to-morrow," says another. And then I 
 butted in. 
 
 "Why surely they wouldn't spend half a million 
 dollars on a set like that and then not pay us !" I says. 
 
 "Huh! Wouldn't they, just!" says the girl I have 
 mentioned before. 
 
 "How do they think we live in Los Angeles?" says 
 another. "On credit? Huh!" 
 
 "Well, never mind, it means a week's work," says I. 
 
 "Oh, I don't mean they won't pay," says my dress- 
 ing partner, "but they may hold us up. If they are 
 short of cash they will take it out of our hides. They 
 know we don't dare to holler. There are too many 
 more looking for our place." 
 
 "You been doing this long?" I says. 
 
 "Ten years!" she says bitterly, and walked away. 
 
 "Come along home," says Axel in a low voice. "Aye 
 don't like that woman. Did you see how she kept 
 tryin' to squeeze may out of the camera all afternoon? 
 Every time we come in front of tha camera in tha 
 marching scene, she turn her head, so that Aye betchew
 
 Laughter Limited 137 
 
 may life, may face is entirely hidden by her hat and 
 she gets a full close-up flash !" 
 
 "Oh, no, Axel!" I says. "How mean!" 
 
 "Youst vait until you see da picture," says Axel 
 gloomily. "And dan you see!" 
 
 The next two days were still like heaven to me, 
 even though Major McGee commenced to work us 
 nights as well, and we would not get off the lot until 
 midnight or later. The major was one of these tem- 
 peramental directors that work by fits and starts, and 
 everybody including himself, I guess, had to suffer for 
 it. Besides which he was under the extra difficulty 
 of his star being wet almost always. We would often 
 wait for a hour or two at a time, hanging around 
 doing nothing, while they was trying to get Trueman 
 sober enough to go on working, or wet enough to be 
 willing to work, according to whichever the case might 
 be. 
 
 Well, anyways, hanging around on a set or a loca- 
 tion by the hour was no hardship to many of us, pro- 
 vided we eventually got paid for it. But I was intent 
 on drawing down a little something besides pay if that 
 was going to be possible. I wanted to act, and acted 
 as hard as ever I could while the acting was going, 
 hoping all the time the major would take notice of 
 me. I never took my eyes off him when he was around, 
 trying to sort of hypnotize him into paying me some 
 especial attention, but it was all no good until the 
 day I run into Anita Lauber on my way to work.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 IT happened for some reason that Axel wasn't with 
 me, and I was walking along the boulevard alone 
 when I heard Anita's voice calling. I turned around 
 in my tracks, and there slowing up at the curb was a 
 baby-blue automobile as big as a bungalow with solid 
 nickel wheels, a colored chauffeur, and Anita seated 
 alone in the tonneau. 
 
 "Hello, Bonnie !" she says. "Hop in the boat, honey, 
 and let me drop you where you are going. Hurry, 
 dear, I got a call for nine o'clock." 
 
 "So have I," I says a little coldly, but getting in 
 with her just the same. "At Artlife!" 
 
 "Stop at the Artlife studios, James," says Anita to 
 the driver. Then she turned to me. "So glad you 
 are working, dear," she says. "I was afraid after 
 that night out at the beach you would be in thoroughly 
 wrong !" 
 
 "Oh, no!" says I. "It didn't hurt me any, I guess \ 
 Where is your call, Anita?" 
 
 "Why, I'm with Muro!" says Anita, opening her 
 pale eyes very wide. "Didn't you know?" 
 
 "Not me," says I. "Whose boat is this?" 
 
 "It's mine," she says. "Pretty poor, eh? I'm get- 
 ting three hundred a week and I expect to get seven 
 when this contract runs out." 
 
 "Good Lord !" was the best I could think of to say. 
 
 138
 
 Laughter Limited 139 
 
 Suddenly Anita dropped the little silver box she 
 was carrying the same one she had unconsciously 
 taken out of her purse before on the day of that 
 party, when she talked to me about going. Well, she 
 dropped it anyways and seized hold of my hands in- 
 stead. 
 
 "Don't be sore at me, Bonnie," she says. "I like 
 you better than any girl I know. I'm having a a 
 wonderful time and and we each got to live our life 
 and get our jobs in our own way. But please be 
 friends with me! I want you to be friends." 
 
 "Oh, Anita!" I says. "Don't say it in a tone like 
 that. It ain't fair. Somehow you make me feel so 
 sorry for you! But asking me to be won't let you 
 out of your responsibility to yourself. I'll be friends 
 of course." 
 
 "This car," she says eagerly, as if justifying herself 
 for something I had not accused her of "I have 
 bought it on time. I will pay for it out of my salary 
 on installments." 
 
 "Oh, Anita!" I says, which may look like a limited 
 expression but don't necessarily sound flat when you 
 come to say it. And then we was at my studio. 
 
 "Where are you living?" she says. "I want to come 
 and see you if you don't mind." 
 
 I told her the address, and said yes, do come, be- 
 cause that seemed the only thing I could do. And then 
 I stood and watched the beautiful big blue car drive 
 away, and laughed at myself to think I had anything 
 to offer to its near-owner! I felt sick and puzzled 
 and worried again, the way a person always does when
 
 140 Laughter Limited 
 
 they run smack up against that sort of thing in this 
 man's business. But I didn't look after Anita long. 
 Pretty soon I give myself a good shake and says 
 "Here, B. McFadden, you poor dumb-bell, you are 
 in the pictures yourself, and ten a day is sixty a week 
 and overtime every night is one hundred and twenty 
 iron men. What are you kicking about?" And then 
 after that I come down to earth and the long crowded 
 dressing room, hurried on my make-up and costume 
 and went out on the set. 
 
 But meeting Anita that way give me a depression 
 that kept hanging over me. I got so absorbed in the 
 lowdown I hardly knew what I was doing on the lot 
 that morning and when after lunch we was held up 
 while a party of visitors went over the set I at first paid 
 no attention to them. 
 
 I ordinarily would of done so, however, because visi- 
 tors on a set where someone is working is absolutely 
 against the laws of any self-respecting studio and never 
 allowed unless they are the Elks or new capital or 
 something. I was leaning against a cafe which is an- 
 tique French for saloon, because this picture was writ- 
 ten before prohibition, and listening in a dumb sort of 
 way to Axel telling me how Silvermount was on the 
 rocks financially, which was by now stale to me. I 
 was more absorbed in saying to myself "I hate the pic- 
 tures. How can I get out of them and why did I ever 
 get myself into such a hole, anyways?" than in listen- 
 ing to him. Anybody who is in pictures does the same 
 at least once a week. 
 
 Well, I was standing that way, when all of a sudden
 
 Laughter Limited 141 
 
 I got a jolt by Axel saying "Look! That ban Benny 
 Silvermount himself with tha party!" 
 
 I took a look then, all right, and it was not Big 
 Benny who caught and held my attention, but 
 Milton Sherrill. Until I saw him I didn't know any 
 man could make my heart leap so, especially with 
 his back turned toward me. But I knew him at once 
 by those square shoulders, the way he stood, and the 
 turn of his head. 
 
 Well, it hardly occurred to me to wonder what was 
 he doing there on our lot, he who had the lowdown on 
 pictures to such a strong degree. With him was Trixie 
 Trueman, and her husband, who was in costume and 
 also in liquor as per usual, the studio manager, Mr. 
 Blunt, and a fine-looking youngish man, who was of 
 course Mr. Silvermount, and they was all chinning and 
 kidding along together without more than the merest 
 casual glance at us poor atmosphere animals. 
 
 It was pretty plain to see that Big Benny and the 
 Truemans thought Milton a big egg, all right. A queer 
 little stab went through me as I saw Trixie sort of paw- 
 ing him over with her eyes. He looked like a regular 
 angel out of heaven to me, and while it's the truth I 
 would never in a thousand years have written to him 
 and asked for the job he had offered me on the train, 
 seeing him made things entirely different. He was my 
 reserve. I might get out of this nasty mess of a world 
 I was in, and go to real regular work that would pay 
 me a real honest-to-Gawd salary, even if that work 
 would never make me rich or famous. 
 
 But I stood there hesitating while time flew. The
 
 142 Laughter Limited 
 
 visitors was getting ready to move along and the major 
 and his assistants was getting ready to shoot. Then 
 I decided. I would go. I would catch Milton and 
 ask him. The visitors all started for the exit, he never 
 seeing me, and with a big resolve strong in my heart I 
 broke away from Axel and the pictures forever and 
 started after him. Then all at once the voice of the 
 director, of Major McGee himself, broke upon my ears 
 with the very words of which I had dreamed so long. 
 
 "Come here, little girl," he says. "You with the 
 blond curls ! I want to speak to you !" 
 
 I stopped dead in my tracks. Yes, it was really me 
 he wanted. I watched Milt and the others pass on off 
 the set through a big arched portal that was the 
 gate to the City of Paris, and I didn't mind seeing him 
 go. I forgot every single bad thing I had just been 
 thinking about the pictures. It was my chance ! The 
 major had noticed me. I would get a bit, perhaps even 
 a small part. What a poor weak fish I had been to 
 doubt myself even for a moment ! 
 
 Smiling I walked up to the major and he took hold 
 of my chin and wiggled it while he shook a finger at 
 me. 
 
 "See here, young woman !" he says. "You have on 
 a rotten make-up. The mascara from your eyes has 
 run down all over your cheeks. Don't let me catch 
 you on my set like that again. Jasper!" he added to 
 one of the assistants who come by at that moment. 
 "Why the hell can't you see that this mob is made up 
 decently ?" 
 
 And that was all. Unlike some people in pictures,
 
 Laughter Limited 143 
 
 I realize that my public has got imagination, and am 
 willing to leave it to them how I felt as I walked away. 
 All through that afternoon the feeling stayed right by 
 me, and all through the first part of the night, too, 
 when we worked on a fire set with the vivid artificial 
 lights making a cold silent furnace in the very middle 
 of sleeping Hollywood. 
 
 Ordinarily this working at night under the fierce 
 glares, while the town gradually fell silent and the 
 studio seemed like it was the only place in the world 
 that was awake, struck my dramatic sense and excited 
 me. But to-night nothing could of excited me. You 
 probably know how it feels to make a fool of yourself, 
 and I had done it twice in unusually quick succession. 
 And then at a little before midnight one of them wild 
 rumors that circulates so swift and easy among a crowd 
 of extras come alarmingly to my ears and was pres- 
 ently confirmed by Axel. 
 
 "Aye youst hear we bane going ta be paid off," he 
 says. "McGee bane through. They have cut out some 
 sequences from tha picture, and it makes them finished 
 with us to-night!" 
 
 "But I thought he said we would work all next 
 week!" I objected, bewildered. 
 
 "What they care for that?" he growled. "They 
 youst change their minds, that's all!" 
 
 Well, that was bad enough. We had all hoped for 
 another week. But things got even worse when up 
 bounded the woman who dressed next to me. 
 
 "The dogs!" she says in that angry half whisper 
 which gets to be a sort of natural voice with atmosphere
 
 144 Laughter Limited 
 
 people. "The dogs ! They are only paying check and 
 a half instead of double check! The stingy brutes!" 
 
 "What does she mean, Axel?" I says anxiously. "Is 
 it that we only get time and a half for all this over- 
 time? Why, I thought of course it would be double! 
 Everyone said so, even mommer!" 
 
 "Veil, get out your contract and show it and make a 
 fuss!" says Axel with a sickly grin. 
 
 And of course that was a joke because extras can't 
 any more get contracts than they can get credit from 
 the grocer. Well, I'll say I needed that thirty which I 
 now wasn't going to get, but I tried to smile. 
 
 "That's it!" says Axel. "Yoump along into your 
 street things and we go by Yohn's for a sandwich and 
 tha help of a good strong coffee !" 
 
 Well, we cashed in our check and a half, and went 
 along on our way, leaving a seething angry crowd be- 
 hind us. We was both pretty thoughtful, and why not 
 with the prospect of walking the weary next day be- 
 cause it was by this time well into Sunday morning ? 
 
 In John's place was the usual crew, some of which 
 were awful wet and noisy and yelling for raw beef 
 sandwiches, and others like ourselves, eating a little 
 something hot after a hard night's work. The low- 
 ceilinged room swam in smoke, both of broiling meat, 
 fried-egg sandwiches and cigarettes. Everybody come 
 there sometime or another, and it was to Hollywood a 
 sort of super-dog-wagon. I don't know could heaven 
 of looked any better to me late at night than John's 
 used to, and I lapped up the food which Axel was so 
 proud to buy me with all the eagerness of one who
 
 Laughter Limited 145 
 
 knows only too well that they will need all of their 
 strength and must preserve it. 
 
 And then, when we finished, we stepped out again 
 into the starlit, perfect California night and commenced 
 to walk slowly homewards, stopping only to buy a 
 couple of Sunday morning papers from a early news 
 bird, and talking moodily but less so on account of the 
 hot food. 
 
 When we come to our more or less own front door 
 Axel stopped short and give me a look of horror, his 
 hand as if paralyzed in his pocket. 
 
 "May Lord, Aye forgot may key !" he says. "Have 
 you got your key, Bonnie?" 
 
 I give a hasty look in my bag, pawing through hand- 
 kerchief, lipstick and etc. to no avail. 
 
 "Of course I haven't got it !" I says at last. "Nat- 
 urally not, seeing how bad we need it !" 
 
 Then the two of us give an instinctive look together 
 up towards the landlady's bedroom windows. Mom- 
 mer slept at the back, worse luck. 
 
 "Bonnie, how much back rent you owe her?" says 
 Axel miserably. 
 
 "Four weeks," I says without having to stop and 
 think. 
 
 "Aye owe her six," says he. "You better wake her 
 up!"' 
 
 And so it was me. But two weeks or four was all 
 the same to Mrs. Snifter once she was waked from her 
 natural just sleep! She told the world as she let us 
 in. 
 
 "Nice time of the morning to came in, I must say!"
 
 146 Laughter Limited 
 
 she announced like we was a side show or something. 
 "Disreputable good-for-nothing picture people up 
 drinking and dancing all night and then expecting de- 
 cent working folks to get up out of their sleep and 
 wait on them." 
 
 "Oh, hush, Mrs. Snifter, please!" I says. "You'll 
 wake mommer!" 
 
 "And what if I do?" she shouted. "What do I care 
 if she sleeps on a bed that ain't been paid for in four 
 weeks or lies awake on it? It ain't only that you ain't 
 paid your debts, Miss Bonnie Delane, but you have been 
 out all night every night this week. Yes, I know 
 working! I'll thank you to either pay up or get out 
 not later than to-morrow !" 
 
 With which hot one she banged into her own room, 
 leaving me and Axel unable to say one single word on 
 account of not being in any position to. 
 
 When I got into my own room and turned on the 
 light and pulled out the bed and sat on the edge of it, 
 to sort of train it that way, because I never could learn 
 to trust it, well, I sat there a few minutes having a hard 
 think. 
 
 Just exactly what was I going to do? Nobody had 
 ever been able before this to say I owed them money, 
 and now it was true. If I gave Snifter my whole pay 
 check it would just about square us with her, but we 
 would not be able to eat. And there was no prospects 
 in sight. Adele was broke, I knew. I couldn't fail 
 her, not after all she had done for me. But we must 
 have money quick. It was all bunk, the way we kidded 
 ourselves and got what credit we could on mere hopes
 
 Laughter Limited 147 
 
 and dreams and elaborate bluffs. Oh, I needed advice 
 and I needed it at once. 
 
 When I thought of this I thought somehow of Mil- 
 ton Sherrill, and getting up I dug his photo out of the 
 bureau draw where it had been ever since I left the 
 hotel. I had sort of forgotten Milt until that after- 
 noon. But now I set him up in his place again and 
 talked to that picture of him just like I used to do back 
 home, and as usual he give me good advice. And, be- 
 lieve me, that's all getting good advice ever is rea- 
 lizing something, and facing it honest as you can. 
 
 "Milt," I says, "what would you say I'd better do? 
 Go to work at something? I thought so! What, 
 then? Anything honest to tide over this crisis? All 
 right! But clerking, which is the only thing I know, 
 won't keep both me and mommer. I won't write to 
 you, because that would mean giving up pictures, and 
 I won't give them up, but we have got to eat. What 
 then?" 
 
 Well, I swear it seemed as if the eyes of that photo- 
 graph turned. You know the way eyes in a real good 
 photograph sometimes seem to? I followed where I 
 thought they was looking and saw the morning papers. 
 The Help Wanted column, of course! Right away I 
 picked it up and started to read. 
 
 Now when I come to this part of my story I was 
 going to put in what scenario writers call a sequence, 
 which is a section of the continuity from which a 
 movie is actually shot. And this sequence was going 
 to show a full close-up of me reading the fatal ad and 
 registering decision. Then a subtitle reading "Next
 
 148 Laughter Limited 
 
 Day," and after that I was going to iris-in to a long- 
 shot of me going to answer the ad, dressed in my very 
 plainest clothes and no make-up. Then a medium 
 close-up of me ringing the doorbell of a big house and 
 registering a combination of timidity and despairing 
 sacrifice. The next shot would be a medium shot of 
 a interior the drawing-room of a home, with a lady 
 hearing a knock. Maid enters. Lady registers "Admit 
 her." Then a medium close-up of me entering. Then 
 a nine 1 foot shot of me and the lady meeting, the lady 
 seating herself while I remain standing. And so forth. 
 But come to think it over, I decided this was the 
 kind of a sequence which ought always to be cut out in 
 the first rushes, and discarded, and that its place could 
 be very well taken by a subtitle which would clearly 
 cover a time-lapse and tell what happened to me after 
 my reading that ad in the Sunday paper. And if so, 
 the subtitle would read something like this : 
 
 A week later found Bonnie Delane firmly established 
 as a domestic servant in the home of Trixie Trueman, 
 the well-known motion-picture star.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 ' I ^HE best way to find out why is it people have so 
 * much trouble keeping a servant is to be a servant 
 for a while your own self, and after I got my job at 
 Trixie and Taylor Trueman's home I soon decided 
 that the hardest thing to bear was no regular hours. 
 Whoever made up that old quotation about a person 
 cannot burn the candle at both ends had the wrong 
 dope because the Truemans burned not a mere candle 
 but a whole electric dynamo at both ends, and in the 
 middle. Entertain ? Sweet daddy ! Them Truemans 
 entertained everybody but their servants. 
 
 I was maid to Trixie as well as my other duties of 
 waitress and nurse to the kid, a little girl of three. And 
 when Trixie had a call at the studio for nine in the 
 morning it was me had to force her awake, get her 
 up, pump her full of coffee and produce her tooth 
 paint for her to paint her stained teeth with, get on 
 her make-up, find her pair of smoked glasses to save 
 her eyes from the lights, etc., so's she could get to 
 the lot in time and also in fair condition. What she 
 got from me for seventy a month was enough, I'll say ! 
 And just think how I used to keep her on a pedestal 
 back home in Stonybrook ! I sometimes couldn't realize 
 it for a fact. 
 
 The Truemans' house was a new one, built in the 
 conventional wedding-cake architecture which is so 
 
 149
 
 150 Laughter Limited 
 
 popular in Southern California, and it was out on 
 Santa Monica Boulevard, where a lot of prominent 
 picture people was even then building for the greater 
 convenience of tourists. The Milky Way, this part of 
 the road was called, not on account of milk being the 
 principal liquid consumed there, but on account of be- 
 ing so crowded with stars. There was sleeping porches 
 stuck all over the house, French windows opening into 
 the Spanish patio, and an Irish swimming pool. Well 
 anyways, the pool was lined with green tiles. And 
 since it was out of doors the blue sky reflecting into it 
 made a wonderful effect, and turned the water the 
 color of a aquamarine. This swimming pool was 
 the nicest thing out there, and didn't I crave to get 
 into it, though! However, you know what most em- 
 ployers' attitude towards servants and bathtubs is, 
 and this also of course applied to swimming pools. I 
 used to go down to mommer's on my afternoons off, 
 for mine. 
 
 It took considerable courage, too, because as soon as 
 Adele had me safe in the tub she would remove my 
 clothes to where I couldn't reach them very easy, and 
 give me my semiweekly bawling out for being a servant 
 girl. But at the end of each explosion she would gen- 
 erally weaken and forgive me for supporting her and 
 myself by this disgraceful means, give me my clothes 
 back, and leave me return to my life of sin, saying 
 God would reward me. And I would say yes, I was 
 sure He would, only I hoped He would remember 
 the address was Santa Monica Boulevard and not 
 wait for me to come home to heaven and collect.
 
 Laughter Limited 151 
 
 Adele absolutely refused to give up mommering me 
 and look for a better paying job. 
 
 "Nonsense!" she says when I suggested her doing 
 so. "Bosh ! Things will soon get better, honey ! They 
 say every cloud has a silver lining, but I always say the 
 silver lining is probably what makes the clouds wear so 
 good!" 
 
 And then I would go back to Truemans', cleaner in 
 more ways than one, all refreshed and ready to earn 
 my salary and tips. And I may say that the tips was 
 no light matter, especially if it was a wet night in our 
 dining room, for the girls would then be awful gen- 
 erous about retrieving wraps, and sometimes run as 
 high as fivespots. A person would actually be ashamed 
 to take it, only for realizing that if you didn't get it 
 somebody no more worthy would. 
 
 Such nights come along pretty often at our house, 
 Trixie, like most picture people, preferring to entertain 
 in her own home more than outside; and Taylor liked 
 it, also. A lucky thing, because it sure was less trouble 
 to carry him merely upstairs as soon as he got thor- 
 oughly wet, than to haul him all the ways back from 
 some outside place or other. 
 
 "I don't know how I stand this life, Bonnie!" Trixie 
 says to me one late afternoon when I was up in her 
 bedroom, brushing her lovely brown curls in prepara- 
 tion for a big night. Trixie had the handsomest brown 
 curls I ever seen in my life twenty of them, full- 
 length, natural curl, and all I had to do when dressing 
 her hair was brush them around my finger a coupla 
 times and hand them to her.
 
 152 Laughter Limited 
 
 "I'm wore out, Bonnie!" she says to me, blinking 
 hard not to cry and start the mascara running off her 
 eyelashes. "I don't know can I stand it much longer. 
 No more snow parties for mine !" 
 
 "Why do you go on them ever, dear?" I says, be- 
 cause naturally after a month in the same house we 
 talked pretty intimate, and in fact she was real hungry 
 for a friend of the female sex that she was not obliged 
 to keep up any front before. "Why don't you cut out 
 the happy dust? Think of your kid, honey! Here 
 that's the curl that goes on the top." 
 
 "I got to keep going!" she says, taking it sadly. 
 "And I don't dare think about Jennie. I got to support 
 lier, haven't I?" 
 
 "What about friend husband doing a little of that?" 
 I says. "And whatter you mean, support, anyways? 
 You two must be drawing down enough kale to plant 
 a farm!" 
 
 "Twenty-two hundred a week," she says mourn- 
 fully. "I don't know where it goes. We are broke 
 all the time, and the bills we owe! It's a crime!" 
 
 "That's no excuse for the dust, hon," I says, bring- 
 ing her a blue spangled evening dress that made her 
 look like a sparkling infant fairy. "Why not cut it 
 out? You know it'll kill you!" 
 
 "I can't !" she says, getting up and clenching her little 
 hands. "You don't know, Bonnie, what it means to 
 work in comedy ! They never let you off of playing it, 
 day or night. If only I could quit being my gay screen 
 self when I leave the lot, but I can't. Why, what would 
 happen if I didn't stay in character? They'd say I
 
 Laughter Limited 153 
 
 was going stale, that's what, and the rumor would 
 spread and spread until it ruined me! I'm a madcap 
 on the screen, so I got to be one off it too." 
 
 "Refuse to be," I says briefly. 
 
 "Oh, that's a cinch to say!" says she. "But you 
 know it can't be done. There is always a reporter 
 around, or a producer on the party, or a director that's 
 set your character for you, and you got to have a lot 
 of pep ! At first it was fun and I didn't mind. It come 
 easy and natural to be gay all the time. But now I 
 been a wild woman for six years steady, except when 
 I was sleeping sleeping under a bromide! And a 
 person's own pep soon wears off. I have to take some- 
 thing to jazz me up, Bonnie ; I have to, dear !" 
 
 "Mister ought to do something about it," I says. 
 "Oh, Trixie, you got a right to your husband's money 
 and to his care. Make him do it!" 
 
 "Huh!" says she, buffing her nails like she wished 
 they was his face. "Huh! Fat chance! He and 
 Tommy has just taken a bungalow up in Laurel Canon. 
 You know what that means. They think I don't know 
 it, but a wife has always got a friend to come and spill 
 that sort of dirt to her! And as for money, do you 
 know how much he give that bootlegger yesterday? 
 Fifteen hundred, cash! And me obliged to hock my 
 diamonds to meet the installment on our ne\v car! 
 Happy dust? Liquor? Why not, Bonnie, why not?" 
 
 "Oh, hon, every reason why not!" I says, and then 
 Trixie heard her husband yelling in the hall for her 
 to hurry. 
 
 So she took a shot out of the lovely silver flask on
 
 154 Laughter Limited 
 
 her dresser, and beat it down to her gay dinner party. 
 
 I went on up to my own room, feeling kind of 
 groggy in the other sense, the way I always did after a 
 talk like that, which we were having them more and 
 more frequent. The funny part was, I couldn't get 
 sore at Trixie. She was a kid at heart, and so refined- 
 looking, but without any real brains or training, and 
 she was caught in a kind of trap. That is what suc- 
 cess had meant to her a trap. 
 
 Well, I'll say I was learning something about the 
 moving-picture business every day, even if I wasn't at 
 a studio ! And one of the lines I decided on was that 
 I would never, no, never, lose my bean like the True- 
 mans had, and throw my money away. Which it was 
 of course easy to say while I was not even in the pic- 
 tures as yet, and I was as safe making that resolve as 
 a millionaire socialist in declaring for a soviet in 
 America. 
 
 Keeping open house the way they did the Truemans 
 naturally kept it in the open part, meaning in the patio. 
 And for the benefit of those that don't understand 
 Spanish, let me explain. A patio is to a house what the 
 hole is to a doughnut. In other words, the house is 
 built around it, with the patio left open. The swimming 
 pool was right square in the middle of it, and the 
 dining room, parlor and den all opened out on it direct. 
 There was a palmetto growing in one corner of it, and 
 a orange tree in the other, while green Spanish tiles 
 grew all around the edge. Sitting in the nursery win- 
 dow of a Sunday afternoon Jennie and me could see 
 all of it pretty plain, and read our book of fairy stories
 
 Laughter Limited 155 
 
 which I had bought her on account of her never having, 
 until I come into the house, heard of Goldilocks or 
 Little Red Riding Hood, and I think it is wrong not 
 to teach a kid those great truths. 
 
 Also, sitting there I could recall how when I first 
 come West I had thought that maybe some day I would 
 be at the swimming-pool parties of some big egg, and 
 then I would think well, here I am! Well anyways, 
 we could sit there and see the party, and I could also 
 see the bell rung for me, if anyone rang it. Every 
 Sunday things would go pretty nearly the same. 
 
 About 11.30 Tom, who was Taylor Trueman's 
 dresser, would bring out a big table and set it with 
 half a dozen bottles of Scotch and rye and bowls of 
 ice and a dozen or so glasses and siphons, cigarettes 
 and a percolator of coffee, and then everything would 
 be ready for Sunday dinner. Everything but the host 
 and hostess, anyways. 
 
 The guests would commence to float in early. Reg- 
 ulars, mostly, some already in bathing suits under a 
 wrap, and some at once walking into the bath house 
 and borrowing the first suit they seen there. They 
 would stroll around the place, swimming a few strokes, 
 sunning theirself afterward, highball and cigarette in 
 hand, and then after a while Trixie would appear in 
 her one-piece, and after a little more of a while Taylor 
 would show, and they would all play like kids, talking, 
 splashing, smoking, drinking, and so forth and so on, 
 and on, and on, a new record on the phonograph for 
 every new drink. Then by sunset they would just 
 merely move into the house itself, and continue. Some
 
 156 Laughter Limited 
 
 Sunday dinner ! But then of course if you are in pic- 
 tures you must not eat too much for fear of gaining. 
 
 Well anyways, one particular Sunday that I am 
 telling you about, I got to watching the crowd circu- 
 late, and I didn't notice how little Jennie had got away 
 from me until I seen her dancing across the patio 
 below, chasing Fluff, the small white dog belonging 
 to my boss. At the same moment, almost, who should 
 come in the door but Anita Lauber, and with her that 
 chunky blond play writer and director, Jack Blum, with 
 whom she was chatting like they was intimate friends. 
 
 The sight of Anita in that house give me a jolt, 
 I'll tell the world ! It didn't seem fair, somehow, that 
 she should be there as a guest, when everybody knew 
 about her character, and here was I, a mere servant! 
 Something in me got up and yelled in silent protest; 
 yelled it hard. And any girl which was raised in New 
 England, where they would rather die than be a 
 servant, will understand. Was there really no penalty 
 for going on the loose in that crowd ? Did everything 
 get by? Would nobody snub you or shake a cold 
 shoulder, no matter what a girl did ? I'll say it looked 
 that way! 
 
 Anita was dressed beautiful, in blue satin sports 
 clothes. She had snap to every inch of her. I looked 
 down at my black dress and white apron, and Lord, 
 how I hated my job at that minute! 
 
 No use in telling myself what I knew to be the fact 
 that those people down there in the patio was not the 
 real topside picture people; not in the class with Mary
 
 Laughter Limited 157 
 
 and Doug and Charlie and their set, or in the class 
 with the great writers like Mr. and Mrs. Greyton, or 
 so forth, and that therefore I was every bit as good 
 as them and etc. I felt menial and ashamed of it, yet 
 could only set there wrapping my hands in my apron 
 and hoping to heaven Anita and Blum would go away 
 soon, although that was hoping against too much, for 
 they had brought their bathing suits. 
 
 "Sweet daddy," I thought, "I suppose the ocean is 
 now too vulgar for Anita to wash in it, that she has got 
 to come here !" 
 
 Trixie had never spoke of Anita, but they kissed 
 when they met, so they must of met once or twice 
 before. Funny, but Milton Sherrill was the only one 
 I had thought of, and dreaded meeting in the True- 
 mans' house, and Trixie had told me she had never 
 seen him before or since that day on the DuMas Pear 
 set. I had never even dreamed of seeing Anita there. 
 
 Well anyways, just as Anita had got hold of a high- 
 ball and I had got hold of myself a little better, that 
 beast of a small white dog of ours had to go and jump 
 into the pool with all its fur on, so of course Jennie had 
 to jump in after it with all her clothes on. 
 
 Right away there was a lot of grief from below and 
 my bell started ringing like mad. Seeing the kid in the 
 water, I jumped up and ran downstairs. I had to. 
 And at that very instant the front door opened and in 
 come Greg Strickland. 
 
 While I stood there paralyzed, from the other way 
 come Anita, waving her highball at me frantically, and
 
 158 Laughter Limited 
 
 down the center charged Trixie Trueman, holding out 
 a wet and screaming child to me, the child holding 
 out a wet and barking pup. 
 
 One of the strangest things in the world is the way 
 we keep thinking our friends is less decent than we 
 are ; less kind or generous, and always having that first 
 blind instinct of mistrust. 
 
 The very moment I had clasped that wet dog and 
 child to my bosom, and stood hugging them and trying 
 to comfort the two of them, while Trixie disgustedly 
 wiped a few drops of water off the front of her bath- 
 ing suit with a lace handkerchief well, at that very 
 minute I realized I had done Anita a injustice. I had 
 expected she would pretend not to recognize me, and 
 here she was as glad to see me as could be. 
 
 "Bonnie darling!" she cried, running up and giving 
 me a kiss across my wet armful. "So this is where 
 you been hiding! Look at the cap and apron! My 
 heaven, have you gone cuckoo, or what?" 
 
 "Good Lord, Bonnie !" says Stricky, turning first red 
 and then white. "Say listen! You have stuck it out 
 in your own way, haven't you?"
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 T COULDN'T stand any more, but turned and run 
 -* upstairs with the dog and the baby. Somehow the 
 minute I seen Stricky, all his terrible charm swept back 
 over me. He upset me from the roots, so to speak, 
 and it was a kind of attraction that give me more 
 worry than pleasure. I hated him, I disapproved of 
 him, I had good cause to mistrust him, and yet when 
 I come face to face with him, all I could think was 
 how handsome he was. So I ran. In a minute Trixie 
 was after me, helping with the kid for once in her life, 
 but talking like a whirlwind as she done so. 
 
 "Whatter you want to let them hand me a haymaker 
 like that for, Bonnie?" she says. "Why, Anita Lauber 
 says you are a wonderful actress, a regular knockout, 
 and that you got a big future. Why didn't you tell 
 me, dear?" 
 
 "I'm not !" I says. "I only want to be ! And I'd been 
 out of a job so long " 
 
 And then we done considerable kissing and crying, 
 as might of been expected of women, and when the kid 
 was dry and the dog ditto, nothing would satisfy 
 Trixie but that I should come down to the patio and 
 have a celebration held over me. 
 
 "Ain't we got fun ?" Trixie shouted to the crowd as 
 she dragged me down without even letting me take off 
 
 159
 
 160 Laughter Limited 
 
 my apron. "Here I been employing a angel unawares, 
 so to speak!" 
 
 And greatly to my surprise, Stricky backed her up. 
 
 "You got right, Trixie, old dear!" he says. "She's 
 a little saint, as I know to my sorrow. She's got an 
 idea that it is possible to get into the pictures without 
 a friend." 
 
 Well, if looks could of murdered, the one Trixie 
 flashed him should of knocked him cold. She drew 
 herself up with pride, and took hold of my hand. 
 
 "She's right," says Trixie hotly. "It is possible to 
 get in without a pull if you've got friends to help you. 
 And I'm going to help Bonnie. Hey, take a good look 
 at her, Stricky. Do you see what I see ?" 
 
 Stricky stared at me hard for a moment, and then 
 he gave a long whistle. 
 
 "Ain't she just the type Nickolls is looking for?" 
 Trixie demanded. "What we were talking about yes- 
 terday?" 
 
 "You said it!" says Stricky. "Of course she is!" 
 
 "What's this?" I says. "Am I a type, or something?" 
 
 "You are," says Trixie. "And I'm going to lead 
 you down to the studio in the morning and show you 
 to Nicky. It's for the piece Stricky is acting in with 
 me. We just commenced making it, and we need a 
 girl that won't cut in on me any, see ? A utterly differ- 
 ent type from me for contrast, and somebody who 
 won't ask for their name on the bill, because I wouldn't 
 stand for that, of course. Nicky's had a bunch of them 
 up, because he always does his own casting. But nat- 
 urally, when I am the star, I pass on the girls, and none
 
 Laughter Limited 161 
 
 of these have got by me. You'll do, if Nicky O. K's 
 
 you." 
 
 "Oh, Trixie honest?" I gasped. 
 
 "You been awful good to me and Jennie, hon," says 
 she. "And now I can repay it, that's all ! You won't 
 mind doing a slavey, while I wear the clothes, will 
 you?" 
 
 "Why say !" I says with my first real laugh in some 
 time. "That'll only be casting us in character, won't 
 it ? Just let me at a chance to act, that's all !" 
 
 That night I couldn't go to sleep, even after the 
 noise in the patio had died away. I just lay there on 
 my narrow bed up under the roof, and drank in the 
 wonder smells and sounds of the night; the odor of 
 eucalyptus leaves burning or dried, the odor of oil and 
 the thump of the oil pumps, the odor of cedar logs 
 burning. The Coast! The Coast! Magic! 
 
 And tomorrow Nickolls, the stern, hard-lipped 
 young director. Would I get by? To play in a pic- 
 ture with Trixie and with Stricky! And so Stricky 
 was an actor now ! He was playing the juvenile, op- 
 posite Trixie. I must have made a mistake about 
 Stricky. He was charming, he was kind. Anita had 
 said I would have to pay to get into the pictures. Anita 
 was mistaken. You could go straight, even in Holly- 
 wood. You could have kind women friends who would 
 help you. How pleased mommer would be. So pleased, 
 dear mommer! I would telephone her if I got by. 
 No more needless disappointments for mommer. If I 
 made good she would know. If I made a flop why tell 
 her? And Anita. How white she was, with her little
 
 162 Laughter Limited 
 
 silver box dangling from her wrist. I knew what was 
 in it now. Happy dust Poor Anita. And so forth. 
 
 I am supposed to be thinking all of the above, see? 
 I'm laying there and. dreaming, only awake, and those 
 are the things which kept going through my head, in 
 a kind of confused cloud. 
 
 The next morning, when it finally come, didn't seem 
 a whole lot more real than these dreams I have been 
 describing. I put on my synthetic tailor suit which 
 mommer had reconstructed for me, and Trixie took me 
 along on her ten o'clock call. 
 
 Well, only a person which had gone through what I 
 had at Silvermount can imagine fully how I felt driv- 
 ing up to the main entrance of the lot with Trixie True- 
 man in her big yellow roadster and parking, nose in, 
 right between Nickolls' shabby old Colby-Droit that 
 everybody knew but nobody laughed at, and Benny 
 Silvermount's bright new foreign car with its 
 queer special body. Class? I'll say so! Scared as 
 I was I could not help but get quite a kick out of even 
 that simple thing, not to mention that when we went in 
 the lobby the girl behind the little window smiled all 
 ovei her map, touched a button in haste and the 
 door wearing the Keep-Out This-Means-You sign, 
 flew open to let I and Trixie through. 
 
 The Silvermount lot now seemed like Paradise or 
 something tc me, with its well-kept patches of lawn 
 and flowering trees and bushes between the enormous 
 buildings. I gaped around at the stages, which many 
 of them are three or even four hundred feet long, and 
 at the massive technical department and laboratory,
 
 Laughter Limited 163 
 
 where they develop the fillums and etc., and cut out 
 your best footage when you are not looking. And 
 also at the wardrobe building and the high-class dress- 
 ing-room house that had a six-hundred-foot front. 
 And many other features and advantages, which I took 
 in with awe, for all the architecture was pretty much 
 on the same style as a lot of Greek temples turned into 
 something useful, if you can imagine what I mean. 
 
 Trixie being used to them paid no attention to these 
 wonders, but at once grabbed me by the arm and started 
 dragging me off towards where a man was standing 
 under a fig tree. His back was to us, and he was en- 
 tirely absorbed in absorbing figs. He was dressed in 
 corduroy riding breeches, and soft shirt with the 
 sleeves rolled up, and a wrist watch, the national cos- 
 tume of motion-picture directors since time immemo- 
 rium. And he was some fig eater, for he would reach 
 up, pick a fig off the topmost branch, split it open with 
 one squeeze, bite its heart out and throw away the 
 skin all in about one second. 
 
 And it wasn't until we was almost up to this savage 
 that I realized he was the great John Austin Nickolls, 
 and when I did realize, no kidding, I begun to worry 
 for fear he might bite my head off, the same as a 
 fig, for I remembered the first day I seen him, when 
 he roared at poor Axel like a dog because Axel had 
 stopped to speak to me. 
 
 But I need not of been so afraid, after all, for when 
 he turned around and saw it was Trixie he give her the 
 sweetest smile I ever seen, and shook his big mat of 
 yellow curls like a friendly dog.
 
 1 64 Laughtei Limited 
 
 "Hello, hellcat/' he says real pleasant. "How's 
 tricks?" 
 
 "Pretty good, all but my head !" says she. 
 "Wish you had invited me!" he says with a grin. 
 "Do I get introduced?" he went on, looking at me, 
 interest springing up sudden in his keen blue eyes. 
 
 "My friend Miss Delane," says Trixie. "I thought 
 she might do for my foil in The Mischief Maker. What 
 about it?" 
 
 "I'm glad tc meet you, Miss Delane," says Nickolls 
 in quite a new voice; a sincere, musical voice, with a 
 high-class genuine English accent. "Indeed 1 believe 
 I'm going to be exceptionally glad tc meet you." 
 "Pleased!" I managed to gulp. 
 But I liked him right away. He looked to be real 
 all the way through. Something in me recognized him. 
 I don't know any other way to tell what I mean. I 
 didn't fall in love, not then nor ever, with him. But I 
 knew him right away. 
 
 "Isn't she the type ?" says Trixie. "She's a friend of 
 mine. I can work with her, I know." Then she whis- 
 pered in his ear, but I couldn't help but hear. "Cheap !" 
 she says. "And you know how Benny is acting about 
 salaries just now !" 
 
 He nodded and kept on looking at me thoughtfully. 
 And of course that made me stand awkward and look 
 awkward, not to mention feeling ditto. But there was 
 nothing personal in the way he give me the up and 
 down. Then he smiled again, that wonderful smile. 
 "Had any experience, Miss Delane?" he says so sud- 
 denly that I give a jump.
 
 Laughter Limited 165 
 
 For a second I was going to shoot him the conven- 
 tional "Oh, lots," when some instinct made me change 
 my mind. In the face of the first real man I had met 
 in this business, except Rolf, why I just plain decided 
 I would be real too. I'd take a chance. 
 
 "No," I blurted at him. "Practically none. Atmos- 
 phere and a few amateur theatricals." 
 
 "Well, I see you're not a liar, anyway," says he 
 cheerfully, as though that was a sign of hope. "I 
 wonder if you can act, and whether you screen? Ever 
 had a test made that we could see ?" 
 
 "No," says I. 
 
 He got silent again, looking at me and scratching his 
 curls first on one side and then on the other. 
 
 "Well," he says at last, "she really is the type for that 
 slavey. Pretty, but no doll. If she can act a comedy 
 part I Hey, Joe!" 
 
 A man was crossing the next path to us, but at this 
 call he stopped and come back. 
 
 "Say, Joe," says Mr. Nickolls, "is there anybody 
 working on Number Four? No? Fine! Say, just 
 take a camera over there, will you! I want to make 
 a test." 
 
 I don't really know how I got to Trixie's dressing 
 room, but somehow I did, she laughing and pulling me 
 by the arm. When I come to from the shock I was 
 seated in front of her enormous lace-trimmed dress- 
 ing table, putting on make-up. And in such a dressing 
 room ! Pink taffeta curtains and pink satin furniture, 
 and a gray velvet rug. A tiled bathroom beyond on 
 one side, and on the other side, near the head of the
 
 166 Laughter Limited 
 
 stairs, a sitting room, belonging to Trixie, too, also in 
 rose silk and gray velvet. Nickolls was walking up 
 and down in there throwing cigarette ashes on the 
 floor and playing the elegant phonograph that was 
 hidden in the base of a big gold lamp with a Jap silk 
 shade. Nickolls was waiting for me! 
 
 I heard him yell down to somebody on the lot to run 
 over on his set and tell them he would be a few min- 
 utes late. On my account! Sweet daddy! I could 
 hardly manage to get ready, fumbling among Trixie' s 
 things, which included dead roses, two half -empty 
 bottles of Scotch, and a spilled ounce of twenty-dollar 
 perfume which hung heavy in the air. My head reeled 
 with it and with excitement. Then at last I was all 
 set. 
 
 "You'll do, dear !" says Trixie, and then we all went 
 down the stairs and across to Number Four Stage. 
 
 Next thing I knew Nickolls give me a few instruc- 
 tions and then his business voice was yelling. 
 
 "Lights!" he says. "Camera! Now come in, Miss 
 Delane! Walk across! Open that door! Horror! 
 More horror! That's right! Slam the door! That'll 
 do! Now go back and come in again. Cross to the 
 window and see something funny in the street below. 
 Now somebody is coming upstairs, and you have no 
 business in this room. They will catch you! Hide 
 under the table. That's it ! That's it ! Ha, ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Ho, ha Oh, that's great! That's great! You're 
 
 a scream, kid, you're a scream ! If that screens for a 
 cent you're hired ! You're hired ! That's enough !" 
 
 The lights went off, and still Nickolls was wiping his
 
 Laughter Limited 167 
 
 eyes and laughing and wiping them again. Trixie, 
 who had stuck by, turned to me, and her manner had 
 something funny the matter with it. 
 
 "Don't overdo it, hon!" she says, kind of sharp. 
 Then she turned on her director. "Well, Nicky !" she 
 says. "I never got a laugh like that out of you! I 
 hope you enjoyed yourself !" 
 
 "I'll say I did !" says he. "And I'm much obliged to 
 you for bringing her. We will look at the test at the 
 morning rushes. Now don't get sore, cutie ; she will be 
 a great little foil for your beautiful black hair." 
 
 Trixie smiled at him, her peeve vanishing quick as it 
 had come, as was her usual way. Then Nickolls stepped 
 over and took both my hands in his. 
 
 "I hope to God you screen !" he says solemnly. "Be- 
 cause if you do we sure can work together. I can't 
 ask you to see the test tomorrow, because that is against 
 our rules here. We like to be absolutely free to com- 
 ment, you know. But I'll telephone you the result. 
 Good-by!" 
 
 I walked away on air, while Trixie of course went 
 off to work. Back at her house I did my chores as 
 usual, but they didn't seem real or anything like it. 
 
 The Truemans didn't come home to dinner that 
 night, but blew in with a noisy crowd around two 
 o'clock and turning on the electric piano, danced until 
 somewheres around four. Maybe that was what made 
 Trixie so sore and short with me when I helped her to 
 dress the next, or rather I should say, the same morn- 
 ing. Not a word out of her about anything Nickolls 
 might of said, or anything ! So I let her alone, aside
 
 168 Laughter Limited 
 
 from dressing her, and when she had gone off to the 
 studio I faced a morning of worry the equal of which 
 I have never endured before or since. 
 
 You see I didn't even know what rushes was, or 
 when they might happen. Of course I have since found 
 out that rushes are the shots which have been made the 
 day before, and which are developed and shown to the 
 director and department heads and sometimes to the 
 star, just as they come on the reel of fillum, not even 
 cut into rough continuity. And the object of this first 
 showing is merely to see is the photography any good. 
 Then next day the takings of the previous day is by 
 now in rough continuity, and is shown again, and so 
 on, the improvements of one day being shown the next 
 until it is complete, along with the daily new raw shoot- 
 ings which the directors bring in. It is a sort of end- 
 less chain, a mill, through which a picture is ground to 
 the accompaniment of scathing remarks, criticism and 
 suggestions from the heads. 
 
 The cutter and a stenog sits there under a shaded 
 lamp and takes it all down, and then they carry the 
 fillum back to the laboratory and make the changes and 
 improvements and etc. The usual fillum will be run at 
 least twenty times by the heads before it is O.K.'d. And 
 it is at these rushes, which are generally pulled off be- 
 tween twelve and one on most lots, that a test is gener- 
 ally shown. 
 
 And well, all I can say is that if I had that morning 
 known as much about the rush hour as I do now I 
 would not of lived to be writing this! Sweet daddy, 
 I would of been too nervous ! I would not even of had
 
 Laughter Limited 169 
 
 strength to stagger to the telephone when at last it rang 
 at i : 15. I hardly made it, anyways. I was so shot 
 with excitement I could hardly pluck the blue silk doll 
 off that phone to answer it. And then when I did, over 
 the wire come Nickolls' voice. 
 
 "Test was a big hit, Miss Delane," says he. "Could 
 you run right down to my office and talk over terms ?"
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 "^"ICKOLLS," says Greg Strickland, leaning 
 ^^ against the steeple of the Metropolitan Tower 
 "Nickolls is in a class by himself." 
 
 "Yeh! He'd have to go a long ways back before 
 he met anyone," I says, sitting down on a corner of 
 Trinity Churchyard, which happened to be alongside 
 of it. "And, he sure does shake a wicked megaphone !" 
 
 We had been working three weeks on The Mischief 
 Maker, I at one hundred berries a week, and I'll say 
 earning it too. But for the moment I had put down the 
 scrub brush and mop and pail of suds which was the 
 principal ingredients of my costume, and Strick and 
 I was parked on a jumbled-up discarded New York set, 
 waiting for our call while Nicky struggled with our 
 star. Trixie was playing a legitimate part for the first 
 time, and he was sure handling her wonderful. 
 
 "Say listen, Bonnie, you are no slouch in this pic- 
 ture yourself !" Stricky declared. 
 
 "Huh!" says I, because that was the most cutting 
 remark I could think of. 
 
 "Really you are a wonderful actress," says Stricky 
 earnestly. "And you've got a big future !" 
 
 Well, of course that is the best compliment one per- 
 son in Hollywood can pay another, and so I weakened 
 a little toward him. 
 
 "Why do you keep away from me all the time, Bon- 
 
 170
 
 Laughter Limited 171 
 
 nie?" he says then. "Do you realize that this is 
 actually the first time you have given me the chance 
 to speak to you alone? What's wrong, eh?" 
 
 For a moment I was knocked so cold by that I 
 couldn't answer. And then I found my voice and went 
 right for him. 
 
 "After all the grief you made for me," I says, "you 
 dare to pull a line like that! After the lies you told 
 me to get me out here!" 
 
 "What lies ?" says Stricky. "What are you getting 
 at? I told you that you could get seventy-five a week 
 in pictures, and you are getting a hundred !" 
 
 "That's so," I had to admit. "But it's not the point. 
 You get me perfectly !" 
 
 "I'd give anything in the world to get you !" he says, 
 lowering his voice. "Bonnie, I'm simply cuckoo about 
 you!" 
 
 The follow-up I had all prepared died on my lips. 
 Stricky was playing a sort of light-heavy part in this 
 piece, and with his make-up of smart afternoon clothes, 
 his hair like varnished leather, the powder on his face 
 giving it the smooth beauty of a child's, he was enough 
 to wreck anybody's peace. 
 
 "You are going to be a big hit, girlie," he went on. 
 "And worth a lot of money. Everybody on this lot is 
 strong for your work. You ought to of heard old 
 Benny himself at the rushes yesterday. He stood up 
 and hollered." 
 
 "Oh, Stricky!" I says. 
 
 "I know I've been a sort of a rotter in some ways," 
 Stricky went on, "but after all, you would never have
 
 172 Laughter Limited 
 
 come out here except for me. And if I exaggerated 
 about myself a little back in Stonybrook, it was because 
 I was wild over you, even then. You are going far, 
 girlie, and I don't want you to leave me behind." 
 
 "I won't, Stricky," I says, all milk and water inside 
 myself. "You know I won't. And I will be friends 
 from now on." 
 
 "I'll make you more than friends, sweetheart !" says 
 Stricky. 
 
 And then he kissed my hands and dropped them. 
 And get this there was no camera on us, either! It 
 was romance with a capital Row, all right! Every 
 bitter thought or feeling I had about him was wiped 
 out, and the old attraction, which I had been fighting 
 off all this time, come back with a rush. But we 
 couldn't say anything more just then because Nickolls 
 come roaring up, his curls shaking with excitement like 
 a angry lion's mane. 
 
 "Why the Silvermount doesn't go broke is more than 
 I can tell !" he growled. "Here I ask for a camel for 
 the Egyptian sequence for ten this morning sharp, and 
 what happens? Is the camel here? No! He's out 
 on a lecture tour with the Blue Law Boobs, or some- 
 thing! Anyway nobody knows anything about him. 
 The blessed saints preserve us ! We are paying Trixie 
 three hundred and fifty dollars a working day, and be- 
 cause some ass forgot to get the camel she can't work ! 
 Not to mention the rest of you. It makes me sick !" 
 
 "Thank heaven it's not my money !" says Strick. 
 
 "Bah !" says Nicky. "The same thing runs through 
 every detail of the business. And then I catch hell from
 
 Laughter Limited 173 
 
 the office because it costs a hundred thousand dollars 
 to make a fifty-thousand-dollar picture! Look at yes- 
 terday too ! Two hundred atmosphere people at ten a 
 day each, on that ballroom set from nine in the morn- 
 ing until 3 : 30 in the afternoon, and not a foot of 
 film could be shot because the fuses went blooey, and 
 the electricians were all somewhere else! Then when 
 I actually got fuses in again, the crowd looked so 
 dog-tired that I will probably have to make the scene 
 over when I see the rushes!" 
 
 "Why don't you tell them at the office?" I says. 
 
 "Tell them, hell !" says he. "What's the use, when 
 jobs are given out through friendship instead of on 
 a basis of merit ? How long will it last ? Heaven only 
 knows. Art is a business, little Bonnie, and until the 
 producers find that out they will have only this half- 
 satisfactory hybrid, that is art by accident and business 
 by luck!" 
 
 "But I thought art was all loose ends, Nicky," I 
 says. "Meals any old time, getting up late, acting as you 
 please, and being generally unreliable." 
 
 "Say listen, child !" says he. "What have you been 
 doing these last few weeks? Getting to bed early, 
 coming on the lot, rested, at nine prompt. Sometimes 
 at eight. Working like a slave all day and going home 
 dead to the world. Right ?" 
 
 I nodded. 
 
 "A chore!" says he. "That's what it's been! A 
 tiresome grind. Playing the same scene over and over, 
 waiting around with your nerves and your patience 
 almost worn out. Yes? And if you haven't produced
 
 174 Laughter Limited 
 
 one of the finest bits of art I ever saw I'll eat the 
 film. Art, little Bonnie, means working like hell." 
 
 "Well, thanks of course," I says. "But who is to 
 blame in most pictures, Nicky ?" 
 
 "Easy money is to blame," says he gloomily. "That 
 is, if any one thing is to blame. Pictures are so big. 
 It takes so many people to make a picture. The story- 
 writer, the scenario editor, the continuity writer, direc- 
 tor, architect, builders, electricians, the actors of course. 
 The chap who writes the titles, the technical man who 
 cuts the film. It is, in my opinion, absolutely impos- 
 sible to state that any one of these people is most re- 
 sponsible for the merit of the finished product. The 
 only person in the outfit whose relation to the picture 
 is absolutely defined is the producer the man in the 
 office the money man. And he is nothing in the 
 world but a middleman. The rest of us are all 
 merging, constantly. We are indispensable strands 
 of the same web. It would fall apart without any 
 one of us, you see. There ! Let's go eat, and by the 
 time we are through, that damn camel may have 
 shown up !" 
 
 So I and Strick and the boss went and ate avacado 
 salad and cofTee in the big cafeteria across the way, 
 because we was naturally all of us dieting, even myself, 
 now that I was in the pictures, for although I had not 
 put on any weight, mommer was already insisting on 
 me not taking any chances. 
 
 Well anyways, there we sat and dieted amidst all 
 the other dieting hams and camera men and authors 
 and atmosphere and so forth, both in costume and out,
 
 Laughter Limited 175 
 
 with the clatter of knives and plates and the usual blue 
 haze of cigarette smoke of both sexes, but my mind 
 was not on what I was doing. 
 
 I couldn't help but realize how true every word 
 Nicky had spoke was, now that he had mentioned it. 
 Right away I could think of a dozen people on our lot 
 who was there because of being somebody's sweetie 
 or cousin or particular friend. Why even I myself was 
 there because of Trixie having brought me and said 
 I was a friend of hers. And if I had made good, why 
 that was a mere happy accident. Not that Nicky would 
 of hired me if I had been a clown, because Nicky was 
 one of them magnificent exceptions to the rule in pic- 
 tures that have saved pictures from the scrap heap. 
 But generally speaking it would of been that way. 
 
 And naturally I thought then of Axel, who had been 
 hounding me to introduce him to Nicky. Axel was 
 a natural-born extra, and hadn't the brains to be any- 
 thing else ever. Not that he knew it, of course. And 
 for a few moments I thought "Well, now I am in an 
 awkward jam." A'nd then I decided, "Well, this is a 
 exceptional case. Axel has been an awful good friend 
 to me and I really owe him something. So what harm 
 to bring him on the lot and introduce him to Nicky 
 and simply say nothing about him except only, 'This 
 is a personal friend of mine, he's got a big future and 
 etc. and anything you can do for him, why I will ap- 
 preciate it ?' ' 
 
 Well anyways, after lunch the camel had come, but 
 it was so late that Nicky says, "Go on home, little Bon- 
 nie, you are not in the camel sequence and we will not
 
 176 Laughter Limited 
 
 get around to your bit to-day." Which is far more 
 consideration than most directors show, and they will 
 usually let you wait around just on general lack of 
 principle. 
 
 Well, I went home, like he said, feeling very glad and 
 happy, because now I had somebody to moon over, 
 and every girl needs it, and Stricky sure could vamp 
 me when he tried. 
 
 Also I was glad to go home to mommer, even if we 
 was still living in that horrible place on Vine Street 
 with Mrs. Snifter. Mommer had insisted that we 
 should stay on, because of it being so cheap. 
 
 "Until we buy you a decent wardrobe," says Adele, 
 "this is where we stay, and the money goes on your 
 back. They say clothes don't make the man, but I 
 always say hats of a feather flock together." 
 
 And that ended any moving for the present. One 
 luxury Adele did allow us, though; and that was a 
 phonograph. To be sure it was merely a fifty-dollar 
 one, and the only period case it had was the Install- 
 ment Period, but she got also some Ai jazz numbers 
 for it, and I felt it kind of established us in a com- 
 munity where no phonograph was almost a bigger dis- 
 grace than no toothbrush. 
 
 Well anyways, this day I am telling you about, I 
 come home from the studio, and rushed up the stairs 
 to the tune of Kick Me Around on the Hardwood, the 
 sweet strains of which was eliminating from our flat 
 and phonograph, and found that mommer had a sur- 
 prise for me. Mommer always had a surprise for me, 
 even if it was only a please-remit slip, but as a general
 
 Laughter Limited 177 
 
 rule it was a hot spice cake, a new veil or a jar of 
 some sort of make-up specialty that she thought would 
 improve me. And this time the surprise was my own 
 name in print. 
 
 "Look, dear !" she says the very minute I got inside. 
 "See what I cut out of Wid's and also from the Mirror 
 this morning!" 
 
 And it was this way that I seen my first press no- 
 tices. Some notices, they was, too! Sweet daddy! 
 No others has ever looked so big to me. And this is 
 what they says: 
 
 Among the cast supporting Trixie Trueman in The 
 Mischief Maker, a comedy by Harold Greyton, which 
 will be the charming little star's next release, are Helen 
 Strowell, Robert Strickland, Ellen More, Tom Wells, 
 Bonnie Delane, Hick Trowbridge and the famous Silver- 
 mount collie dog, Snap. The picture is being directed by 
 John A. (Nicky) Nickolls. 
 
 Quite a long notice, I'll say ! And the fact that both 
 notices was exactly alike and had therefore probably 
 been sent out from the Silvermount's own office hung 
 no crepe in my young life ! I was in the paper, in the 
 professional trade papers, and that was enough for me. 
 And when on top of all this mommr actually produced 
 the same identical clipping from that very morning's 
 Lost Angeles Times' motion-picture column, I felt like 
 a million dollars. 
 
 "Oh, mommer!" I says. "I'm really in! Now 
 watch me soar !" 
 
 "I'd rather see you driving a tin lizzie along a safe 
 road at fifteen an hour," says mommer, "than to see
 
 178 Laughter Limited 
 
 you go up in any aeroplane. You'd stay where you was 
 going, longer." 
 
 A day or two later Adele and Axel and me read 
 another kind of notice yet, and it come out of a news- 
 paper which a person couldn't see, nor put their hands 
 on it, but which is a real news sheet, just the same, 
 and one is published on every lot, I'll say it is! And 
 by this I mean that invisible daily, The Lowdown, 
 which spreads news around in motion-picture circles 
 probably more quickly than in any other branch of 
 life. When anything big happens on a lot everybody 
 knows it in advance as you might say. And it's a 
 funny thing how often these lowdown rumors will 
 turn out to be correct. 
 
 It was a press notice of this brand that Axel handed 
 us at breakfast one morning when The Mischief Maker 
 was all but finished. There was a couple of retakes 
 to be made and then we would be through. I say 
 "we" because Axel was by now working in the pic- 
 ture on account of my having introduced him to Nicky 
 and Nicky had of course hired him for the atmos- 
 phere crowd. Nicky had merely talked to Axel for 
 three minutes and then said, "Yes, I can use you in 
 the ballroom scene," in a tone which left no hope. 
 Nicky was certainly different from most directors, even 
 then. 
 
 Well anyways, Axel was working for Silvermount, 
 and as usual mommer was giving both of us a 7 : 30 
 hot cup of coffee before going to work, just like in the 
 old days, when Axel sprung his piece of informa- 
 tion.
 
 Laughter Limited 179 
 
 "Ay understand you ban Big Benny's best bet now, 
 Bonnie," says Axel. 
 
 "That so?" says I. "Fat chance, Axel! Why, I'm 
 just a feeder for Trixie. I've seen the rushes, and I 
 dunno they look rotten to me. I'm a fright in the 
 make-up. Dirty servant girl." 
 
 "Ay heard the camera feller, Joe, say you bane 
 absolutely something new." 
 
 Mommer and I exchanged a significant female look 
 at that, because being considered something new is 
 going some in pictures. Axel went on. 
 
 "Ay heard you ban offered a six-picture contract," 
 says he. "Ay hear every place you ban in strong. 
 Nickolls wanted your name should be on the cast but 
 Trueman got sore. Ay tank you walk away with tha 
 picture sure, Bonnie." 
 
 Again mommer and me exchanged a wireless. Of 
 course we knew that I had made pretty good, and in 
 the rushes I had seen that I had done about what they 
 wanted of me. I had stumbled over pails of water, 
 fallen off of stepladders, cooked a bowl of pet goldfish, 
 and other humorous incidents until it was a wonder 
 I had a bone left in my body, and me with no personal 
 insurance either. 
 
 I had done all this without cracking a smile before 
 the camera; and indeed why would I smile? But 
 Nicky seemed to think it was wonderful that I didn't, 
 because naturally every time I got hurt the rest of the 
 people on our set including Nicky himself would set up 
 a roar. Right up to the end of the picture I kept my 
 face. Then when I heard the bad news at the end of
 
 180 Laughter Limited 
 
 the story, why, I smiled. The smile you all know so 
 well. 
 
 Well anyways, I had tried to do what they wanted, 
 as I say. But up to now, with the job all but finished, 
 nobody had even delicately hinted at a reengagement. 
 Not a soul had murmured that sweet word "contract" 
 in my willing ear, and so far as I knew, by the end 
 of the week I would again be admiring the boulevards 
 from morning until night. 
 
 "That's a swell contract you tell about, Axel," says 
 I. "But it's a stranger to me. Where do you get 
 this dope, eh?" 
 
 "Pretty straight," he says. "A fellar told may that 
 Joe told him, and Joe, he bane got it from Ed, tha op- 
 erator of tha head's private projection room. Ed 
 heard Big Benny told tha production manager to tell 
 Nickolls to sign you up." 
 
 "Oh, dearie, I'll bet you it's true!" says mommer. 
 "Why, that's first-hand, almost! Now if they send 
 for you, send for me first ! Be sure to, Bonnie. When 
 I was Helena Holman's mother it was me got her 
 twice the money they offered her at first. Always take 
 your mother with you, hon, when you go about a con- 
 tract, and look perfectly blank and round-eyed while I 
 talk. There is something about a picture actress' 
 mother makes producers fairly sick the very minute 
 they see her coming, and they at once give better terms 
 in despair." 
 
 "Sweet daddy, I only hope you have the chance to 
 scare 'em !" says I. "But I don't know. I have already 
 got the I'm-almost-out-again blues."
 
 Laughter Limited 181 
 
 But Axel was pretty near right. For that very day 
 things began to move for me, and move fast. 
 
 I was on the lot early, all made up, bucket of suds, 
 mop, rumpled hair and all, for the retake of a long- 
 shot. This was being left to a boy named Louie, one 
 of Nicky's assistant directors. It was an unimportant 
 shot which had merely had something wrong in the 
 background, or Nicky would of done it himself, but 
 this day he didn't appear to be at the studio. Well, 
 we went out on the location, Louie and me, and he 
 made the retake a couple of dozen times on account of 
 being desperately afraid of not pleasing Nicky and con- 
 sequently shooting about six hundred feet in order to 
 get a sixty-foot scene. 
 
 And when we come in around noon I was only too 
 glad to crawl up to my little cubby of a dressing room 
 and change, my mind less on my art than on a glass 
 of milk and a chicken sandwich. 
 
 I was just reveling in the thought of them the way 
 a person will, when Eddie the call boy knocked on the 
 door and says I am wanted on the phone and I went, 
 thinking probably it was mommer to say "Don't for- 
 get to stop for the laundry on your way home," or 
 some such excitement. But when I says "Yes, it is 
 me speaking," this is what I heard. 
 
 "Miss Delane, this is Mr. Silvermount," says the 
 voice. 
 
 Well, naturally for a minute I was jolted and then I 
 come down to earth. 
 
 "Oh, sure it is !" I says, thinking of course it was 
 Stricky or somebody trying to be funny. "Yes, Benny
 
 182 Laughter Limited 
 
 dear, I suppose you are offering me a contract or some- 
 thing ! Well, I couldn't accept, thanks, unless it's very 
 good. Mtiro and everyone is showering me with 
 offers, kid !" 
 
 "1 got no doubt of it," says the voice, kind of dry 
 and shortlike. "But I guess you and me can arrange 
 satisfactory terms, Miss Delane, if you drop around 
 by my office about 2 : 30 this afternoon." 
 
 "My dear Mr. Silvermount!" I says, very affected. 
 "I rully don't know do I care to continue acting at all ! 
 Say, child, I'd rather you'd offer me a real lunch than 
 a fake contract !" 
 
 "Say, Miss Delane, are you crazy, or what?" says 
 the voice. "There is nothing fake about this contract 
 and I got it a luncheon engagement already." 
 
 A terrible cold sensation come over me at that. I 
 don't believe I ever felt sicker; no, not even when I 
 had the measles. 
 
 "Don't tell me you really are Mr. Silvermount?" I 
 says weakly. 
 
 "Who else?" says the voice impatiently. "And you 
 can come at 2 : 30 or not, just as you please."
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 / "T~ V HE receiver was hung up with a snap, and I stag- 
 -*- gered back to my dressing room calling myself 
 fool, idiot, nitwit, and all the other uncomplimentary 
 names I could think of, but getting mighty little com- 
 fort out of doing so. I had sassed the Big Egg him- 
 self, the one person on the lot which everybody was 
 afraid of and treated with respect. My heaven, I had 
 called him Benny! I had called him kid! 
 
 What should I do? That was the point. If I went 
 to the office at 2 : 30 very likely I would be politely 
 kicked out. As a matter of plain fact the more I looked 
 at the jam I was in the clearer it seemed to me that I 
 had wrecked my chance of ever working for Silver- 
 mount again. There would be no good trying to ex- 
 plain, the conversation had been too kind of natural 
 for that. If only it had been any person in the world 
 except Big Benny, the sacred, the upstage iceberg of 
 the picture world ! Sweet daddy, some grief ! 
 
 Slowly I got dressed, forgetting I had ever been 
 hungry and put all my mind on getting home and 
 telling mommer. Oh, boy, it would take courage, for 
 what she would say to me would be enough ! And then 
 just as I was ready to leave, that fresh Eddie, the 
 w.k. call boy, called again, and this time he had a pack- 
 age for me. 
 
 183
 
 184 Laughter Limited 
 
 Well, naturally I thought "Here is that make-up I 
 ordered," because it was that sort of a neat kind of 
 bundle, and I come pretty near not opening it. But then 
 I thought, "Well, I will get out that lipstick; I really 
 need it," and untied the string; and there inside was 
 not the make-up at all, but the cutiest Kewpie doll I 
 ever seen. It was dressed like a bride, mostly veil and 
 smile, and for a second I pretty near forgot my troubles 
 when I seen it. Then I opened the note which lay on 
 top of it, and forgot my trouble entirely if temporarily. 
 The present was from Stricky. 
 
 "Dear B.," he wrote on his card. "Just saw this and 
 thought of you. Hope you will like it. Will you eat 
 with me at Marcelle's to-night at seven? Devotedly 
 Stricky. P. S. I hear you are signing up to be fea- 
 tured by Silvermount. Congratulations !" 
 
 My heart just pumped like an oil well, with richness 
 and pleasure. Dear Stricky ! How cute of him to think 
 of me and send me such a beautiful present! I done 
 the doll up again and tucking it under my arm started 
 for home in a far better state of mind when who in the 
 lower entrance hall would I bump into but Nickolls. 
 
 "Hello there, little Bonnie," says he. "Where are 
 you going with that shining face ?" 
 
 "Oh, my Lord, does it?" I says anxiously, feeling 
 for my powder rag. 
 
 "No, no; your nose looks as if you had been smell- 
 ing a flour barrel !" he says, laughing. "Come on, walk 
 as far as the corner of the boulevard with me. I have 
 an important conference luncheon over at Frank's or 
 I'd run you home."
 
 Laughter Limited 185 
 
 "That's all right," I says, trotting along beside him. 
 "I'd rather walk. I'm reducing!" 
 
 "Good girl, keep full of health!" says he approv- 
 ingly. "For you are going to need it. Tell me, little 
 Bonnie, have you heard anything from Silvermount 
 today?" 
 
 "Yes!" I gasped. "He asked me to come to the 
 office after lunch." 
 
 "Hum !" says Nicky, putting on his lion expression. 
 "I thought likely. Made any agreement with him?" 
 
 "No," I says, so full of grief I couldn't even go into 
 details. 
 
 "I am going to ask something of you, Bonnie," he 
 says, seriously after a little wait, during which we 
 reached the corner of Hollywood Boulevard. "I am 
 going to suggest that no matter what kind of an offer 
 Silvermount makes you this afternoon, you won't close 
 with him until after you have seen me. What time is 
 your appointment ?" 
 
 "Two-thirty," I says. "But I don't believe he will 
 offer me anything except the air." 
 
 "Oh, he'll make a proposition of some kind," says 
 Nicky, still like a lion. "But stall him off until tomor- 
 row. Then when you leave his office, beat it right on 
 up to my bungalow, will you? And bring your mother." 
 
 "Sure !" I says, bewildered. 
 
 "One more thing," says he. "Just don't mention 
 me to Benny, please." 
 
 "All right, Nicky," I says. "So long." 
 
 And then he crossed over and joined a bunch of men 
 in front of Frank's place, and I, hugging my doll,
 
 186 Laughter Limited 
 
 skipped on down to Vine Street to ask mommer what 
 was what. 
 
 At 2 : 30 prompt that afternoon, I having received 
 not alone my chicken sandwich and etc. but a good 
 bawling out from Adele for being such a boob, we 
 both turned up at Mr. Silvermount's office. I was 
 that paralyzed over what I had done I couldn't of pos- 
 sibly spoke, even to announce myself. But fortunately 
 mommer was not the type that is easily let out, and so 
 she says "Mr. Silvermount, by appointment" to the 
 girl in the outer office, with all the manner in the world. 
 The girl got through typing what she was typing, wrote 
 our name on a form, and says "Be seated," so we were, 
 while she opened a big carved teakwood door into the 
 temple, and by and by come out and says Mr. Silver- 
 mount would see us in a few minutes. 
 
 Well, believe me, if them few minutes didn't seem 
 as long as any spent in a dentist office! People came 
 and went, carrying papers and hustling, very busy. 
 Finally a tall thin man come out with a big cigar, 
 biting on it. He went into the room opposite and 
 slammed the door. Then the girl at the desk got up and 
 opened the teakwood for us. 
 
 "All right !" she says, and I'll bet from her cheerful- 
 ness she used to work for a dentist, at that. "All right, 
 Mr. Silvermount will see you now." 
 
 In we went, mommer sailing right ahead like a full- 
 blown ship. Mr. Silvermount was sitting at the far 
 end of a enormous plush office, behind a big shiny desk 
 with everything on it but work, so I suppose he had it 
 there as a kind of fortress. Anyway it was awful large
 
 Laughter Limited 187 
 
 and heavy, with a space under it where he could seek 
 the protecting company of the wastebasket in extreme 
 cases. When he caught sight of mommer I thought at 
 first he was going down to see was the wastebasket 
 really there, but changed his mind and wiggled his 
 cigar at us fiercely, instead. 
 
 "Sit down, sit down," he says with his thumbs. 
 "Have a chair, do!" 
 
 "Thank you," says I. "This is mommer, Mr. Sil- 
 vermount." 
 
 "So I guessed!" says he. "Pleased to meet you, 
 Mrs. Delane. Well, I suppose it is you will do the 
 talking, eh?" 
 
 "Not at all, dear Mr. Silvermount," says mommer 
 smoothly. "I guess we can leave that to you. I just 
 come along to keep my little girl company. My daugh- 
 ter is so young, Mr. Silvermount, only sixteen, and I 
 never leave her go anywheres alone. And so talented, 
 Mr. Silvermount, too. Why, when she was a child, 
 her professors used to say to me " 
 
 "That's all right, what they said, Mrs. Delane," says 
 Big Benny, waving my past to one side like it had been 
 cigar smoke which was about what it was. "What 
 they said don't interest me any," he says. "Beside 
 which, she can say plenty for herself. You should of 
 heard her on the phone this morning!" 
 
 Well, I turned black and white at that, I guess, but 
 I needn't of, because all of a sudden Mr. Silvermount 
 slapped the desk and broke out laughing so hard he had 
 to take the cigar out of his mouth. 
 
 "Mrs. Delane, your er daughter sassed me some-
 
 188 Laughter Limited 
 
 thing awful!" he says as soon as he could speak again. 
 "It was the first time anyone outside of my wife has 
 spoke to me nachural in years ! I thought I would die 
 laffing. Oy ! Ain't we got fun ?" 
 
 "Sweet daddy!" I says. "I didn't mean honest, 
 Mr. Silvermount " 
 
 "Don't you worry !" he says. "I like a girl who can 
 stand on her own feet. Now listen. I got you here 
 because I might consider making you an offer. Mind, 
 I don't want you to get any nonsense in the head about 
 you're a wonder, or anything. But I seen the work 
 you done in The Mischief Maker, Miss Delane, and 
 I think with time and hard work we can make an 
 actress out of you!" 
 
 Believe me, I sat on the edge of my seat then, all 
 ready to jump at anything he should say. But mommer 
 held me back with a look. 
 
 "Now. I am prepared to sign Bonnie up," Silver- 
 mount went on, "for a five-year contract at the same 
 salary she's been getting for this last picture. And 
 what is more, I will feature her in a new line of com- 
 edies. She'll get paid only when working, of course. 
 But I'll write into the agreement that she is to make 
 not less than five pictures a year." 
 
 Well, even now I can hardly imagine my own feel- 
 ings when I heard this. Five years ! With the great 
 Silvermount! Featured! Why, it was too good to 
 be true! Then I remembered my promise to Nicky, 
 and nearly give a groan aloud. Suppose I held out and 
 then for some reason Mr. Silvermount changed his
 
 Laughter Limited 189 
 
 mind and I lost this wonderful chance? Mommer, 
 however, never turned a eyelash, but rushed right at 
 him. 
 
 "Oh, no, Mr. Silvermount, that would never do!" 
 she says very glib. "I'm afraid you don't appreciate 
 my little girl's value. A clever comedienne is the rarest 
 thing in fillums, and she is it. We don't need money, 
 really, and can afford to wait until we get just the 
 right opening." 
 
 "Well, we'll say full salary fifty-two weeks a year, 
 whether she is working or not," says Silver Benny, 
 chewing the cigar again. "How's that?" 
 
 "Well," says mommer, "that's better. But all it 
 really means, Mr. Silvermount, is that if you are pay- 
 ing her you will see to it that she is working. How 
 about one twenty-five a week, full time?" 
 
 "No, Mrs. Delane," he says, "I reached my limit. 
 It ain't like your daughter was a well-known star we 
 are bidding for. We will make her, consider that! 
 At the end of five years she will be some place, what 
 with the training and experience she will get. I don't 
 mind telling you, I think she has got a big future if 
 she will work." 
 
 "I see you think she will be good for five years, 
 anyways," says mommer dryly, getting up and holding 
 out her hand. "Well, Mr. Silvermount, I am going to 
 ask for tonight to think this over. Will that be all 
 right ? I don't want to rush Bonnie into anything. I 
 never did, even when she was a darling little baby!" 
 
 "Very well, I'll hear from you in the morning then,"
 
 190 Laughter Limited 
 
 says Silvermount, opening the door to let us out. "I 
 think you had better say yes, Miss Bonnie. A girl 
 don't get a chance like this every day." 
 
 I could only nod and smile like a dumb-bell as we 
 was shown out, but once on the street I found my voice 
 and let Adele have it. 
 
 "What was you so upstage for?" I cried. "Suppose 
 he changes his mind? What if he gets mad because 
 we put him off. Oh, mommer, I am afraid we you 
 have made a awful mistake !" 
 
 "Shut up, dearie!" says Adele, walking briskly but 
 patting my arm as she drew it through hers. "Just 
 you shut up and leave me run this. It's my business 
 and I know what I'm about. Why do you suppose he 
 wants to tie you up on a five-year contract, unless he 
 thinks you are one of the biggest discoveries in years ? 
 He knows well enough that in two years you are go- 
 ing to have Trixie Trueman wiped off the silver-sheet 
 and will be worth ten times the contract he'd have you 
 tied up on ! Then his sending for you instead of wait- 
 ing until you come around begging for work! It all 
 points to the one thing, dearie. You are started for the 
 big time, and you'll land there quick." 
 
 Of course I could see there was sense in what she 
 said, and had to admit as much, but felt kind of shaky 
 about it too. 
 
 "I wonder what this Nickolls has got up his sleeve," 
 says mommer as we climbed the hilly street towards his 
 bungalow. "Well, we will soon know." 
 
 Nicky's house stood on one of them little ridges of 
 streets that cling like shelves to the Hollywood moun-
 
 Laughter Limited 191 
 
 tains, and end because they just naturally can't climb 
 any higher, and from the brick terrace the view of the 
 city was like fairyland. The tall pepper trees on the 
 sidewalk of the street below brushed this terrace with 
 their tops. It was like being in a bird's nest. You 
 could see for miles and miles, the pink and white and 
 green of the big town, the black spikes of distant oil 
 wells, the purple and blue mountains rolling along to- 
 wards the sea. 
 
 The bungalow was Spanish. Very simple, of con- 
 crete, with a red tiled roof and long windows, and 
 a minute after we rang, Nicky himself opened a door 
 directly into the great enormous room that was 
 practically the whole house. A room as big and simple 
 and ruggedly beautiful as himself. There was a 
 open fireplace at one end and a open grand piano at the 
 other, and a big blue tapestry with a heathen god of 
 some kind embroidered on it, hanging from the iron 
 railing of the stairs which led right up out of this 
 strange room. 
 
 "Hello, girls !" says Nicky. "Come right in. I have 
 had my Jap make iced tea much against his principles 
 and it's just ready! Sit down and be comfortable. 
 These are good cigarettes. Now tell me, what did the 
 old boy say, anyhow?" 
 
 We told him. At least mommer did, and he listened 
 in silence, nodding now and then, or shaking his head 
 in that lion way of his. And he let her get absolutely 
 all through before he spoke. 
 
 "Have some more tea?" he says then. "No? Then 
 let us talk about me for a moment. You must have
 
 192 Laughter Limited 
 
 wondered why I wanted to see you up here. Well, it 
 is because I am leaving Silvermount!" 
 
 Some jolt, that! Why, Nicky leaving Silvermount 
 was hard to grasp. He was part of them. He had been 
 there for years. He was their best man and they told 
 the world he was. He smiled a little when he saw our 
 faces at his announcement. 
 
 "I'm not leaving Benny for another company," he 
 says. "I'm going to make and produce my own pic- 
 tures. I've been wanting to do this for a long time, 
 and I've held out, waiting for just one thing. Now I 
 have found it, and I am going ahead." 
 
 Nicky come over close and drew up a little leather- 
 covered stool and sat on it, hitching himself over to us 
 confidential and earnest. 
 
 "I want to explain the whole situation to you," he 
 says, "but first I want to say something in Benny's 
 favor. The Silvermount practically controls the mo- 
 tion-picture industry today. It is, morally if not actu- 
 ally, a trust. They are the top of the wave, and if 
 you sign with them you will be in with the big-time 
 people, and in pretty fairly right. He is not offer- 
 ing you enough money for what he evidently considers 
 you are worth, but if you sign with him you will get 
 your money. At least it will be as certain as anything 
 in pictures, and I want to be sure you understand what 
 a good thing that is before I go any further. Do 
 you?" 
 
 "Yes, Nicky!" I says breathlessly, because I could 
 feel something big was coming. "Go on and talk, 
 Nicky!"
 
 Laughter Limited 193 
 
 "What I am going to do is this," says he. "I am 
 going to see if it is not possible to make good pictures, 
 and make 'em clean, with a thoroughly honest force. 
 Joe, that splendid camera man, is coming with me, 
 and so is Louie, and I know where I can get one or two 
 others. I'll rent space in the Bunton Studios and work 
 cheap. You have heard me holler about how playing 
 preferences has dry-rotted Silvermount ? Well, there'll 
 be none of that stuff on my lot ! I don't want anybody 
 with me who doesn't understand that thoroughly. 
 There will be no grafts and no favorites !" 
 
 "Good!" says mommer. "When will the funeral 
 be, and do we omit flowers?" 
 
 Nicky laughed. "Why ?" says he. 
 
 "I thought you was talking about going to heaven," 
 says mommer. 
 
 "It's more likely to be hell," says Nicky with a snort. 
 "But I'll get a clean organization if I have to raise just 
 that to get it ! I know my business, and I'm only going 
 to hire people who know theirs." 
 
 He got up again and commenced pacing up and 
 down the long room, clasping and unclasping his hands 
 nervously. 
 
 "Now we come to the point," he says. "I own three 
 scripts by Greyton, the chap who wrote The Mischief 
 Maker. I bought them long ago, before the Silver- 
 mount people could see him at all. They are all first- 
 class comedy material suitable for super features. And 
 the only thing I have been waiting for is the right 
 star." 
 
 He stopped in front of me and smiled that sweet
 
 194 Laughter Limited 
 
 smile of his that would win a heart of stone. But 
 there was nothing slick in his eyes. 
 
 "I have capital enough right now to make one pic- 
 ture," says he. "And the promise of more. Say, little 
 Bonnie, Ben told you one lie today, and that was when 
 he said he'd make a real actress out of you. You are 
 a real actress. You are that strange, unaccountable 
 thing, a genius. I'm willing to gamble my entire stake 
 on it. In other words, I'll give you five hundred a 
 week, sign you for all three pictures at an increase of 
 a hundred a week with each successive picture we 
 make. It's not a fortune as pictures go; but it is all 
 I can honestly offer you." 
 
 "Oh !" I says, getting to my feet like a person in a 
 dream. 
 
 "Little Bonnie," he says, taking my hands, "those 
 stories might have been written for you. And I'm 
 going to star you in them if you'll stick by me !" 
 
 "Nicky, Nicky !" I says. "Don't think I'm kidding, 
 but star or no star, you made me, Nicky, and I'd stick 
 if it was the biggest gamble in the picture game!"
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 A PERSON'S not knowing what experience lies just 
 -**- ahead of them is one of the greatest inconven- 
 iences of life. Take for a sample a boy I know of who 
 got ruined by a saxophone. You see this boy, he was 
 awful anxious to get into the pictures and had made 
 friends with another boy named Eddie, who knew 
 a producer real well. Eddie was going to introduce 
 our hero to this producer sometime, but in the mean- 
 while our friend borrowed a saxophone from him. 
 Well, this Eddie went away on a trip, and our hero 
 thought, well, I believe I will high-finance a saxophone 
 of my own. So he hocked Eddie's saxophone and with 
 part of the money, he paid the first installment on one 
 of his own. He was just learning to play real good, 
 because as he was not working he had plenty of time 
 to practice, when he heard that Eddie had returned 
 sooner than expected. Well, Eddie naturally wanted 
 his saxophone back, so our hero, being broke, had to 
 hock his installment saxophone in order to get his 
 friend's out. Which he done. 
 
 The only trouble was that when the installment col- 
 lector come around there wasn't any installment to pay 
 him with, and when he says why then I will take the 
 instrument, our hero had nothing only a pawn ticket, so 
 the installment man had him put in the cooler. And 
 
 195
 
 196 Laughter Limited 
 
 this day that he went to the cooler happened to be the 
 very day Eddie had it all fixed up for him to meet the 
 producer. Well, he learned to play the saxophone, any- 
 ways. 
 
 Now when I signed up with Nicky to star at five 
 hundred a week the world was my saxophone, so to 
 speak, and it looked like I was going to have lots of 
 chance to learn to play it. 
 
 "This is like it!" says mommer. "What a good 
 thing we didn't close with Silvermount. They say a 
 bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, but I always 
 say, not if you can kill the two birds with one stone!'" 
 
 "Well, now that we are rich," I says, "there is one 
 thing I am going to holler about. No more Mrs. 
 Snifter in our lifes, and, oh sweet daddy; won't I weep 
 at parting from her, just!" 
 
 "It's a real cheap, comfortable little place," says 
 mommer doubtfully. "And we could save against the 
 rainy season/' 
 
 "Say, listen, mommer dear," I says. "This is only 
 April, and what with my contract, the rainy season can't 
 possibly start for five months. What is more, earning 
 the big money which I now am, I feel entitled to get 
 a little fun out of it. Of course I don't intend to lose 
 my head, but I do think we ought to buy a house on 
 time, and also a car on the installment plan. Nothing 
 much, you know. Say an eighteen-room Spanish home 
 and a nice little roadster. I don't care for anything 
 over twelve cylinders for a start." 
 
 "Why, dearie !" says mommer. "After all you said 
 about economy !"
 
 Laughter Limited 197 
 
 "But, mommer, after we start the next picture I will 
 be getting even more !" I explained reasonably. "And 
 when we come to renew the contract, why you know 
 yourself, I will be able to ask for practically anything 
 I want. Hitch your wagon to a star, I say." 
 
 "Well, you know that piece commencing Twinkle, 
 twinkle little star, how I wonder where you are/ " 
 says mommer. "When I was Laura's mother I always 
 used to tell her you can afford to live simple if you got 
 money in the savings bank." 
 
 "Did she act on it?" says I. 
 
 "Well, no," says Adele. 
 
 And after that nothing mommer said could stop me 
 from getting us a few things. She just didn't seem to 
 realize there would be plenty more where this week's 
 pay came from, and so why not enjoy life while a per- 
 son had it? Especially after all the grief we'd been 
 through. And so I set out to grab off a few of this 
 world's best, wondering a little if I would be able to 
 convince the ones I was about to deal with that I was 
 really a star. I even put my contract into my bag when 
 I went looking for my house, thinking maybe it would 
 be necessary to flash it. But not at all. Nicky's an- 
 nouncements had evidently forestalled any more pri- 
 vate personal ones of my own, and the very first real- 
 estate office I went in, the man there knew more about 
 me than I did. 
 
 "Sure, I know you, Miss Delane," says the bird. "I 
 seen your picture in the paper this morning!" 
 
 Whatter you know ! Of course I hated to hear this, 
 and it offended my ears like sweet music or something !
 
 198 Laughter Limited 
 
 My map in the news sheets, and a recognizable pic- 
 ture, at that! Also the real-estate folks treated me 
 with a respect which was all news to me. Up to then 
 I had a idea that if a person was in the pictures every 
 California native son or daughter, or even naturalized 
 lowaian, would consider the fact sufficient grounds for 
 insulting and mistrusting me. However, it seems I had 
 a crooked slant on that subject. Insults was for would- 
 bes, extras and small fry generally. But once let a 
 actress be a star, and sweet daddy, how the flowers did 
 bloom! It was Miss Delane allow me! Would this 
 suit you, Miss Delane, or would you like something 
 better made to order ? Let me charge it, Miss Delane, 
 let me send it, let me carry it, let me this, let me that, 
 until I felt like a cross between the queen of Spain and 
 the Statue of Liberty. 
 
 Every place I'd go it was the same. The clerk at 
 the Laurelwood was the only person I couldn't impress, 
 and I guess he was calloused from rubbing up against 
 celebrities for so long. 
 
 "Well, well, if it isn't Miss Delane!" says he lightly 
 when I dropped by there to see did I have any mail. 
 He had known me as McFadden of course, but nothing 
 got by that bird. "Well, well ! Working for the pic- 
 tures, I see!" 
 
 However, to get a rise out of a hotel clerk was really 
 too much to expect, and the rest of the world made the 
 loss up to me, I'll say it did ! 
 
 The home I finally decided on was not after all a 
 mansion, but the cutest little bungalow imaginable, and 
 I got it close both to Santa Monica Boulevard and the
 
 Laughter Limited 199 
 
 price I was prepared for. I had decided it must be 
 thoroughly modern in every way, and so selected an 
 old Spanish model from a street where a hundred new 
 assorted homes was on the market all at once, most 
 of them finished, or pretty nearly ready to move into, 
 but in spite of that, quite a selection remaining as yet 
 unsold. 
 
 I had a awful time making up my mind between a 
 Italian villa with blue doors and windows and a red 
 roof; a cute little Greek temple, all snow-white with 
 bouquets of flowers done in colored tiles let into the 
 plaster on the outside walls; a light green Early Eng- 
 lish cottage with black and white cross beams and a 
 roof of some kind of patent shingles that, honest, 
 looked pretty nearly like a thatch; and a warm rose- 
 pink stucco Spanish one, with carved redwood window 
 frames, tiled roof and a tiny patio and colonnade where 
 the sweetest assortment of cactus was already set out, 
 just like Ramona's house or something. 
 
 They was all on the same block and I finally fell for 
 the Spanish, paid down a coupla dollars to bind the 
 bargain, and then mommer and me went to furnishing, 
 and here is where I had trouble with mommer right 
 away, because she had set ideas about gilded eucalyptus 
 leaves in the fireplaces, kewpie dolls in the bookcases, 
 and she would keep taking the colored plaster art book 
 ends I had picked up down to a art-gift shop, and put- 
 ting one at each end of the mantel for ornaments. 
 
 "Say listen, mommer dear," I says, "I been raised 
 on the best magazines in the country and I know what 
 is what in interior decoration, and this isn't. I want
 
 200 Laughter Limited 
 
 our home should be refined in every particular, and in 
 thoroughly good taste. So if you don't mind, just 
 lay off, will you, until Baumburger's Home Decoration 
 Department gets here." 
 
 "How do you know they will make a artistic job of 
 it?" says mommer. 
 
 "Well, they ought to," I says. "They been furnish- 
 ing Spanish-style houses complete ever since Mission 
 furniture went cold. Besides, there is a regular 
 formula for Southern California houses in good taste, 
 and once you know it you can't go wrong. Take one 
 refractory table, three shopworn altar cloths, one pair 
 polly-chromo candlesticks, one black velvet rug, four 
 of the most uncomfortable wooden carved chairs you 
 can find, spread thinly about a room with no wall 
 paper over the plaster, and there you are! Perfect 
 Inquisition Period room!" 
 
 "Bah !" says mommer. "Piffle !" 
 
 But she didn't argue any beyond that, not even 
 when I had Casa Delane engraved on the iron door 
 knocker, although I seen her look at it hard for a 
 long while and then register "Cuckoo! Perfectly, 
 absolutely cuckoo!" as she went away. 
 
 But my buying the car was even worse. Mommer 
 was all for a flivver, not alone because she could run 
 one of them herself but on the expense account again. 
 
 "Why, Bonnie dearie!" she says to me. "Don't 
 think I am trying to prevent you from spending your 
 own money. I know there's precious little use in me 
 trying to do that ! But think what them cars can do ! 
 Why, I know a man used his for climbing trees, or so
 
 Laughter Limited 201 
 
 he claimed. And they say that you get sixty miles to 
 the gallon, and a pair of shoes last four years." 
 
 "Well, the kind of car I'm going to get," I says 
 firmly, "would take a gallon sixty miles a minute if 
 I was in the bootlegging business, and as for shoes, 
 the only shoes that ever lasted me four years was a 
 pair of pink knitted bedroom slippers my old chum 
 Ella give me for Christmas one year, and the reason 
 they wore so good is because I never put them on. No, 
 mommer dear, if there is one thing a successful picture 
 actress is known for it is her car. And the one I am 
 going to have will be a humdinger !" 
 
 I had made up my mind that my car should be in 
 every way distinguished and handsome, and believe me 
 it took some shopping to find exactly what I wanted 
 a boat that was both refined and individual and still 
 in good taste, yet unmistakably expensive. But at 
 last I settled on a Alpine twin-six. 
 
 Well, this car was sure some boat. It was painted 
 snow-white with solid brass disk wheels and crimson 
 genuine morocco leather upholstery, and it had the 
 cutest, most complete equipment I ever seen, from a 
 solid silver eight-day clock to ash trays, cigarette 
 lighter, cigarette box, vanity case, a place to keep my 
 veils, and a horn like the Angel Gabriel. It was real 
 practical, too, for it had a double windshield to keep 
 the persons in the back seat from hearing what the two 
 on the front seat said. 
 
 I believe it also had a engine of some kind, because 
 the lovely talker who sold me it lifted up the hood 
 and gabbled about it quite a lot, but all I come away
 
 202 Laughter Limited 
 
 with was the general idea that the bus had a head- 
 involved engine, double irritation, four speeds and 
 one standstill, or something of the kind. 
 
 Well, when I had bought this bus, and paid the first 
 installment on it, I kind of went easy about what else 
 I let myself in for, and got very little more. Of 
 course the furniture in the house, including an electric 
 piano, was on time, and so I merely bought myself a 
 wrist watch with only quite small diamonds in it, and 
 one good-looking ring to wear on my contract-signing 
 hand. You maybe have noticed that if the hand which 
 stretches out the old self-filler to make its mark on the 
 sign-here line wears a diamond, the papers are gen- 
 erally made out accordingly. Anyways, I got me 
 these bare necessities, and then I quit, except for a few 
 charge accounts here and there. 
 
 Meanwhile of course I was riot spending all my time 
 in the stores. Nicky had rented space on the Brunton 
 lot, right near Pickford, and we was, during odd mo- 
 ments, making our first picture. The name of it was 
 Alias Cinderella, who was me, and it was a scream, 
 some of it modern and some of it taking place back 
 in Middling Evil times in Merry England, and right 
 away Nicky was in trouble, just like an old-time pro- 
 ducer, on account of a unprecedented thing happening. 
 The extras struck. 
 
 Of course they was not common extras, but a bunch 
 of cow-punchers. In the pictures practically all riding 
 scenes are done by punchers in various costumes, and 
 in the big mob scene in Cinderella the punchers Nicky 
 had hired was dressed up in winter-weight suits of
 
 Laughter Limited 203 
 
 armor, with helmets and all, and the trouble come out 
 of the fact of the armor being so heavy that for the 
 first time in their lifes these ptfnchers couldn't get on 
 their horses without being helped, and they took it as 
 a personal insult from Nicky. 
 
 Well, while Nicky was straightening this fight out 
 I had time to get my dressing room at the studio fixed, 
 and believe me, I had some shack. The system was 
 different over here, and the stars each had a bungalow 
 to theirselves, and I was no exception. A modest 
 young couple could of gone housekeeping in mine 
 real comfortable, for I had a sitting room with a fire- 
 place in it, a rest room with a bed, a big dressing room 
 and bath, and the cutest kitchenette ever, where mom- 
 mer would fix up lunch every day for Nicky and her 
 and me and usually Greg Strickland, and often as not 
 one or two others, including Slim Rolf, who was now 
 our publicity director, and my old friend from Stoney- 
 brook, Bert Green. 
 
 It was over Bert that I and Nicky had our first and 
 only fight because a promise is a promise and I had 
 made one to Bert and was going to keep it at any price. 
 So as soon as Nicky had hired his space I wrote home 
 to Bert. 
 
 "Dear Bert," I wrote. "Well, here I am a star, and 
 I want you to take the first train out here and be 
 still-camera man with this concern. Dear old Bert, I 
 will sure be glad to see you, this is no joke, Bert, but 
 a real offer and I will see that you get the right sort 
 of money. So come at once, but please do not tell 
 pop one thing about me but inclosed find fifty dollars
 
 204 Laughter Limited 
 
 ($50) which you might lend him from yourself, see, 
 because I know he needs it, but do not tell him you 
 heard from me or where I am." 
 
 Well, when I had posted this letter and couldn't 
 get it back, I went and broke the news to Nicky, and 
 right then we had this row I am telling you about 
 
 "Didn't I tell you I was not going to have any of 
 that sort of thing on this lot?" Nicky shouted at me. 
 "Didn't you agree to it? That's what ruins the picture 
 business. It's a damn outrage, and I won't stand for 
 it!" 
 
 "All right, go ahead and fire me!" I says. "But 
 Bert will make good, and a promise is a promise. If 
 you don't want me any more, just say so, and I can 
 go back to Silver-mount Especially after the morn- 
 ing's papers." 
 
 Well, that was true enough. Because The Mis- 
 chief Maker had been released in New York the week 
 before and it had turned out to be a ten-strike with fully 
 nine of the strikes in my favor. Heaven knows I 
 hadn't meant to do Trixie Trueman any dirt after all 
 her kind generosity to me, but then, I couldn't very 
 well do myself a mean trick either, and I had acted 
 the very best I knew how in the piece. So when it 
 come out that I had walked away with the picture, 
 why it was not really my fault if I was so good. All 
 the papers without exception had said I was a won- 
 derful actress and had a great future, and my mail was 
 swamped with letters not alone from milliners, and so 
 forth, but agencies and a couple of casting directors, 
 and so naturally I felt I could stand on my own feet
 
 Laughter Limited 205 
 
 and that the shoe was on the other foot, and so forth. 
 But for all that I couldn't scare Nicky or make him 
 back down for one minute, even. 
 
 "All right !" says he grimly. "Go on. I'll let you 
 out if you wish. Because I won't have anybody on 
 my lot who isn't contented." 
 
 "Oh, Nicky, I don't really want to go!" I says 
 weakly. "And if Bert ain't the best still-photographer 
 at the Brunton you can fire the both of us. I wouldn't 
 wish a clown on to you, Nicky, you ought to know 
 that!" 
 
 "Augh!" he grunted, still mad, and walked away. 
 
 But when Bert showed up, long nose, black ribband 
 and nervous eyeglasses, all just the same as ever, 
 Nicky come around to thinking the same as I did, and 
 soon we was all friends again. 
 
 Things was different about Strick, although it was 
 not me hired him, but John Austin Nickolls his own 
 self. Strick had been pretty good in The Mischief 
 Maker, and this prince-charming part suited him first- 
 rate. So Nicky signed him up quite uninfluenced by 
 me, because all I had said to him was that Strick fed 
 me well, and that he would be perfectly cast in the 
 part, and that everybody else Nicky suggested made 
 me nervous and I didn't know could I play opposite 
 them, and a few little things like that. Nicky listened 
 while I pulled this line, smiling his sweet smile, and 
 honest, a person would of thought I was a puppy he 
 was having a lot of patience with, or something, the 
 way he waited until I got all through, just merely 
 shaking his lion's mane indulgently now and then.
 
 206 Laughter Limited 
 
 "I don't like that boy," says he at last. "I think 
 he's a bad actor." 
 
 "Oh, no, Nicky !" I says. "He's a wonderful actor, 
 really, and he has a great future!" 
 
 "You know what I mean perfectly well," says Nicky. 
 "He can act adequately, and I'm going to hire him 
 because he looks the part and has good legs. But he's 
 a hard-boiled ham and a pup and I don't like him. He 
 offends me. So does the smell of developing fluid, and 
 I have to use both in this business. But I trust you 
 will admit I don't have to like 'em eh?" 
 
 Well, naturally, I didn't make any remarks about 
 that. I couldn't, somehow, because I liked Nicky, and 
 although fond of Strick I couldn't prove that he was 
 any saint. However, he was to be my leading juvenile, 
 so I should worry! 
 
 It ain't often that a person finds heaven on earth, 
 but these weeks of making Cinderella come pretty 
 near to being that, and I sure had a wonderful time, 
 flying all over the country in my big white car, Stricky 
 driving it for me practically every day, and on Sun- 
 days going with him and mommer and dear old Bert 
 down to Riverside Inn for lunch, or the four of us 
 loafing away the day at the beach under bright um- 
 brellas, wearing just our bathing suits, meeting every- 
 body in the motion-picture world, and having a big 
 time generally. 
 
 Week days was different, though, and partially 
 through mommer's influence, but mostly of my own 
 accord, there was no night life for me. Day after day 
 I would work hard as I knew how for Nicky and his
 
 Laughter Limited 207 
 
 stake in me, but principally for my own art, and was 
 never so happy as then. Often of a evening I would 
 come back to the studio after dinner and sit in with 
 my director while we worked the technical force over- 
 time, running the rushes over and over, cutting titling 
 and criticizing. Sometimes we would stay on until 
 eleven o'clock or later, and go home dead but happy, 
 growing daily more sure that we was making one of 
 the finest special features that had ever been turned 
 out. It was hard, and at times awful discouraging, 
 what with difficulties coming up and so forth. But in 
 the main the stuff was good. We was always sure of 
 that, especially one scene where I held up a burglar 
 with a revolver. 
 
 "Say, listen, Nicky," I says one evening. "I wouldn't 
 be surprised if some night I had to play that same 
 scene at home. There's been a lot of burglaries out in 
 our district lately, and I even heard one of the girls 
 was held up in her car and had her diamonds taken 
 away from her!" 
 
 "Practically obliged to go home in a barrel, I sup- 
 pose," says Nicky. "Better get yourself a gun, little 
 Bonnie. It's not a bad idea for two women alone in a 
 house to have one handy, especially way out in those 
 new developments." 
 
 "I think I'll just take the one I'm using in the picture 
 home to-night," I says, "and borrow it until I can think 
 to buy one." 
 
 "That's a good hunch," says Nicky. "Take it along. 
 It happens to be my own, and you are welcome to it." 
 
 Well, I felt a lot easier at night after that, and if
 
 208 Laughter Limited 
 
 any burglar was one-half as scared of that gun as I 
 was, well, they would let our house alone, that was a 
 cinch! Stricky also had been worried over me being 
 alone in the house with only mommer, and he was re- 
 lieved when I told him about it one Sunday afternoon. 
 We was going out to the beach together, so naturally 
 I didn't take it, but showed him where I had it parked 
 in the drawer of a Early Spanish kitchen cabinet we 
 had in our parlor. 
 
 "Gee, that's a pretty gun," says he. "Look at that 
 inlay, will you! Say, listen, Bonnie, is it practical?" 
 
 "Sure," I says. "Didn't you see me shooting blanks 
 with it at old Joe in the burglar sequence?" 
 
 "This the same one ?" says Strick as I put it away in 
 the drawer again. "Funny I didn't notice it at the 
 studio; it is certainly some gun! I wish it was mine." 
 
 Well, of course I would have given it to him if I 
 had owned it, because the way I felt towards Stricky by 
 now, he could of had anything I owned just for the 
 asking, including myself. But he wasn't the marrying 
 kind, I knew that, while hoping all the time that he 
 would change. And although he certainly was sweet 
 with me, and come around a lot and ate practically 
 every meal at our house, and I went everywheres with 
 him, not a murmur about wedding bells had come from 
 him so far. You know how it is. If you like a person 
 awful well and can't keep from showing it, the chances 
 are they will like you all the less; the faster you ad- 
 vance the faster they retreat, and I was getting so dizzy 
 with loving him that I couldn't see straight any more 
 when he was around.. The situation was rapidly get-
 
 Laughter Limited 209 
 
 ting Adele's goat, and she used to hang a lot of crape 
 about it. 
 
 "Why, Bonnie dearie, I can't imagine what you see 
 in him," she says. "That is, outside of his good looks. 
 I think that some day you will be sorry you know him. 
 Act with him if you must, but off the lot for heaven's 
 sake lay off him ! Or mark my words, you will regret 
 it. I been in the industry long enough to tell a bad 
 young man when I see one, and I'm telling you !" 
 
 Well naturally, after the number of years she had 
 been a mother to all them many daughters, mommer 
 had ought to of known better than to spring a line of 
 that kind on me, because like any other girl in love, the 
 more dirt was peddled to me about Strick, why the 
 stronger for him I got. He was such a pleasure to look 
 at, and why everybody should pick on him was more 
 than I could tell, and I was as jealous as a cat if he so 
 much as looked at anybody else. And give him things ? 
 Say, I'd of given Stricky anything in the world except 
 footage in the camera!
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 OF course when it come to holding the center of the 
 lens I was as self -protective as any other going 
 concern. And the author of the story, Mr. Harold 
 Greyton, and me had considerably different views on 
 the subject of what scenes I was to have, and how 
 many. Nicky, thank the Lord, was with me, but be- 
 tween us Mr. Greyton had his hands full. 
 
 These Greytons, for they was two of them, man 
 and wife, were at this time the only flies in my rice 
 pudding. I was sitting on the top of the world crow- 
 ing, but whenever either of them come on the lot I had 
 to lay off. Not but that Mr. Greyton was always po- 
 lite. He was, excepting of course when talking to 
 Nicky about what Nicky was doing to his story. But 
 as far as I personally was concerned Mr. Greyton had 
 the manner of a regular duke. That was what got my 
 goat. 
 
 For you see. up to the time the Greytons commenced 
 overrunning our lot I thought I had a lot of class. 
 Some dog I put on, and the very minute I come in con- 
 tact with them people I see that I had been bulling my- 
 self. I was inferior in social manners, and in my heart 
 I realized it. I had for a moment supposed that be- 
 cause I was a star I was on the topside of things, but 
 now I seen I was wrong. There was in pictures a so- 
 cial layer that I hadn't even touched as yet a class 
 
 210
 
 Laughter Limited 211 
 
 which spoke like Boston, dressed like New York and 
 lived like Philadelphia. The women, like Trixie and 
 some other prominent stars I had seen, wore only a 
 little powder and no other make-up when off the 
 lot; they spoke quiet; their cars was dark and no 
 snap to them, but only a sort of appearance that made 
 my big white boat all wrong somehow. What these 
 folks did outside of playing golf and riding horse- 
 back, and maybe running a ranch back in the valley 
 somewheres, I didn't know. I was missing something, 
 I wasn't sure just what, but only that it was the real 
 big-time performance and that it was going on behind 
 closed doors. I might be a star, but I needed a lot of 
 polishing up before I could shine properly among the 
 gang the Greytons played with. 
 
 Of course I got a certain line on what to do, just 
 from hearing the Greytons talk. They, and even some 
 of the big stars, read books and everything. Well, I 
 could do that, and play golf, as well, if that would help 
 on my refinement. So I got me a coupla books and a 
 golf suit of black and white checks with knickers, and 
 a set of clubs in a real genuine cowhide bag. But 
 owning that cowhide was the nearest I come to any 
 browsing on the green grass for a while, on account of 
 working so hard. 
 
 One thing that the big eggs was doing I could do, 
 and that was to take a little of the course in diction 
 that a young Harvard College boy was giving. He 
 come to my Spanish Fandango one evening a week, 
 and fed me the English language. It seems all the rich 
 hams who had graduated to a butler and other high-
 
 212 Laughter Limited 
 
 class discomforts of refined living was also taking 
 these lessons from him under the name of dramatic 
 expression, while what he was really doing was learn- 
 ing them to talk straight. But after two weeks I grad- 
 uated of my own accord, and paid him for the course 
 in full. 
 
 "I tell you what, buddy," I says to him, "I guess I 
 have now learned enough accent to get me by during 
 a introduction or a interview, or to enable me to floor 
 any fresh female I may happen to run into, and that is 
 all I need. Some day when I am less busy I may again 
 try to pry off enough of a cure to keep me from having 
 a relapse, but just now I got my art to think about." 
 
 You see, I knew that I would get to the top more on 
 my work than anything else, and it was a healthy thing 
 for me to realize in time I was not actually there yet 
 by any means. And believe me, although climb as you 
 may, there is always a higher place beyond, to any true 
 artist. Meanwhile the Greytons continued to get my 
 angora. 
 
 As I have mentioned, I and he had different ideas 
 about the picture. There was a young boy's part in it 
 that had some good sequences, and I couldn't see why 
 they should not be turned over to me. But it seems 
 Mr Greyton could see several million reasons why not, 
 without even looking. Finally I went to Nicky about it, 
 and Nicky just threw his hands in the air the very 
 minute I started my line of argument. 
 
 "Authors!" he roared like a lion. "Don't talk to me 
 about authors! What does he know about a screen 
 version of his story? Nothing, absolutely nothing!
 
 Laughter Limited 213 
 
 But can you make him believe that ? I should say not ! 
 I've bought this story, and I'll do what I damn please 
 with it!" 
 
 "So you think I'm right, don't you, Nicky?" I says. 
 
 "Of course you are right!" he says. "What we are 
 doing is putting a little pep and punch into his script. 
 We've even had to change the plot. Say, the only plot 
 that chap has is in the cemetery! And yet he yaps 
 around here all day about 'my story, my beautiful 
 story.' By heaven, when he sees this picture finished 
 he won't know he had anything to do with it. He 
 won't even recognize it! And if we made it like his 
 stuff the theater would be empty before the end of the 
 second reel !" 
 
 "What can you do about it, Nicky?" I says. "Can't 
 you chain him up or something? He's got us worried 
 nearly to death sticking around the set all the time." 
 
 "Don't tell me !" says Nicky. "I've noticed that quite 
 plainly." 
 
 He got thoughtful for a moment, scratching his 
 curls in that funny way he had. 
 
 "I've got it !" he says at last. "I'll give him an office ! 
 One with a desk in it and a big chair. Then he'll think 
 he has to stay there or lose his dignity, and he can sit in 
 it from now to Kingdom Come, keeping the furniture 
 from running away, and otherwise elevating the mo- 
 tion pictures. That'll cage him !" 
 
 And Mr. Author Grey ton fell for it, too, just like 
 Nicky had predicted. We gave him a little room in 
 one of the main buildings, hitched a typewriter in it, 
 a roll-top desk, and a roll-back chair, and pretty nearly
 
 214 Laughter Limited 
 
 any time we passed the window we could see the author 
 inside, using his desk for all it was worth. By which 
 I mean to say his feet was on it, and he would be hard 
 at work reading the sporting page of some newspaper. 
 But it kept him off the lot. 
 
 Well, struggling with authors and other trials, we 
 still managed to get in considerable work, making a 
 million-dollar production for less than three hundred 
 thousand dollars, or so it seemed around the fourth 
 week. We was all rejoicing at how good it looked. 
 Taking things by and large, they was about as large as 
 anybody could desire. And then, like a delicious des- 
 sert at the end of a grand meal, I woke up one morn- 
 ing like Lord Byron, to find my pictures plastered all 
 over Los Angeles and neighborhood. The Mischief 
 Maker was to have its California opening at Grauman's, 
 and in spite of all mention to the contrary my name 
 was on the sheets. The paper read like this : 
 
 THE MISCHIEF MAKER 
 
 FEATURING 
 
 TRIXIE TRUEMAN, GREGORY STRICKLAND 
 BONNIE DELANE 
 
 AND 
 THE FAMOUS SILVERMOUNT COLLIH 
 
 FLUFF 
 IF IT'S A SUPER-PRODUCTION, IT*S A 
 
 SILVERMOUNT 
 
 And there was me in every poster. And these 
 posters sure was original, for the main one showed
 
 Laughter Limited 215 
 
 me with tangled curls and the bucket of suds, not beer 
 but the kind that goes down the sink ; my floor mop, my 
 solemn admiring face turned sort of worshipping on 
 Trixie in her grand furs, and Stricky standing by, 
 slapping his riding breeches with a riding whip. 
 
 I saw the first one when mommer asked me early in 
 the morning would I please run down to the nearest 
 market and get some butter for breakfast, she had for- 
 got to ? And I had not wanted to go, but got out the 
 bus and went because mommer had a way of being 
 obeyed. And when I parked on Hollywood Boulevard 
 there was a board fence next to the market, and here 
 this fence was absolutely covered with me ! Well, how 
 long I stayed parked there, heaven only knows, but it's 
 a wonder a cop didn't get after me. I just sat and 
 looked at myself and looked and looked. Anybody 
 would of thought they was no mirrors at home. And 
 no regular art gallery ever gave me the kick that open- 
 air Hollywood one did. 
 
 Of course I even then knew them posters was not 
 real art, because I had seen postals of the Sistine Ma- 
 donna and the Broken Pitcher and Rheims Cathedral 
 and so forth, pop having carried quite a line of them 
 at Christmas time. And besides, these posters was in- 
 teresting, which of course let them out of the art class. 
 But art or none, sweet daddy, they looked good to me ! 
 
 Well, I rushed right home when I come out of my 
 trance, but without the butter. 
 
 "Mommer!" I shouted. "I'm going to be at Grau- 
 man's, and they got me featured !" 
 
 Well, mommer came out of the electric kitchen, which
 
 216 Laughter Limited 
 
 we had done perfect in the Late Los Angelean period 
 because mommer refused to stand for anything antique 
 in that direction ; well, she came out of it with a bunga- 
 low apron on over her rich street clothes, and her cap 
 over her perfectly waved hair, her face all glad and 
 excited over my news. 
 
 "My Lord, ain't that grand!" she says. "Bonnie 
 dearie, we will of course have to give a big theater 
 party the opening night !" 
 
 Well, mommer knew the correct social ropes, so I 
 not in the least reluctantly consented, and we sure did 
 have some party! Nicky asked the crowd over to his 
 bungalow at six o'clock for sandwiches and cocktails, 
 because it is really better form to see the first show, 
 which starts at seven, and eat afterwards. 
 
 There was Stricky and mommer and me and Bert 
 and several others especially interested, including Mr. 
 and Mrs. Greyton, all of us of course in full evening 
 clothes and all our jewels. And when a little later we 
 stood in line out on the sidewalk while Nicky bought a 
 couple of yards of tickets I sure was proud of our ap- 
 pearance. And once inside, in our lounge, I kept on 
 being proud, for even in that magnificent-looking bunch 
 of people we stood out. 
 
 They say that in the old days the Metropolitan Opera 
 House, New York City, on an opening night had the 
 finest display of jewelry and dresses of any place in 
 the country. Now of course the opening night of a 
 big feature fillum has that out-of-date opera stuff 
 backed off the map. Picture people have jewels that 
 really amount to something, and of course dressing is
 
 Laughter Limited 217 
 
 with them a part of their profession. I felt sure that 
 there had never been anything like the display at Grau- 
 man's, pulled off at the little old Metropolitan. And 
 when I asked Mr. Greyton, who is a New Yorker, if 
 that was the case, he says why certainly there was never 
 anything like it at any opera he ever saw. 
 
 Well, sweet daddy, here I was not alone sitting in at 
 one of the big social features, but featured at it! 
 Pretty poor, I'll say not! And the picture went over 
 big, those in the audience clapping when their friends 
 showed on the screen, the same as the first entrance in 
 a speaking theater, but in as intimate a tone as the home 
 folks greeting friend daughter's appearance on a Stony- 
 brook Dramatic Club night. I hardly knew where I 
 was, it was like a dream or something with Bert sit- 
 ting one side of me, his glasses falling off his nose 
 and saying, "Immense! Immense!" just like the old 
 days except for perfect evening clothes, and on my 
 other side Mr. Greyton murmuring some polite dope 
 once in a while. And then during the intermission I 
 caught sight of Mr. Silvermount himself in a loge 
 across the way. 
 
 He had Trixie and Anita with him and a couple of 
 Johns, and for a minute I didn't know would he bow 
 or not. But he did, and not alone bowed but waved 
 and smiled as well. Not so Trixie, but what could a 
 person expect ? I was all set for her to look the other 
 way, because every time I had telephoned her lately 
 she had been out, even when she answered the phone 
 herself. 
 
 How Benny Silvermount would act had been doubt-
 
 218 Laughter Limited 
 
 f ul up to then. Not that he especially cared about me, 
 or so I then supposed, but everybody was talking of 
 how hard he had taken Nickolls' leaving him, so I 
 thought maybe I would be in very wrong, too, on ac- 
 count of being with Nicky. But evidently I was on 
 bowing terms, and so I bowed and smiled back, and 
 folks in the audience looked, and some recognized me 
 and there was actually a little clapping, but I couldn't 
 of got up and bowed like mommer wanted me, to save 
 my life. 
 
 Well, the picture going over so big, we made a cele- 
 bration of it, getting over to Marcel's to dinner about 
 quarter to ten o'clock, and dancing until closing, and 
 when I got home I thought thank Gawd I do not have 
 to work to-morrow. Nicky will be making mob scenes 
 and I can sleep, and so fell into bed to dream, but never 
 dreaming of what would happen next day.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 VI7HEN I woke up it was early afternoon, and 
 mommer was standing by me with a cup of 
 coffee and a bran biscuit, which hearty meal was all 
 she ever let me have for breakfast. 
 
 "Sorry I have to wake you up, Bonnie dear," she 
 says. "Sleep is so good for your face. But Mr. Silver- 
 mount telephoned he was running out to see you on 
 important private business, and I think you better get 
 up !" 
 
 "Benny Silvermount coming here !" I says. "What 
 can he want !" 
 
 "I dunno!" says mommer. "But leave him come! 
 They say you'd better be off with the old love before 
 you're on with the new, but I always say, suppose you 
 get off with the old, and then the new love don't come 
 across ?" 
 
 "Oh, mommer, how you talk!" I says. "I am going 
 to stay with Nicky forever !" 
 
 But I scrambled out of the hay mighty pronto, just 
 the same, and was barely ready by the time Big Ben 
 parked his queer-looking foreign boat against our curb, 
 and Benny, who was alone, jazzed our antique knocker. 
 
 "Mrs. Delane, I want to talk to Miss McFadden 
 alone, if you please," he says as he come in. 
 
 "Oh, very well!" says mommer. "I am sure my 
 219
 
 220 Laughter Limited 
 
 daugh-ter Well, if you will just excuse me, please, 
 I got something to attend to upstairs!" And that is 
 the nearest to floored I ever seen mommer. The min- 
 ute the door was shut on her Benny come down to brass 
 tacks. I could see he was dead serious. 
 
 "Look here Miss Delane!" he says. "Are you 
 stuck on Nickolls?" 
 
 "I am not!" I says. "But I don't see how it would 
 be your affair, Mr. Silvermount, if I was!" 
 
 "Humph, that's good!" he says. "It makes things 
 a whole lot simpler. How long are you tied up to 
 him for?" 
 
 "Three pictures," I says. 
 
 "Too many!" says he. "Break your contract and 
 come back to us. I'll give you double whatever he's 
 paying you !" 
 
 Well, for a minute I thought he was cuckoo or 
 something. But Benny Silvermount was the least 
 cuckoo man in Hollywood, anybody knew that. His 
 eyes was like steel gimlets, and I felt as if he could see 
 my backbone. It sort of had me stopped, and for a 
 minute I couldn't speak. Not so Benny. 
 
 "Look here, Miss Bonnie, I am a man of few words/* 
 he says. "I want you back. I'll pay to get you. 
 The Mischief Maker will clean up a couple of million 
 or I don't know this business. Silvermount Produc- 
 tions made that picture and made you. It is your duty 
 to come back." 
 
 Well, that last brought me down to earth and I 
 found my voice. 
 
 "No, Mr. Silvermount, you did not make that pic-
 
 Laughter Limited 221 
 
 ture," I says. "John Austin Nickolls made it, and 
 you know he did. You fought him tooth and nail and 
 every step while he was shooting it too. You held him 
 up on the money end, you didn't believe in it, and you 
 said so, real free. The picture made me, all right, but 
 it was Nicky made the picture and I'd never of been on 
 the screen if it hadn't been for him, and I'll stick to 
 him, you bet I will !" 
 
 "So I didn't make that picture eh?" says Silver- 
 mount, never moving his sharp eyes from me. 
 
 "No !" I says hotly. "You peddled somebody else's 
 brains, that's all !" 
 
 Silver-mount got up and took his hat. Then he come 
 and stood close to me. 
 
 "You are a good girl, Bonnie," he says, "but you're 
 a fool. However, I will take you back any time. As 
 
 for Nickolls " And when he says Nickolls, Gee, 
 
 how his map did change! It got suddenly wrinkled 
 and ugly like a baboon, and the steel-blue lights in his 
 eyes was like knives. 
 
 "Nickolls!" he shouted, all the rage that had evi- 
 dently been slowly cooking for weeks bursting out of 
 him. "I'll break the idiot ! I'll wreck him so hard he 
 won't never know what hit him ! I made that feller, 
 I tell you. Took him when he was a mere nothing, a 
 young kid starving around town, glad to be assistant 
 camera man at fifty a week ! I trained him and saw he 
 was a genius, gave him publicity, a big name every- 
 thing! And now look what he done to me. But I'll 
 fix him for it! I could kill him with my hands for 
 what he done. You watch out, and when the smash
 
 222 Laughter Limited 
 
 comes you'll be glad to jump from under, and jump my 
 way!" 
 
 "We can't fail!" I says. "This picture we are mak- 
 ing is a great picture. It'll go over big. You can't 
 stop it from succeeding, Mr. Silvermount !" 
 
 "Can't I stop it, though!" says he, still furious. 
 "You just watch, that's all !" 
 
 And with them words he beat it out, slamming the 
 door behind him, and for a few minutes I listened to 
 the roar of the big foreign car as it rumbled off down 
 the street. I was actually shaking with excitement and 
 rage, and I guess maybe I was a little hysterical, too, 
 for I got the cuckoo idea that Big Ben really meant 
 what he had said about killing Nickolls. The idea, once 
 in my bean, got my goat thoroughly, and by instinct I 
 went over to the old dresser where I kept Nickolls' gun. 
 He ought to have it back again. I pulled open the 
 drawer. The gun was not there. 
 
 For a moment I thought I must of put it some place 
 else, and then I remembered clearly how I had put it 
 back last night my own self. Adele hadn't moved it, 
 that was sure, she was too scared of the blame thing. 
 There was only one other person knew I had it, and 
 where I kept it. And as I stood leaning on the empty 
 drawer and wondering, mommer's voice preceded her 
 down the stairs. 
 
 "Is Mr. Silvermount gone ?" she called. "Say, Bon- 
 nie, I forgot to tell you. While you was asleep this 
 morning Stricky come over and ate breakfast with me. 
 My! Won't he be surprised when he hears how Sil- 
 vermount was here !"
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 T SUPPOSE it is the ambition of pretty near every 
 -* honest working girl to have moving-picture mag- 
 nates fighting over her ; and to be in the position where 
 she can spurn the gold of any producer, however hum- 
 ble, is pretty near enough to turn the head of a marble 
 statue. 
 
 "But when I was Helen Murrell's mother," says 
 mommer, talking my position over, "I used to try and 
 keep her head down to normal so's she could buy her 
 hats standard misses' size. They say pride comes be- 
 fore a fall, but I always say not unless you are a fall- 
 guy in the first place. Bonnie dearie, keep your heart 
 humble I" 
 
 Well, of course I loved mommer and all that. In 
 fact I loved her so nearly like I would a real mother 
 that I didn't pay the attention to her good advice I 
 might of. I had by now got so used to her that she 
 was a part of the family, so to speak, so naturally what 
 she said to me was for the most part like rolling stones 
 off a duck's back or something, what with things com- 
 ing my way like they were. I don't mean Silvermount 
 alone either, but presents, attentions and so forth, al- 
 though of course Big Benny's offer was the subject of 
 considerable conversation with us for a while. 
 
 "Bonnie, little Bonnie, I suppose some day I shall 
 lose you!" says Nickolls, half laughing, half in earnest, 
 
 when I had told him about it. 
 
 223
 
 224 Laughter Limited 
 
 "Lose me?" I says. "How do you get that way? 
 Not for any reason on earth ! Say, Nicky, I'm nervous 
 about Big Benny, though. He wouldn't actually try to 
 hurt you, would he?" 
 
 "Benny?" says Nickolls, shaking his lion's head and 
 roaring with laughter. "Say! That bird wouldn't 
 strike a flea for fear of scratching his diamond rings 
 on it!" 
 
 Well, that idea comforted me a lot and as time went 
 along and nothing happened, why I kind of forgot just 
 how rough my interview with Silvermount had been. 
 Every day brought the Cinderella picture nearer its 
 finish, and on the side I was swamped by all these in- 
 vitations I am telling you about, including even one to 
 dinner at the Greytons', which was a dry affair, more 
 ways than one, and they actually played charades after. 
 A person might as well of been back home in Stony- 
 brook ! 
 
 Of all the presents which perfect strangers com- 
 menced sending me for as a rule advertising purposes, 
 but mutually so, the one which give me the biggest kick 
 was not a case of homemade hootch of which Axel was 
 the proud author, but a flock of real estate that was 
 wished on me by a hot A-i livewire real-estate de- 
 velopment company. The goof which had this bright 
 idea of giving me it had a mind trimmed with saxo- 
 phones, a suit you could of played several kinds of 
 games on, and other outward and visible signs of pep 
 and enterprise. But there was nothing to laugh at in 
 the deed he brought me.
 
 Laughter Limited 225 
 
 The day he packed it around we was all seated at the 
 luncheon table in my dressingroom bungalow over to 
 the studio Bert, mommer, Trixie, who was now sud- 
 denly speaking to me again since I was out of Silver- 
 mount for good and all, Axel, who had a heavy part 
 in our picture, for he was driving the coach which dis- 
 solved into a pumpkin and back again, and we had a 
 trained white rat doubling for him in the pumpkin 
 footage. Well anyways, Axel was there, Stricky, of 
 course, and one or two others, all crowded around the 
 two-by-four table, having the usual picture actor's menu 
 of cigarettes, black coffee and lettuce salad without oil, 
 when in comes this bird Al Something and says the 
 Arroyo del Rey Real Estate Company was opening up 
 a new high-class residence district and with their com- 
 pliments presented me with a lot in it. It seemed this 
 development was out on the Someplace, and was cer- 
 tainly fast-growing because it already had one 
 house and a real-estate office on it, which only left a 
 thousand acres to be sold into hundred- foot lots, or 
 bigger. 
 
 Well, at first of course we all thought this bird Al 
 must be kidding, because out in Southern California a 
 development of that or any other kind is liable to be- 
 come a thriving city by the same month next year, and 
 a piece of property in one is a real sure-enough present, 
 no fooling! But no, he meant it, and the gift was not 
 a ordinary lot, but a five acre ranch with a house 
 on it. 
 
 "It's a cute little Mission-style two room bungalow,
 
 226 Laughter Limited 
 
 Miss Delane," says this Al, "with old vines on it, and 
 real old trees must be eight or ten years old, some of 
 those trees. And there is a fine little olive orchard 
 planted to the one side of the house!" 
 
 "Good-land !" says mommer, seizing the deed to this 
 property and smelling of it, and she come pretty near 
 biting it, even, to make sure it was real. "What on 
 earth does Bonnie have to do to get this, dear Mr. Al ? 
 My little daughter is so young only sixteen that I 
 prefer to do all the talking for her!" 
 
 "She doesn't have to do a thing, not one thing, for it, 
 Mrs. Delane," says this bird, which his name ought to 
 of been Ernest. "The only idea is this : We would like 
 to use her name as being the first one to buy out there, 
 and the privilege to print her picture, see? And say 
 that she intends to work the ranch herself, see? And 
 allow us to get some pictures of her doing it, picking 
 the fruit or something, see?" 
 
 "Say," says Rolfie, who was there too "say, we 
 could play that up fine, Bonnie. It's a new publicity 
 line for us as well. You in overalls. Great stuff !" 
 
 "Immense, simply immense!" says Bert. "I will 
 make some wonderful stills of her plucking her crop 
 of olives. Immense!" 
 
 "Oh, dear, but when you get through taking those 
 stills, which it's the truth you could make them better 
 right here on the lot," says I, affecting languor, "what'll 
 I do with the blame place, outside of paying taxes on 
 it?" 
 
 "Now you hush, Bonnie dearie," says mommer has- 
 tily. "You never can tell but that a little place like
 
 Laughter Limited 227 
 
 that may come in handy. Obey your mommer now, 
 and take the deed." 
 
 So I reluctantly took it and then this Al, he took his 
 hat and his departure, and a lucky thing for me, too, 
 because even a talented actress like myself can only 
 register an expression for just about so long, and I 
 had pretty near run out of boredom before I finally 
 reached for the papers and he for his Kelly. And then, 
 sweet daddy, but I'll say we held some celebration when 
 his back was turned, and shook hands with ourselves 
 generally, especially Stricky, who kept telling me he 
 had always known I would make good and so forth. 
 
 But it wasn't until a week later when we was through 
 working, for the picture was finished and Nickolls was 
 by then doing the final titling, that Stricky says to me 
 he would drive me out and we would go and see my 
 new property. 
 
 Ain't it a strange thing the way a perfect day comes 
 to a person every once in a while for no particular 
 reason, but is just a gift out of a clear heaven, so to 
 speak? Often a person will get such a day when they 
 least deserve it, and always when they least expect it. 
 Sometimes I think God deliberately gives folks hours 
 like that to keep them going. Not that I was having a 
 hard life, or that I needed dispensations, but you get 
 me. Fine as things was with me, there is always a fly 
 in anybody's ointment, even if they have put it there 
 themselves, and my fly was that I was not sure of 
 Stricky's love for me. I never felt ever like I had him 
 cinched, on account of him passing by all mention of 
 getting married, and so forth. And this uncertain feel-
 
 228 Laughter Limited 
 
 ing often made me unhappy, especially if I woke up 
 and thought of it in the night. 
 
 But this day when Stricky drove me out in my car 
 to the Arroyo del Rey Development, I did feel sure of 
 him. Not that he proposed, but I just felt confident 
 and serene. He was kind and sweet and acted awfully 
 devoted, the day itself was extra fine even for Cali- 
 fornia, the road a good one the whole ways, and we 
 had one of them feathery, golden times as per see 
 above. Even the property, when we at last got there, 
 was a pleasant surprise. 
 
 The land had once been a big failure of a ranch. I 
 guess it was located too near the water, or something, 
 but anyways, the only trees that was any good were 
 those around my house, which was as yet the only 
 house there and it had evidently been the one the 
 rancher failed in. It was sort of a failure itself, too, 
 but it give me a grand feeling to own it, even after I 
 had eat a ripe olive off the tree which is a mistake to 
 do, for strangely enough they do not get the very 
 necessary pickling until after they are removed from 
 their native branches. 
 
 Well, after we had looked thorough at the house and 
 the view, which view included the brand-new Spanish- 
 type real estate office on the main four corners, why 
 we climbed back into the bus and Stricky took me down 
 to Riverside to a wonderful open-air hotel which was 
 kept by a sort of Dago, I guess. At least I know 
 Stricky says we was served by Al Fresco or something, 
 but it was good eating, and we come back home after 
 taking our time, kidding, laughing, and so on, and I
 
 Laughter Limited 229 
 
 floating on air generally, perfectly gloriously happy 
 when I reached the house and was seized upon by 
 mommer. 
 
 "Good land, child," says she, "do you realize that this 
 is Saturday night, and you are giving a dinner at the 
 Ambassador? When do you think you are going to 
 dress?" 
 
 "Right now !" I says, nearly knocked cuckoo, because 
 I had entirely forgotten this party! And I was not 
 alone giving it, but it was my first real important one, 
 and Stricky had talked me into buying it as a celebra- 
 tion of the Cinderella picture being done. 
 
 "Say listen !" says Stricky, on our front step. "Do 
 you mind if I don't call for you, but meet you at the 
 hotel instead?" 
 
 "Why no !" says I. "It would be better, maybe. The 
 table is in mommer's name. See you at 7 130." 
 
 "All right, so long!" says he. And I watched him 
 swing away down the street, flecking his cane in that 
 snappy way of his, my heart fairly following along 
 after him, and mommer unable to drag me in while he 
 remained in sight. If I had known what was to happen 
 a few short hours later, would I have felt like that? 
 Sweet daddy, I would not say so! 
 
 Well, as I am telling you, the first Nickolls super- 
 production, Alias Cinderella, was now all made, and it 
 was a bear. The photography was something grand, 
 for Joe, our camera man, knew his work, and beside, 
 Nicky had made him use one of these angora lenses 
 that make everything long-haired-looking. It was the 
 very latest in art-photography, without a doubt. The
 
 230 Laughter Limited 
 
 building had all been a success, especially our mil- 
 lion-dollar collapsible medieval castle set, which had 
 actually cost three thousand dollars in money but good 
 taste had raised the value like I said. The costumes 
 was wonderful, and the direction the best that Nicky 
 had done as yet, which all the trade admitted was going 
 some. 
 
 When it come to acting, why it is difficult for me to 
 say anything on account of how I do despise a star 
 which thinks they are the whole cheese and takes all 
 the credit. So I will merely pass along the remarks 
 of others, which were universally to the effect that 
 fine as the pictures was, it would of been nothing with- 
 out me. 
 
 Everybody on our corner of the Brunton lot was 
 perfectly contented with the result of our first effort, 
 as were also all friends and relations and outsiders 
 who had been sneaked in against the rules to see it. It 
 was a haymaker, without a doubt, and there was no 
 nervousness about whether the distributors would take 
 it or not. All that remained was to show it to them, 
 watch 'em drop dead, and when they recovered, accept 
 their check and commence work on the next story. 
 
 Well, this being how things were, why naturally it 
 seemed a good time for me to burst upon society with 
 my initiation blowout as you might call it, and so I 
 had invited all who had been good to me, but for Holly- 
 wood, it was not such a mixed crowd, at that. 
 
 Saturday night is Ambassador night on the Coast, as 
 you undoubtedly know, and when I and mommer en- 
 tered the great, glorious and gay cocoanut room in
 
 Laughter Limited 231 
 
 plenty of time to receive our guests, it sure was some 
 sight to behold. I was in the most wonderful mood 
 and also a quiet little dress of peach-colored spangles 
 and a green ostrich fan, very girlish and modest, while 
 mommer wore gray satin. 
 
 Well, didn't I just hate having the head captain bow 
 me to my prominent table and all? I sure got a big 
 kick out of it, even although the eats was going to be 
 ten a cover. And pretty soon our guests commenced 
 arriving, and other people also, and when I looked 
 around I thought, well, Wallace Reid may be at the 
 next table and Chaplin just beyond, but I'm not so 
 poor off myself, and closer to the dancing floor, at 
 that! Also I had with me the Greytons, and Jack 
 Blum and his Leghorn, and both of the Truemans, 
 Slim Rolf and Bert of course, and that Barred Rock 
 chicken friend of Blum's for Axel. I had also invited 
 Major McGee that used to bawl me out about my 
 make-up when I was a mere extra, and didn't I rub 
 that in, just ! Sweet daddy ! I was very refined about 
 it, of course, but quite unmistakable. 
 
 Besides these real distinguished-looking guests of 
 mine there was yet to come two which was the most 
 important to me, the great John Austin Nickolls him- 
 self, and my Stricky, who was scheduled to pack in the 
 cocktails. Their vacant chairs made the whole table 
 look empty to my eyes, and as the long minutes slipped 
 by without them showing, the evening commenced to 
 go sour for me. Maybe you know the feeling I had, 
 talking to the ones at the table, laughing like a automat, 
 and craning my neck and eyes both towards the door
 
 232 Laughter Limited 
 
 all the time, my heart giving a jump every time a hand- 
 some man showed up between the hat-check boys, only 
 to sink again when it turned out to be merely Doug 
 Fairbanks or someone. The waiters served the soup 
 in spite of me who was trying to wait for cocktails, 
 and then, just as I had about decided Stricky was dy- 
 ing of an accident in some hospital, I seen him come in 
 the door. 
 
 At the sight a sweet feeling of sudden ease and re- 
 lief come over me, and then as he approached a cold 
 hand clutched my heart, for Stricky was drunk as a 
 fool, and he had Anita Lauber with him. 
 
 Now I had on purpose not asked Anita to my party. 
 I just couldn't, somehow, out of respect to what Mrs. 
 Greyton, who was certainly a perfect lady, might feel. 
 Also somewhat on account of my own self. It is hard 
 to write a crabby thing like that without appearing to 
 be a awful prune, and somehow feeling I had ought to 
 apologize for my morality. I don't know what it was 
 ailed me, New England or something, but I couldn't 
 help feeling that way, and any intelligent public will 
 understand. I was fond of Anita and would not of 
 gone back on her in any jam she might be in and so 
 forth. But asking her to my party was entirely dif- 
 ferent and I had not done it. 
 
 However, there she was, both she and Strick as wet 
 as a bootlegger with seven legged boots, and what was 
 I to do ? Somehow or other I kept my face, even when 
 Stricky took the place beside me which I had meant 
 for Nickolls, and put Anita next to him. 
 
 Sick? Sweet daddy! Terrible thoughts commenced
 
 Laughter Limited 233 
 
 racing through my head, and yet I had to keep smiling! 
 Where had these two been? How come they was to- 
 gether? So this was why Strick had excused himself 
 from escorting me and mommer over to the hotel he 
 had planned all along to bring her ! It was like knives 
 going through me, these thoughts was. I could not eat. 
 I sat there in the middle of the enormous gay room with 
 its lights and music and laughing voices, a regular 
 dumb-bell. 
 
 "Say, listen!" says Stricky to me in a thick voice. 
 "Ain't you glad to see your old pal? Speak to her, 
 can't you ?" 
 
 "Hello, Anita," I says over his body, and wishing it 
 was his dead one. "Have you got your stage make-up 
 on, dear?" 
 
 "Oh, Bonnie darling, how bad you look to-night!" 
 says she. "Ain't you feeling well, dear? I think it 
 was so sweet of Stricky to insist on me coming to his 
 party. But then he is awful good to me!" she ended 
 with a silly laugh. 
 
 So that was it! His party! He was good to her! 
 For a minute I felt I couldn't bear it, and I turned to 
 him in a sharp undertone. 
 
 "Gregory Strickland, how dared you !" I says. 
 
 "Say, listen!" says Strickland roughly. "You shut 
 up! You make me sick, Bonnie. I'm through, and if 
 you pull any nonsense about it I'll start something, 
 see?" 
 
 He made a swift gesture to his hip and I saw that 
 what he had there was not the conventional flask, but 
 a gun my gun, or rather, Nickolls'. Then he turned
 
 234 Laughter Limited 
 
 his shoulder and started talking to Anita in a whisper, 
 swaying. A new, strange, horrible man. 
 
 For a moment my head kind of swam. If he had 
 actually pulled the gun I could not of been more terri- 
 fied. I had been morally sure that Stricky had that 
 gun, but not quite. And now it was a positive fact 
 that Stricky was, among other things, a thief. 
 
 The fact of his dishonesty was the least of my wor- 
 ries right then, however, because what might he not 
 do with the revolver in a drunken fit? If only I could 
 get it away from him! If only Nicky would show, 
 perhaps he would be able to help, would know what to 
 do. But for some reason Nickolls didn't turn up. 
 Twice I sent the captain out looking for him, but it 
 was no good. He wasn't at his home, either, because 
 I got Bert to phone. 
 
 How I ever got through the rest of that horrible 
 evening is a wonder to me yet. I guess a person who 
 is pinned down under a car in a railroad accident must 
 have about the same sensations as I underwent. But I 
 talked and my guests talked and we even laughed, I 
 can't imagine at what ! And then at last thank heaven 
 it was time to go home. Somebody says come on let 
 us all go over to John's place it is after one and all the 
 other joints will be closed. 
 
 But going to John's place would of been one too 
 many for me, so I crocheted a gag about well home 
 was still open and I believed I would go there, so finally 
 I was able to shake the bunch, and mommer and I got 
 in a taxi and started for home. 
 
 In the cab I reached blindly for mommer's hand and
 
 Laughter Limited 235 
 
 found it and held it tight, sitting stiff and silent in the 
 dark, my love all turned rancid but my pride and vanity 
 laid open to the raw. Through the thick soft darkness 
 mommer's voice kept bursting out every little while, 
 like lightning. 
 
 "The brute!" she says. "The hound! What did I 
 tell you about him, Bonnie dearie? Didn't I always 
 say he was a cheap, good-for-nothing ham? And 
 a dirty low-life? I knew it, Bonnie dearie, I just 
 knew it and I always did say so! Now don't you 
 grieve over him, honey, he ain't worth it. You know 
 they say love is of man's life a thing apart, 'tis woman's 
 whole existence. But I always say if that was so no 
 woman would live to be over sixteen !" 
 
 For the first time her voice couldn't touch nor com- 
 fort me. I felt transported into a new strange world. 
 Why, everything had been strange all evening ! There 
 was me a hostess to top circles of picture people, to 
 begin with. That wasn't normal. Then there was also 
 me on the edge of being a well-known star and already 
 announced as such. That couldn't of been true, either ! 
 Or me riding home with a mother of my own to a 
 beautiful home of my own. No, no! Small wonder 
 the thing went and crashed ! It all had ought to of been 
 a dream, a beautiful dream too good to last. Yet here 
 I actually was, riding in the taxi with mommer, her 
 strong clasp crushing my diamond ring into my flesh, 
 my expensive dress heavy and soft against my knees, 
 my wrap warm and perfumed about my face and 
 shoulders. Yes, it was real ! I was Bonnie Delane, the 
 Nickolls star, going home to my lovely house. The
 
 236 Laughter Limited 
 
 only lie, the only untrue thing was Stricky and his 
 ghastly behavior. 
 
 It seemed a thousand years before the taxi reached 
 our district and when at last it did and stopped in front 
 of our place I got out, still in my sick dream, and stood 
 helplessly beside mommer while she paid the driver off, 
 I staring at the house meanwhile and dimly realizing 
 there was something wrong with it, but not what. 
 Mommer made it clear, however, the very minute she 
 turned her attention towards it. 
 
 "My land, Bonnie!" says she. "Did you leave all 
 them lights burning when we come out ?" 
 
 "Why," says I, stupidly, blinking at the place, "I did 
 not ! At least I don't remember. But I certainly think 
 they was all turned off!" 
 
 Well, the house was lighted from parlor to attic. 
 Every window was glowing and in many of them 
 the shades not even pulled down. The porch light 
 was on, too, and for just a moment a person couldn't 
 help but wonder if maybe the place was on fire. But it 
 was just the lights, as we could right away see.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 C< 1T\O you suppose we been robbed?" I says as we 
 
 -*-^ hurried up the path. "And they left them 
 burning?" 
 
 "Not a chance !" says mommer, panting along beside 
 me. "Calif ornians are pretty good advertisers, I will 
 admit, but I don't hardly think even Californian burg- 
 lars would go that far !" 
 
 "But who could it be at this hour?" says I. "Oh, 
 mommer, I'm sure something more is wrong !" 
 
 "Don't be a nitwit, honey!" says Adele. "Here, let 
 me open the door ! Maybe I did leave them lights on, 
 though it ain't like me." 
 
 Well, mommer took the key from my hand, but it 
 seemed she didn't need it. For although the door was 
 shut, it opened the minute she give it a touch, and we 
 went in, shaking like a loose-leaf date book or some- 
 thing. 
 
 Inside, on our Early Spanish combination hatrack 
 and umbrella stand which I had got to keep my golf 
 sticks in, was a strange hat and coat a man's. They 
 was thrown down on it any old which-way, and beside 
 them was a bundle done up partly in brown and par- 
 tially in newspaper, and the fortunately dead butt of a 
 cigar was resting on the newel post of the staircase 
 right at the feet of the Milo Venus I kept there. 
 
 "Well!" says mommer. "If it's a burglar he must 
 237
 
 238 Laughter Limited 
 
 of concluded we was in Honolulu at the very nearest!" 
 
 "It's no burglar, mommer," I says, my heart beating 
 with a queer conviction that something was about to 
 land on my shoulders. And just as I says that a funny 
 sound come from the direction of the parlor. 
 
 We stood still as stone looking at each other in- 
 tensely, and pretty soon it came again. It was a snore; 
 a loud, firm, healthy snore, nothing more nor less; a 
 practiced, customary snore, and there was something 
 familiar about it to me. Right away I come to life and 
 started to investigate, cutting across the hall in not over 
 two jumps, pulling the parlor portieres to one side. 
 And there sprawled in one of my blue velvet Spanish 
 chairs, his boots off and on the hearth, his stocking 
 feet crossed peacefully upon my new victrola lamp, was 
 pop! 
 
 "My land !" says Adele's voice in a frightened whis- 
 per behind me. "Who ever would of thought it pos- 
 sible a person could sleep in one of them chairs !" 
 
 "Sweet daddy !" says I aloud. 
 
 At the sound of my voice pop come to, yawning and 
 rousing himself with a shake like a big dog, just in the 
 old way, and also in the old way taking my exclamation 
 to himself as a well-deserved warm welcome. 
 
 "Yi-hi !" says he, bringing his feet down off the Vic- 
 trola with a soft heavy thump. "Yes, Bonnie darlin', 
 'tis your sweet daddy himself, come all the way from 
 the East to find his little girl !" 
 
 "Heavens!" says mommer. "Bonnie Delane, never 
 tell me that is your father!" 
 
 "That's the idea I was brought up with," I says
 
 Laughter Limited 239 
 
 briefly. "Although how he's traced me out is more 
 than I can tell you; or how he got into my house, 
 either!" 
 
 By this time pop had not alone put down his feet 
 but stood upon them, twitching his baggy trousers 
 down, and running his fingers like a comb through his 
 mop of yellow hair. I had kind of forgotten how 
 handsome pop was, but being reminded of it by sud- 
 denly seeing him this way didn't bring any enthusiasm 
 with it, somehow. All I could think of was bad pennies 
 and returnable cats, and so forth, and I begun to feel 
 as mad as anything. 
 
 . "Sure I got in by picking the lock," says pop, smiling 
 good-naturedly. "A very simple lock ye have, Bonnie 
 darlin/ for one that's fitted odd keys to people's trunks 
 a good part of his life. Aren't ye going to give your 
 poor old father a greeting at all ?" 
 
 "Yes, pop !" I says, going over and letting him kiss 
 me on the cheek but not returning it. 
 
 "And who is this handsome lady?" says pop then, 
 one arm around my waist, looking at Adele and smiling 
 his very best. 
 
 Adele blushed under it, but looked as pleased as an 
 old fool, and of course I remembered my good man- 
 ners, stunned as I was, and at once made them ac- 
 quainted. 
 
 "Why this is mommer, pop," I says. And then the 
 minute it was out I just stood there staring like a dumb- 
 bell. 
 
 "The hell you say!" says my father, his jaw dropping 
 and for once in his life all the wind taken out of him.
 
 240 Laughter Limited 
 
 Then he recovered himself and a twinkle come into his 
 eye. "Sure and I always was the lucky man !" says he. 
 
 "The impudence!" says Adele with a snort, taking 
 offense at once. "Bonnie Delane I er McFadden, 
 I think that if you was going to ask this this person 
 here you might at least of told me in advance so's I 
 could move my trunk out of the way!" 
 
 "Adele!" I says, leaving pop cold, and running to 
 her in terror. "What are you talking about ? I didn't 
 know he was coming any more than the man in the 
 moon ! And you will move out of this house over my 
 dead body only! Now for heaven's sake, let's sit 
 down, all of us, and find out where we are." 
 
 Well, we did that, mommer on the settle, but looking 
 far from it, pop slumping right back into the least un- 
 comfortable chair in the room, and myself perched upon 
 the edge of the refractory table, that being the way I 
 felt, and for a minute all we done was to sit glaring at 
 each other like we didn't know who ought to start 
 something, but each of us feeling perfectly willing to be 
 elected. The problem was really mine, however, so I 
 cracked the ice. 
 
 "Well, pop!" I says. "Will you please tell me how 
 you come to find out about where I was, and every- 
 thing?" 
 
 "And where would I find that out except by the 
 newspapers ?" he demanded. 
 
 "But the Delane !" I says. "How did you know be- 
 yond that?" 
 
 "Well, it's a wise father who knows his own child 
 from a picture in the newspapers," says pop. "But
 
 Laughter Limited 241 
 
 they been full of you, Bonnie darling, and it's proud 
 your old pop has been to point them out. You're a 
 smart girl, Bonnie, and I always said ye had the great 
 talent!" 
 
 "Yeh, you have proved quite some picker, pop!" 
 says I. "I suppose I might of known the papers would 
 let you on. But how did you get the money to come 
 out, and why in the world did you do it?" 
 
 "Hush now, Bonnie !" says pop, very sweet and pa- 
 thetic. "Sure I got to thinking of you out here all by 
 your lone and you the young and handsome girl that 
 you are, and it worried me, how there would be no- 
 body to advise you about your money and so forth. So 
 I sold the little shop, and here I am, and mighty glad 
 to be here !" 
 
 "You sold the shop !" I says. "Why, pop, who would 
 buy it, with all that mortgage on it ?" 
 
 "Well, to tell the truth I didn't sell it exactly," says 
 he. "Bushwell, the old devil, foreclosed on me at last. 
 But I had the laugh on him in the end, for. I' 
 
 disposed of the entire contents for two hundred and 
 fifty cash money." 
 
 "But, pop !" I says, feeling like I must be in a dream. 
 "How about the big house? Who will look after it for 
 Mr. Sherrill now that you are gci:e?" 
 
 "Why, daughter dear, the house can't run away, can 
 it?" pop asked, kind of mildly indignant as if I was 
 to blame. "It's stood there many a year, and will for 
 many more, I'm thinking. I just turned the key in it, 
 and brought the key along." 
 
 "Oh, my heaven !" I says with a groan. "I thought
 
 242 Laughter Limited 
 
 you would learn some sense of responsibility if you was 
 left to yourself. And look at you!" 
 
 "There now, dearie!" says pop. "I have certainly 
 learned my responsibility. I come to see clear as day 
 how I been neglecting you, and that I should come out 
 and manage your affairs, no matter how much work it 
 involves. What was my little business compared to 
 yours ? Tell me that !" 
 
 "Your duty was right there at the Sherrill house!" 
 I snapped. "And you know it." 
 
 "Why, daughter!" says pop, opening his blue eyes 
 very wide in that way he had, like a hurt child. "Why, 
 daughter, surely you wouldn't have me a janitor, while 
 you was a well-known actress? It would hurt your 
 position !" 
 
 "Oh, dear, I suppose it would!" I says helplessly. 
 "Somehow, pop, you always got a answer. But if you 
 think you have come out here to live on me you can 
 make a retake. Nothing doing." 
 
 "I was thinking I might go in the moving pictures 
 myself," says pop cheerfully. "They say a lot of easy 
 money can be picked up in them. And now will you 
 explain who is my charming wife, over there with the 
 frown on her that don't become her pretty face?" 
 
 Adele didn't say anything to this, and only moved 
 her shoulder more towards him. But the frown come 
 off, I noticed. 
 
 "Pop," says I, "this is the only mother I have ever 
 known. She has done everything in the world for me 
 that six ordinary ones might of, and I love her a lot. 
 A girl has to have a mother out here, and she is mine
 
 Laughter Limited 243 
 
 and nothing will make me give her up. Her name is 
 Mrs. Delane." 
 
 "Madame !" says pop, going up to Adele and making 
 her a sweeping bow. "Madame, I am proud to meet 
 the beautiful mother of my of er a charming 
 daughter. Considering we have her in common, so to 
 speak, I hope you won't mind our getting acquainted!" 
 
 "Sit down, do !" says Adele. "And don't be such a 
 clown. There is no camera on us, Mr. McFadden, and 
 you can act natural, unless of course you was born that 
 way?" 
 
 "No matter what way I was born, dear Mrs. De- 
 lane," says pop, "I would gladly try to make meself 
 over to suit your requirements." 
 
 "Well !" says Adele. "I must say that never before 
 in all my experience as a mother have I been up against 
 anything like this. They say truth is stranger than 
 fiction, but I always say it might be if you could tell 
 them apart!" 
 
 "Now, mommer!" I says, "don't you get excited, 
 dear. I know I should of told you about pop before, 
 but I was kind of trying to let him slip my memory." 
 
 "But I am in a real difficult situation !" says mommer 
 unhappily. "I can't stay in this house if he does. I'm 
 not a married woman." 
 
 "What!" says pop. "Holy cats!" 
 
 "And I'm not going to live here with him," Adele 
 went on, ignoring his remarks. "What will folks say? 
 There's your popper and there's your mommer! A 
 fine mess!" 
 
 "I'll say she's right, pop," I admitted sadly.
 
 244 Laughter Limited 
 
 "What'll we do? Before you answer, let me again re- 
 mark that Adele and me will stay together. And what 
 is further, I don't intend to support you." 
 
 "Of course not !" says pop readily. "But how can I 
 get work out here in this strange place where nobody 
 knows me? What do you suggest, Bonnie dear?" 
 
 Well, when pop pulled that old familiar line all I had 
 to do was close my eyes and I could smell the corned 
 beef and cabbage in the basement kitchen of the old 
 Sherrill house back in Stonybrook. I had actually to 
 grab hold of my spangled evening dress to make sure 
 it was not my gingham house wrapper. There come 
 over me the old sensation of being merely pop's daugh- 
 ter ; a young thing accustomed to minding him, and to 
 taking the raw end of it for him. 
 
 Was I to be my own boss or was he to drag me 
 back into childhood in some mysterious, sinister way, 
 and make me his slavey again? That was the big 
 question. Although there wasn't one word spoken on 
 the subject, the battle between the two of us filled the 
 room so that you could almost see it. It was just like 
 our two wills were swelling and straining until we 
 pretty near crowded the very furniture out. 
 
 And then all at once I knew I had won. I could feel 
 pop give in, and I was almost sorry, while at the same 
 time immensely glad that I was cut loose from him for- 
 ever. I was suddenly so completely free of his will that 
 I could really see him now and talk to him you know 
 like two human beings instead of two relatives. And 
 he could never catch me again because this was a mat- 
 ter of my generation making its breakaway. I drew a
 
 Laughter Limited 245 
 
 long breath and opened my eyes, which had up to this 
 point been unconsciously shut. I turned to pop and 
 spoke, perfectly at ease. 
 
 "I know just what will suit you fine, pop!" says I, 
 smiling. "You wouldn't like working in the pictures. 
 It's awful hard, really. You better ranch it." 
 
 "How's that?" says he. 
 
 "Well, I have a beautiful little olive ranch up the 
 valley," says I, "and I will give it to you free and clear. 
 There's quite a few bearing trees on it, and the life 
 would be ideal." 
 
 "Why, that's so !" says pop enthusiastically. "I al- 
 ways did fancy I'd make a fine landowner. And all 
 you have to do out in this country is sit and watch the 
 fruit grow, they tell me." 
 
 "Just that!" says I. "Here I'll do it now, pro- 
 vided you will promise to move out there and start your 
 ranching by noon to-morrow." 
 
 I went over to the inquisition kitchen-cabinet thing 
 and dug out the deed of the Arroyo del Rey Develop- 
 ment property and handed it to pop. 
 
 "There!" says I. "I'll make it over to you entire. 
 Now you got a real chance to prove what you are 
 worth." 
 
 "Daughter dear!" says pop, taking the deed in one 
 hand and my face in the other. "Sure you're the finest 
 girl a father ever had ! I'll make a fortune off them 
 trees, you'll see, and you will never have to work, 
 after, the longest day you live !" 
 
 Well, I caught sight of Adele's face behind him, 
 and if she wasn't mugging! The sentimental look
 
 246 Laughter Limited 
 
 she was registering had ought to of been preserved in 
 a blue plush album with white forget-me-nots painted 
 on it! So I played up to my audience a little, kissed 
 pop, and then we all made for the hay, pop commenting 
 loudly on what a fine house I had, and so forth, as we 
 went the rounds putting out the lights, which he had 
 turned on in order to give it the thorough once-over 
 while waiting for us. 
 
 "I think, Bonnie honey," says Adele in a whisper at 
 the door of my room, "that your father is pretty near 
 the finest-looking man I ever seen. So distankay!" 
 
 "Yes, he's handsome," I admitted wearily. "If he 
 was as hard-working as he is easy-looking he'd have 
 old John D. borrowing pennies off him." 
 
 "Well," says Adele with a sentimental sigh, "I know 
 they say handsome is as handsome does, but I always 
 say, if you have two loaves, sell one, and buy white 
 hyacinths to feed your soul." 
 
 With which she kissed me good night and left me to 
 lock myself in my room, all the sorrow in the world 
 rushing back upon me. And as per usual, when I had 
 pulled off a satisfactory cry I got up and took a good 
 look at the picture of Milton Sherrill which was on my 
 mantelpiece. 
 
 I had made up to Milt for taking him off of my 
 bureau, by blowing him to a real handsome art frame 
 of Spanish leather, to match the Spanish house, and he 
 had occupied the center of this shelf ever since we got 
 settled, with no competition in the line of ornaments 
 except a pair of purple china parrots and a brace of
 
 Laughter Limited 247 
 
 wrought-iron candlesticks, called that way, I suppose, 
 because they represented a guy wrestling with some 
 snakes and they certainly was wrought up all right. 
 Well anyways, Milton held the center of the camera so 
 to speak, and now I went over and looked at him as 
 soon as I had dried my tears enough to be able to see 
 him good. 
 
 Pop was from home, and so was Milt. But pop 
 brought only mean memories with him, while with the 
 thought of Milton Sherrill come a sense of fine things, 
 such as clear skies over the cold blue of Long Island 
 Sound ; apple blossoms falling on my bare head in the 
 old orchard behind the big house ; a bird singing in the 
 early morning and piercing into my heart; the song I 
 my own self used to sing while polishing the front 
 door knocker, happy because it was on the door to the 
 Dream-man's mother's home. And drool like that. 
 But so important to remember! His straight look 
 came out to me from his photo like a light in a dark 
 place. And all of a sudden I knew I had never loved 
 Gregory Strickland at all. 
 
 I carried Milt's picture back to my bureau after a 
 while and took it out of the leather frame. Then I 
 took Stricky's picture with the "Yours to the end of 
 time" written across it out of its solid gold frame and 
 slowly tore the picture up in little bits. Stricky's nose 
 was left all by itself on the top of the pile of scraps. 
 So I tore that even smaller, but without wishing it was 
 real, or any other feeling. And then I put Milton into 
 the gold frame and went to bed, strangely tired and
 
 248 Laughter Limited 
 
 quiet all over my whole entire body. And the next 
 thing I knew, mommer was knocking on the door and 
 calling through my dreams. 
 
 "That Greg Strickland is downstairs!" she says. 
 "He says he's got to see you quick !"
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 ' I A HERE is a custom in moving pictures called 
 - shooting at the moon, and said custom generally 
 gets put into action when the scenario department is 
 going cuckoo for lack of a plot. 
 
 Well, when this happens the gang gets together and 
 sits around the office and says here, we simply got to 
 get a plot; they have already started making the pic- 
 ture, so we will now commence crocheting a few gags 
 together, come on, boys, shoot at the moon ! And then 
 someone, maybe the camera-man will say well Bill I 
 think a good idea would be for this girl, see, to be 
 stuck on this feller, see? And then the director will 
 say, sure Joe, but he can't marry her, see, because of 
 his father's will. And that probably gives the con- 
 tinuity writer a hunch, and he or she will come across 
 with say I can improve on that, his father's will pro- 
 vides this feller must marry a certain girl, see, and 
 the father don't know that this girl is really the right 
 girl, see? And by now the head of the scenario de- 
 partment has taken his mind out for a little exercise 
 and it is just beginning to get warmed up and so he 
 says, all right, but this girl knows she is the right one 
 all the time, see, and only pretends to be a poor work- 
 ing girl because she don't want the boy to marry her 
 for her money. And so by now they have a good, 
 original plot, and this way of getting it is called shoot- 
 ing at the moon. 
 
 249
 
 250 Laughter Limited 
 
 Well, the morning after pop unexpectedly showing 
 at our house and all, I was in a position of having to 
 take a crack at the moon myself, especially when mom- 
 mer says Stricky is down stairs and wants he should 
 see you and so forth. Her words got me out of bed 
 like they was a derrick, but as soon as I had put my 
 feet on the floor I quit cold, and sat on the edge of the 
 hay thinking rapidly what would I do. They had 
 started making the drama, but I hadn't any script 
 ready. This was not at all the way I had planned 
 the piece to run, for I had no more idea that Gregory 
 Strickland would dare to ever come anywheres near 
 me again in his whole entire life, than I had of asking 
 him to do such a thing. My first thought was I will 
 not see him. And then on second considering I 
 changed my mind and decided no, I will see him be- 
 cause after all I will probably have to, some day. And 
 just as it is wise to get a cavity in your tooth rilled 
 before it stops hurting, and not go around with it 
 open and liable to get something in it at a restaurant 
 or some place and commence throbbing all over again 
 when you least expect it, so it is a good bet to get any 
 other painful interview over. The sooner the quicker. 
 
 So I called out "All right mommer I will come" 
 and set out to make myself look as pretty as I possibly 
 could so's Stricky would thoroughly appreciate what 
 he had lost. And then I went slowly downstairs to 
 where he was walking up and down all alone in the 
 parlor like a wild man. At least that is what I thought 
 as I reached the lowest step on the stairs. But I soon 
 found out different, for Stricky's steps was not nervous
 
 Laughter Limited 251 
 
 anxiety, but jazz. He had put a number on the phono- 
 graph and was snapping his fingers to it as I come in 
 the door. This was really more than I intended 
 standing for, and I pointed at my early Spanish phono- 
 graph with a dramatic ringer. 
 
 "Kill that number !" I says. "I can't stand it !" 
 
 "Sure I will !" says Stricky, obliging. "What's the 
 matter, honey, got a bad head?" 
 
 Well, for a moment I couldn't hardly believe my 
 ears ! His manner was just like ordinary, and a per- 
 son would of thought that nothing unusual had hap- 
 pened. 
 
 "Say, listen," he went on, "I feel great this morning, 
 considering. I found a new pick-me-up that would 
 cure a wood-alcohol case. Let me fix you up a little, 
 Bonnie. Some party we had, eh?" 
 
 "Greg," I says quietly, "you know I don't need any 
 pick-me-up. If I have a head this morning, it wasn't 
 liquor caused it. Do you remember anything you 
 done last night?" 
 
 He got silent for a moment, then he shrugged his 
 shoulders and give a little laugh. 
 
 "Oh, that !" he says. "You mean Anita, I suppose. 
 Well, what of it? We was on a party, that's all! 
 Forget it." 
 
 "No, I can't forget it," I says. "I want you to 
 understand that. I am through, Greg." 
 
 "Say listen!" he says. "Don't begin and pull any 
 line of bunk like that. A party is a party and any 
 little old thing is liable to happen on it. Besides, what 
 I do is my business."
 
 252 Laughter Limited 
 
 "That's what I'm trying to tell you," says I. "En- 
 tirely your own business and none of mine, from 
 now on." 
 
 "Oh well, if you are going to get jealous," says 
 Stricky, "go ahead. I'm fed up, anyways. I only 
 came around this morning because I thought we might 
 as well kiss and make up. It's all in a lifetime if you 
 won't!" 
 
 Well, I just stood looking at him and wondering 
 did I really know this man? His hair, like black 
 glass, was the same, his tie was as perfect, his whole 
 freshly washed effect was as snappy as it had always 
 been. Even his fine high color didn't seem to of been 
 affected much by being so wet last night. But I didn't 
 know him any more. He was just some stranger that 
 had wandered in: a objectionable one which I didn't 
 care to get any better acquainted with. Maybe you 
 know how it is to stand that way in front of a person 
 who you have wrapped your life around day and 
 night for a long time, and suddenly see them clear? 
 Sweet daddy, it's a queer sensation ! The only satis- 
 faction in it would be to have the upper hand through 
 the other person still caring. But Stricky didn't even 
 leave me that. 
 
 "I see," says I at length, "that we had come near 
 to making a awful mistake. I'm not going to pretend 
 I will ever be friends with you, Strick. As for our 
 contract with Nicky, I don't know what to say. I 
 could no more go on playing opposite you than oh 
 well, I just naturally couldn't pull it off, that's 
 all!"
 
 Laughter Limited 253 
 
 "Say listen, you needn't worry about that!" says 
 Greg, sneering his eyebrows in a cool, unpleasant way 
 and calmly lighting a cigarette. "Don't trouble about 
 not playing with me, old girl, because I am going 
 with the Divers Comedies for my next picture, any- 
 way!" 
 
 Well, this pretty near took me off my feet, for I 
 knew Stricky's contract run for another six months. 
 What did he mean ? Nickolls had let him out for some 
 reason. That was of course good, and relieved me 
 from a lot of unpleasantness, but just the same some- 
 thing in the way Strick pulled the line made me 
 uneasy. It wasn't all on account of Anita now also 
 being with the Divers Comedies, either, although I 
 will admit that while I was finished with Strick for- 
 ever, I was yet female enough for the thought to give 
 me a little pang, and it was no good saying to myself, 
 well, all right you can have him, dearie, and may 
 God pity you! Because while of course I made that 
 conventional remark in my brain and knew it for 
 a mighty wise crack, still my vanity hurt under it. 
 And if you are a woman who has lost a unworthy 
 man, you will get me perfectly if some other woman 
 has beaten you to it and grabbed him before you had 
 the chance of firing him. 
 
 "Greg Strickland," I says slowly, "I am glad to 
 hear you got another job so soon after Nicky giving 
 you the air, which I suppose he must of done this 
 forenoon." 
 
 "Air, hell !" says Strick, leaning against the piano 
 and grinning at me. "Say, listen, he didn't give me
 
 254 Laughter Limited 
 
 any gate ! I just grabbed off a job, that's all. I got 
 to eat, you know !" 
 
 "Stride!" I says. "Whatter you mean?" 
 
 "Don't ask me, kid," says he, still smiling, and 
 pointing with his cigarette over my shoulder towards 
 the door. "Don't ask me, ask Nickolls !" 
 
 Well, I turned around bewildered, and there in the 
 door was Nicky. His face was white and drawn, 
 and he looked ten years older than when I had seen 
 him last. All of a sudden I remembered how he hadn't 
 been on my party the night before, nor sent me any 
 word about why not, or anything. Something had 
 happened to him in the meantime, something dreadful 
 that had wiped all the pep out of him. 
 
 "Nicky !" I cried, running over to him and grabbing 
 him by the lapels. "What is it, Nicky? Oh! You 
 look awful!" 
 
 "Bonnie, little Bonnie!" he says, putting both his 
 hands over mine. Then he stopped short. It didn't 
 seem like he could go on. Across the room Strick- 
 land's voice was flung at us like a hoot. 
 
 "Ha ha ! I guess you can do with a little sympathy, 
 eh? Mister Producer Nickolls?" says he. "So you 
 were going to let me out of my contract because you 
 didn't care for my influence on your lot ! Oh, boy !" 
 
 "So the dirt has got around already, has it?" says 
 Nickolls quietly, leading me into the room. "You are 
 very quick to blow with the wind, Strickland, but it's 
 about what I would have expected of you." 
 
 "Say, listen," says Strick, his face going kind of 
 pasty with anger, and his eyes narrowing down to
 
 Laughter Limited 255 
 
 little black slits "say listen, you're through telling me 
 what I'm to do, see? Or what you think of me. I've 
 taken a great deal of language from you on the lot, 
 because I had to, but now I don't. And just kindly 
 remember that I didn't have to accept the release you 
 offered me yesterday. That contract is sound and I 
 could sue you for six months' salary and get it! I 
 expect you knew what was going to happen last night, 
 when you offered to let me go! You knew the dis- 
 tributors wouldn't take your lousy picture, and you 
 were trying to save your skin!" 
 
 Nicky went as white as a sheet and the strong mus- 
 cles of his face commenced working strangely. He 
 looked like a Japanese war god or something and I 
 felt terribly afraid, while all across my mind blazed 
 the terrible words like they was written in fire. "The 
 distributors wouldn't take your picture." It was mon- 
 strous, incredible, there must be some mistake ! Nicky 
 was moving slowly towards Strickland, his face still 
 working, his hand clenched down at his sides by a 
 terrible effort of self-control. 
 
 "You swine!" he says in a low voice like a lion 
 snarling. "You low swine! That's a lie and you 
 know it. The picture is one of the finest that has 
 ever been made and you know that! I've endured 
 your crawling around me as long as I can, but when 
 you accuse me of the kind of cheating which comes 
 naturally to your own rotten mind I'm through and 
 I'm going to beat you up ! Come outside !" 
 
 "Bonnie!" says Strick at the top of his voice. 
 "Make him lay off!"
 
 256 Laughter Limited 
 
 Nicky give an ugly laugh and shot out a big hand, 
 landing in Greg's collar and jerking him away from 
 the piano. 
 
 "Come out of this!" he says. "Or shall I have to 
 carry you out before I pound you to death ?" 
 
 "Nicky! Don't!" I cried, flying at him. "Don't 
 dirty your hands. Please oh, please don't fight!" 
 
 "Well, I don't want to fight !" says Greg, still shrill 
 and high. "Leave me alone, Nickolls!" 
 
 "Oh, don't kill him, Nicky !" I says. "Please ! Only 
 pretty near kill him!" 
 
 "I can't fight a squash pie !" says Nicky disgustedly, 
 having by then dragged Greg as far as the door. "He 
 won't stand up long enough for me to knock him 
 down!" 
 
 "I'll go ! I'll go !" says Greg, being shoved out into 
 the hall. "But you needn't think I'll forget this, I'll 
 get square with you, you big roughneck ! I'll get you 
 yet!" 
 
 "Oh, put him out!" I cried. 
 
 And 'Nicky did, sending his pearl-gray hat and 
 yellow cane after him and slamming the door hard. 
 Then he come back into the room wiping his hands 
 on a big linen handkerchief and smiling. 
 
 "There!" he says. "That's the first thing I have 
 enjoyed in twenty- four hours! It's been coming to 
 me for a long time, too !" 
 
 "Nicky," I cried, "sit down and tell me everything ! 
 What has happened? Why weren't you at my party 
 last night and what is all this about Cinderella ?" 
 
 The flush of triumph and satisfaction come right
 
 Laughter Limited 257 
 
 off of Nicky's map at this, and he looked old and worn 
 and white again. 
 
 "Little Bonnie," says he, "you don't think I'm a 
 crook?" 
 
 "Don't be a dumb-bell !" says I, "I know you, Nicky. 
 What's all the dirt?" 
 
 "Bonnie," says he heavily, "one thing Strickland 
 said was true. The distributors have refused the pic- 
 ture!" 
 
 "But they haven't seen it !" I gasped. 
 
 "They saw it last night," says Nicky briefly. "That 
 was why I didn't come to your party." 
 
 "Sweet daddy!" says I. "How on earth did that 
 happen?" 
 
 "Benny Silvermount called me up at about four 
 yesterday," says Nicky, "and said that he had to go 
 out of town to-day and that several of the board were 
 free for the evening. Naturally I suggested showing 
 it. Well, I did!" 
 
 "And they turned it down ?" I says, stunned. "But 
 Nicky, it don't seem possible. Why, that picture is 
 wonderful, any way you look at it. They must be 
 crazy !" 
 
 "Crazy like a pack of foxes!" says Nicky bitterly. 
 "They knew it was a good picture. They were, acting 
 on Big Benny's orders, that was all!" 
 
 "But why should he order such a thing?" I says 
 hotly. "Benny is a business man and that's a great 
 picture. It would earn him big money." 
 
 "It will be still more profitable for him to keep it 
 off the market," says Nicky more quietly now. "I'll
 
 258 Laughter Limited 
 
 explain how it is, little Bonnie. You remember, of 
 course, that the Big Egg threatened to break me? 
 Well, he's done it, that's all. He knows Alias Cin- 
 derella is a wonderful picture. He even told me so, 
 frankly, as we came out. He said it was one of the 
 best he had ever seen, and that you were superb in it. 
 Thank God you won't lose anything! You can go 
 right back to him." 
 
 "I won't!" I says indignantly. "I'm going to stay 
 right where I am. With you." 
 
 Nickolls smiled and patted my hand. 
 
 "You don't get the idea, yet," he says. "You're a 
 thoroughbred, Bonnie, but unfortunately there will 
 be nothing to stick to. I'm broke. I'll have to go out 
 and look for a job myself, and you will be obliged to 
 do the same." 
 
 "But Cinderella " I commenced when he stopped 
 
 me by a gesture. 
 
 "Practically every first-class picture theater in the 
 country is controlled by either Silvermount or Muro," 
 says he. "And those two concerns, with Knute, con- 
 stitute the best and practically the only distributing 
 agency. I could state-right my picture, of course, and 
 that is what I shall do. But it will be a slow business, 
 and the chances are that I won't even get back the 
 money I have put into it. Which of course precludes 
 my going out after new capital." 
 
 "But can't you make Benny change his mind?" I 
 says. 
 
 "Why should he change it?" Nickolls asked. "He 
 will buy in that film cheap at the end of six months,
 
 Laughter Limited 259 
 
 and reissue it through the Big Three. It will not have 
 been hurt in the meanwhile because only the program 
 houses in a few small towns will have shown it. 
 Probably the Big Three will retitle it, and send it 
 out as a new issue. And in the meanwhile I will crawl 
 back asking for work. Damn their hides !" 
 
 He buried his face in his hands, his strong fingers 
 clutching at his curly hair. But somehow he didn't 
 look broken, even in that position only slighty bent, 
 maybe. I laid a hand on his shoulder and he looked 
 up into my eyes straight and clear, so that my heart 
 just regularly ached for him. 
 
 "Nicky," I says solemnly, "I wouldn't say I don't 
 care about Cinderella's not getting released, because I 
 do horribly ! But I'll tell the world I would not give 
 up having made it, and made it with you, and what is 
 further, made it right, like we did, for all the success 
 in the world. It's a great picture and you know it 
 and I know it, and nobody can take that away from 
 us. The experience we went through together in that 
 work is something to keep sacred in this part of the 
 country, and to well, to sort of live by !" 
 
 Nicky didn't say anything for a moment. And 
 then he leaned over and kissed me gently on the 
 cheek. 
 
 "Little Bonnie, thank you !" he says. And then he 
 got to his feet. "Well now, I have a lot of things to 
 attend to," says he in a different voice, "and I'll have 
 to dust. You take my advice and go to see Silver- 
 mount. Benny has his eye on you and he'll grab you 
 back."
 
 260 Laughter Limited 
 
 "Never !" I says fiercely. "After he's pulled a dirty 
 trick like that ? Not much, I won't !" 
 
 "I like your spirit, child," says he, smiling sadly, 
 "but it's not good sense. Think it over." 
 
 He started for the door, then thought of something 
 and turned back. 
 
 "By the way," he says, "that revolver of mine 
 would you mind letting me have it ?" 
 
 "Nicky!" I screamed, a sudden coldness coming 
 over me. He frowned slightly and shook his head. 
 
 "Bonnie, Bonnie, I thought you knew me better!" 
 says he reproachfully. "I wouldn't do a thing of that 
 sort. Why child, I'm not a quitter, I'm a fighter! 
 This will be an interlude for me, that's all. I'll go back 
 and lie low, and later, try again." 
 
 "Oh, Nicky, excuse me, please!" I says, half crying. 
 "And, Nicky, I haven't got the gun. Honest, I haven't. 
 Greg Strickland took it. I saw it on him last night. 
 I'm awful sorry." 
 
 "Well, never mind," says Nicky. "It belonged to 
 my dad, that's why I asked for it. Confound that 
 skunk of a Strickland, I don't want him to have it, 
 either. Well, so long, Bonnie, and don't you worry 
 about my committing suicide I'm too interested in 
 pictures for that !" 
 
 For a long time after the outside door had closed 
 upon Nicky I stood looking out the window, face to 
 face with a nodding spray of heliotrope from the vine 
 around the frame. The soft wind brought in that 
 everlasting smell of cedar wood burning and crude oil 
 and dried eucalyptus leaves. And now the perfume
 
 Laughter Limited 261 
 
 of the heavy heliotrope clusters too. I kind of bathed 
 my face in it like, not trying to think as yet, but 
 feeling awful tired and let down. Far away at the 
 other end of the house I could hear voices talking, but 
 they didn't mean anything to me. I felt like nothing 
 was going to mean anything to me ever again. And 
 then after a while the door to the hall opened and 
 mommer put in her head. 
 
 She was all dressed to go out, and looked unusually 
 snappy and attractive, even for her, and if I had been 
 in any mood for it I would of asked why all the prink- 
 ing? But before I could say a word mommer had 
 the floor her own self. 
 
 "Mr. Nickolls gone?" she says. "Well, Bonnie, I 
 been helping your poor dear father get ready to move. 
 I just gathered up a few odds and ends we don't really 
 need down here and they will make him a lot more 
 comfortable. I put together some canned goods and 
 some coffee and so forth in a basket, so's he'd have 
 something in the house right away. And them blan- 
 kets off the spare-room bed, and a couple of sofa pil- 
 lows. And I thought that if you was through with 
 your business affairs you might just run out to the 
 ranch in the car, and we will take these things along 
 and help him to get to rights, the poor man !" 
 
 "All right, mommer!" I says listlessly. "Just wait 
 until I get on my street clothes." 
 
 "Before you go upstairs, dear," says mommer 
 "there is a man at the door. He says it's the install- 
 ments on the piano, and that they are two weeks over- 
 due."
 
 262 Laughter Limited 
 
 Well at that, believe me I come to sudden life. 
 Right out of a clear sky there jumped down a ghostly 
 army of bill collectors, crowding even my big drawing 
 room and shaking unpaid bills at me. I was cold with 
 terror, for there was not alone the piano man, but 
 the phonograph man, the furniture man, the notes on 
 the car, on the house, on my ring. There was col- 
 lectors from department stores, from my fan-picture 
 photographer, from everywhere, all around me. I felt 
 like they would suffocoate me. Due, due everything 
 was due and I hadn't even a job any more! 
 
 "Well," says mommer, placidly drawing on her 
 gloves, all unconscious of this imaginary yet real crew 
 that was attacking me, "I said the cash mightn't be 
 convenient just now, and he says he will take a note 
 on the piano. What'll I tell him ?" 
 
 "Tell him to take G sharp !" says I, and run upstairs 
 laughing hysterically while mommer just stood there 
 staring after me with her mouth open.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 A MONTH later I was what you might call still in 
 **> the same position. By which I do not mean run- 
 ning upstairs, but I'll say I was running just the same, 
 because by now the sheriff was about one jump behind 
 me. As a matter of geography, I and Axel was sitting 
 in our bathing suits under one of those bright um- 
 brellas that flock so thick around Crystal Pier, and 
 talking about ourselfs. Axel had at this time just 
 finished the heavy part of a footman in a McGee pro- 
 duction where he would surely show at least three 
 times during the picture, for as long as five seconds 
 each time. But Axel wasn't contented, even although 
 I pointed out it was at least a part, which was more 
 than I had. There being no money to spend enjoying 
 ourselfs, we was indulging in the poor-folks pastime 
 of belly-aching. 
 
 "Ay tank Ay fail because Ay don't speak English 
 so good," says Axel very serious. "If Ay speak 
 better English, Ay betchew may life Ay got better 
 parts!" 
 
 Well, I'll say that was the prize alibi for failure to 
 progress in the pictures, because lookit Pola Negri. 
 But I needed Axel to howl to, myself, so of course I 
 had to agree with him. 
 
 "It's a crime the way they don't appreciate what a 
 263
 
 264 Laughter Limited 
 
 wonderful actor you are," I says. "You ought to have 
 a big future, Axel." 
 
 "But you, Bonnie!" says Axel, plainly pleased. 
 "How you tank I will get appreciated ven you don't? 
 Have you not got anything yet?" 
 
 Well, for a moment I was going to pull the conven- 
 tional "Why, I have a big offer and while I haven't 
 signed up yet, I expect to in a coupla days." Then I 
 considered why throw the bull to a friend, and I did 
 kind of want somebody to talk things out with. I 
 had Adele of course. But since pop had shown, I 
 didn't have her so much of the time as before. Some- 
 how it always seemed like there was something out 
 at the ranch that needed to be done and only mommer 
 could do it. Axel was about the only one at hand, 
 Nicky having gone East on a trip. And so I come 
 clean. 
 
 "Axel," I says, "honest, I don't know what am I 
 going to do! I haven't the smell of a contract, even, 
 except, Axel, the contracts I have made with install- 
 ment people and so forth. Something has got to break 
 for me pretty soon or I will. Even the grocer had kind 
 of a nasty look in his eye this morning." 
 
 "Why don't you hock your ring?" says Axel, men- 
 tioning my big chunk of ice which I still wore. 
 
 "Installment," I says briefly. "Just the same as 
 everything else. I must of been cuckoo, I guess, when 
 we started Alias Cinderella. Oh, Axel, I don't want 
 to lose what I've gained my pretty home, my car, 
 everything! Why, I'm pledged for them ! And do you 
 know that after The Mischief Maker was released I
 
 Laughter Limited 265 
 
 had all kinds of offers? Now something mysterious 
 has sprung up between me and every producer on the 
 Coast!" 
 
 "Except one," says Axel. 
 
 "Except Silvermount, yes!" says I fiercely. "But 
 I won't go there! I won't!" 
 
 "Big Benny ban making tha other fallars hold off 
 you," says Axel. 
 
 "He's got some kind of agreement with them, I sup- 
 pose," I says sadly. "But it doesn't seem as if I could 
 ask him for work. It isn't fair or right that I should 
 have to. Why, I'd feel like I was double-crossing 
 Nicky if I was to go to Silvermount now." 
 
 "Nickolls don't feel like that," says Axel unex- 
 pectedly, reaching for the copy of Wid's, which he had 
 brought out along with his bath towel. "Ay see he 
 bane going to Artlife!" 
 
 "What?" says I. "Give me that, Axel ! Oh, Nicky, 
 they've beat you for sure!" 
 
 And Axel was right. On the front page was a 
 notice about how Nicky had signed up in New York 
 and was coming back to the Coast to make some special 
 productions a new line of stuff based on classic 
 literary stories and plays, and that he would use a 
 big group of feature players, but no star. 
 
 "Kind of a stock company," says Axel. "Veil, Ay 
 suppose tha fallars with the name gets all the parts, 
 youst like usual!" 
 
 But I didn't pay any attention to his crape-hanging, 
 for I was inspired. My way was now sort of cleared 
 for me. If Nicky actually felt he could go back, and
 
 266 Laughter Limited 
 
 went first, why so could I. I sure did hate that outfit 
 for what they had done to us, but I and Nicky were 
 both helpless against them. We had to have the work, 
 and didn't they just know it! I thought of mommer 
 and how I owed it to her not to stand in my own and 
 her light any more; and of pop, too, who of course 
 had to be given a small allowance until his crop was 
 in, and believe me it was just like pop to be the one 
 person in the bunch who required actual cash money, 
 while I and mommer struggled along on a steadily 
 weakening credit. And so, with one reason and an- 
 other leading me on, I decided to go up and see the 
 Big Egg and tell him well I am back, the prodigious 
 daughter and all that, and when do I commence 
 working ? 
 
 "Well, Axel," I says, "I guess they have me beat, 
 too. Temporarily, anyways. I'll go job-hunting this 
 very afternoon, and in the meanwhile I have got the 
 price of a coupla hamburger sandwiches if you have 
 got the strength to go and buy them and no onions 
 in mine to-day!" 
 
 Well, Axel had, and little did I think the day would 
 ever come when a ten-cent hot with pickles would 
 be my honest-to-goodness lunch and I glad to get it, 
 and even less did I think it could possibly be the case 
 that I would eat such lunch while a enormous white 
 automobile that was at least technically mine, waited 
 parked beyond the bathing pavilion! But such is pic- 
 tures, and as mommer often truly said "Spend and 
 the world spends with you, charge it, and you spend 
 alone."
 
 Laughter Limited 267 
 
 Well anyways, I enjoyed my sandwich down to the 
 very last bite, and would of enjoyed that, too, only 
 just before taking it, I happened to look up, and who 
 would I see but Anita and Stricky, both in bathing 
 suits and a very affectionate manner, parking them- 
 selves under a near-by umbrella. Well, that took my 
 appetite completely, and I got right up and threw the 
 last bite of my sandwich away and ain't Providence 
 wonderful? As that bite of sandwich hit the sand 
 I seen it had onion in it ! So only for them two show- 
 ing, I would of eaten it unconsciously, and throwing 
 it in their direction expressed my feelings pretty good, 
 too. I never saw one without the other any more, and 
 believe me when they hove into view I hove out. 
 Which, as Hollywood is not a big world, meant that 
 the three of us led a pretty active life. 
 
 Well, this day I got up and gave them the beach, 
 and when we was dressed I drove Axel back to Vine 
 Street, where he was still living with Mrs. Snifter on 
 account he could never seem to get even with, much 
 less ahead, of his room rent. And then I went home 
 and dolled myself up to knock Benny cold. 
 
 It was one thing to walk up to the Silvermount 
 offices a unknown hicklette from the East, another 
 to arrive as a star, driving my own boat, or so it was 
 for all they knew, and march into the office knowing 
 I was doing them a favor by coming at all. The girl 
 behind the window smiled and reached for the push 
 button as soon as she seen me, and I walked confi- 
 dently in past a lot of respectful hams which was 
 warming the mourner's benches.
 
 268 Laughter Limited 
 
 "Who did you wish to see, Miss Delane?" says she, 
 confidential-like, once I was in. 
 
 "Mr. Silvermount, please, dear!" says I. 
 
 "I think he's here," says she. "Do you know where 
 his new office is ? Down the corridor and turn to the 
 left. The first door. You can go right in." 
 
 This was news to me. So they had moved the head 
 office since I had been on the lot ! I trotted along the 
 dark hallway until I come to the proper door, knocked, 
 and the girl says come in, and there in a small dark 
 office with the stenographer right in the same room 
 and everything, was Benny Silvermount in shirt sleeves 
 and cigar. 
 
 "Well, hello, if it ain't Miss Delane!" says he, actu- 
 ally getting up to shake hands. "How's tricks, eh ?" 
 
 "Oh, very good, thanks," says I. "I been awful 
 busy that is, I could I talk to you alone, Mr. Silver- 
 mount ?" 
 
 "Why, sure! Sure!" says Benny. "You could take 
 them specifications over to Major McGee's office, Ella, 
 and you shouldn't come back until I ring." 
 
 Well, this Ella went off, and the Big Egg drew up 
 a chair for me. 
 
 "Well, now, we got it nice and cozy, ain't it?" he 
 says amiably. Not a bit excited over me turning up. 
 But what was a person to expect? 
 
 "Is there now something I could do for you, Bon- 
 nie ?" he goes on. "It's quite a while since we seen you 
 around this lot!" 
 
 "Too long a while, Mr. Silvermount," I says. 
 "That's what I come about."
 
 Laughter Limited 269 
 
 "So?" says he. 
 
 Then he frowned a little, looked at me like a ques- 
 tion mark, flecked an ash off the fat cigar, reparked 
 it and left things up to me. I begun to wish right then 
 and there that I hadn't been in such a hurry, but had 
 waited until mommer come home from the ranch, and 
 brought her along to kind of overpower him. But 
 if it was up to me to crack the ice, why I would 
 do it. 
 
 "I was just thinking," I says, "that I am about 
 rested now, and I don't mind if I go back to work. 
 Provided the salary, part and so forth, are satisfac- 
 tory, of course." 
 
 "Huhu !" says he calmly. "So that's it!" 
 
 "Of course I don't want to tie myself up for very 
 long," I says, "because I got a good many offers I am 
 considering, but I thought that after you coming to 
 see me the way you did, why I would give you first 
 chance of getting me." 
 
 "Well now, that is real good of you," says Benny 
 politely. "I appreciate it a lot." 
 
 He let silence flop between us then like a regular 
 wet blanket. I commenced to feel uneasy. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Silver-mount?" I says. 
 
 "Well, that's just it!" says he, shifting the cigar 
 to the other side of his face and chewing on the end 
 of it. "That's just it!" 
 
 "What do you mean?" I says, nearly wild. He 
 was like a stone wall everything I said to him 
 bounded right back at me. "You know the last time 
 I saw you, you were acting very different, Mr. Silver-
 
 270 Laughter Limited 
 
 mount. I was to come to you any time don't you 
 remember ?" 
 
 "Yes, but that was three months ago," says he, 
 like he was referring to at least the Middle Ages. "All 
 of three months ago !" 
 
 "But I haven't changed any since then !" I told him. 
 "I'm even better than I was. Are you sore at me 
 because I wouldn't come back until Nicky did ? I will 
 be honest with you, Mr. Silvermount, that was what 
 changed my mind." 
 
 "Is Nicky coming back?" says he, sitting up in his 
 chair sharp and sudden. "Good! That's fine!" 
 
 "But sweet daddy!" says I. "Didn't you know it?" 
 
 "No," says he, sinking back again. 
 
 "Look here, Mr. Silvermount!" I says sharply, get- 
 ting to my feet and thumping the desk, and believe 
 me I had him cornered and he knew it because this 
 was a small quartered-oak desk with no hall of refuge 
 under it. "Look here, what's wrong?" I says. "Are 
 you going to give me a contract or are you not?" 
 
 "Now, now, don't get excited!" he says, showing 
 more life. "No, I am not going to give you a con- 
 tract, but don't get excited!" 
 
 "And why aren't you going to give it to me?" I 
 says, near to crying. "You promised me !" 
 
 "I know, I know, but I tell you I can't do it!" says 
 Benny wildly. "I ain't got the power !" 
 
 "Well, sweet daddy!" says I. "Why not? Ain't 
 you the president of this corporation ?" 
 
 "Sure, I'm president!" says he, waving both arms
 
 Laughter Limited 271 
 
 like windmills. "But now I am it in name only. The 
 stockholders have made a lot of fuss and nonsense, 
 Miss Bonnie, and they sent a feller down here to take 
 charge of finances, and he thinks he can run the whole 
 shooting match! Everything, mind you, he's got the 
 power to do ! Why, I got no more ability to hire you 
 than a cat!" 
 
 "What?" says I. "Do you mean to tell me the 
 Silvermount is in an installment collec a receiver's 
 hands?" 
 
 "No, not at all !" says Benny. "But we will be soon, 
 with this know-all running the place! I wish you 
 could hear the things that man asks me ! What ability 
 has such a person got? Why was that one hired? 
 How should I know about my friends? And I'm to 
 tell where this money went, and why no estimate was 
 made for that, and where the appropriation has gone 
 for the other ! My heavens, how can a man in pictures 
 bother with such details? Two weeks he's been here 
 already, and he's got a time clock on the lot and a 
 filing-report system! He thinks you can make pic- 
 tures like in a factory! Let him wait, that's all!" 
 
 "Sweet daddy!" says I. "But surely he lets you 
 hire the hams, don't he?" 
 
 "Not much!" says Big Benny, collapsing into his 
 chair and groaning. "He says the salaries we pay is 
 crazy, and he must O. K. every cent before we can 
 spend it. Why, I couldn't hand you any contract if 
 you was to pay me for it. He's a hard nut, that feller, 
 with a face and heart on him like a stone. But you
 
 272 Laughter Limited 
 
 go talk to him if you want and say nothing about 
 you're a friend of mine, or me recommending you, if 
 you want to get by!" 
 
 "Whew !" says I. "Well, to be brutally frank with 
 you, Benny, I got to eat. So I may as well take a 
 chance on him. Where is his lair?" 
 
 "My old office!" says Benny sadly. "Such grief! 
 Come back and tell me if you got any luck !" 
 
 Well, I flitted out and down the corridor like the 
 ghost of my own hopes, and stopped outside the big 
 carved teakwood door of poor Benny's old room, my 
 heart in my mouth. The typewriter desk in the wait- 
 ing room, which was usually occupied by the dentist 
 assistant, was vacant, and there didn't seem to be no- 
 body about. So after two or three moments alone I 
 thought, oh, well, he can't eat me, and if I don't take a 
 chance why maybe I will not even get to see him. So 
 I give a knock on the teakwood, and almost at once 
 a deep voice says "Come in." 
 
 Naturally I didn't hesitate, but pushed open the door 
 and entered cautiously, so's to. beat it quick on the least 
 alarm. 
 
 The room was exactly the way it used to be in 
 Benny's day, with the handsome furniture and all, and 
 the enormous desk, only now the desk had papers on 
 it lots of them. There was only one person in the 
 room, a man over by the window, and he was busy 
 searching through a portfolio. As I come in he put 
 this down and turned around. 
 
 It was Milton Sherrill.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 / ~p v HE first thing I thought of as I looked at Milton 
 * was that once he had kissed me. You see if the 
 truth be told, I had lately kept in the back of my mind 
 what Anita used so often say to me about getting a 
 friend to help you in the pictures. And while I had 
 nothing definitely decided, I had the idea that maybe 
 it would be necessary for me to do just a little vamp- 
 ing. I was pretty desperate, even for a woman, which 
 it is a fact they get that way easier than the men do, 
 and I simply had to find work. 
 
 Well anyways, that kiss which had occurred out on 
 the top of the Sierra Mountains in the moonlight, 
 come back to me the minute I set eyes on Milt, and 
 with it the realization that here was my chance! He 
 liked me. I would be half sold to him before I started, 
 and if I could get him crazy about me, why who 
 knows? But being a awful amateur on lines of that 
 nature, I didn't hardly know how to commence. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Sherrill!" I says. "It's you! And it's 
 me ! Don't you remember ?" 
 
 "Remember?" says he, a big smile sweeping over 
 his face like a light. "I'll say I do!" 
 
 Well this was a jolt, his using language like that, 
 but of course he was in the pictures now. I thought I 
 had better show my full realization of this, so I held 
 
 out both hands. 
 
 273
 
 274 Laughter Limited 
 
 "Well, well, Milt!" I says. "How's tricks? So you 
 are working for the pictures!" 
 
 "Even so !" says he, grabbing my fingers and draw- 
 ing me to the most comfortable chair. "Sit here," 
 says he. "My word, but you look charming! Are 
 you very rich and famous now?" 
 
 "Haven't you heard ?" I says. "I am not McFadden 
 any more. I'm Bonnie Delane." 
 
 "Great Scott, is that so?" says Milt with a whistle. 
 "I know about you now, of course! I haven't seen 
 either of the pictures, though, for I've been kept busy 
 with technical details ever since I got here. But I'm 
 going to run The Mischief Makers some evening soon. 
 I understand that it is a great picture, and that you 
 are a wonderful actress." 
 
 "Far be it from me to contradict such a statement," 
 says I. "And maybe I'm not glad to see you! But 
 I can't get over you being in the pictures ! You, that 
 had such a line of lowdown on them." 
 
 "I expect I exaggerated about that a bit," says Milt, 
 settling himself beside me just like he used to in the 
 observation car. "I, like most outsiders, hadn't real- 
 ized the enormous possibilities in the industry. It's a 
 wonderful game, but it is still in its infancy. My belief 
 is that the artistic future of moving pictures has no 
 limit ! And let me tell you, we have made some of the 
 finest pictures anyone could wish to see, right here on 
 this lot As for the business end well, it leaves me 
 speechless, that's all !" 
 
 "As bad as that ?" says I. 
 
 "Bad? Who said bad?" demanded Milton, leaning
 
 Laughter Limited 275 
 
 over and tapping me solemnly on the knee. "My dear 
 girl, the moving picture business is colossal! True, 
 it has been pretty carelessly managed in some cases, 
 as for instance, right here, where old-fashioned, slip- 
 shod methods were in force. That's what I came to 
 straighten out. My first intention was to remain a few 
 weeks at most, but as I get into the thing and begin 
 to see what could be done, I am very much inclined 
 to stay on as financial head. I must say they have 
 made me a very flattering offer. I haven't signed the 
 contract yet, but I'm considering it." 
 
 "Sweet daddy !" I says feebly. "Is there a bug of 
 some kind in the Hollywood air?" 
 
 "All we need in this business," Milt went on en- 
 thusiastically, "is the right sort of people. More and 
 more are coming in every day. We must throw out 
 the old traditions, which were established by a lot of 
 clowns who were using the pictures very much as they 
 would have run a shell game." 
 
 "I see," said I dryly, "that you know just what is 
 wrong with the pictures. Most newcomers do." 
 
 Milton Sherrill laughed like a schoolboy and sprang 
 to his feet, fetching and lighting a cigarette, and then 
 coming back, pulling his chair closer to me. 
 
 "I say !" says he. "Don't laugh at me too unmerci- 
 fully, I'm having such a lot of fun ! For the first time 
 in my life I am combining business and pleasure. And 
 in the main I have the right dope about this game, 
 Bonnie. May I call you that?" 
 
 "Sure you can !" says I, laughing. "I like it, Milt. 
 It's plain you are really in up to your neck. And
 
 276 Laughter Limited 
 
 maybe you do know something about what pictures 
 need. You will, until you've been in them a while." 
 
 "Well, as I am a new broom I intend to sweep 
 clean,'' says he. "I am going to rid this lot of the 
 personal-pull idea, and favorites, and all that, and I 
 have begun by hiring Austin Nickolls." 
 
 "Oh, I am glad," says I. "You couldn't help but 
 like his work." 
 
 "So they tell me," says Milt. "I have not seen any 
 of it yet, but this chap has become rather a friend of 
 mine. He took me out to dinner when I was in New 
 York, and we had several long talks together. I be- 
 lieve Nickolls is a wonderful director and that he has 
 a big future ! What are you laughing at ?" 
 
 "Nothing!" says I. "I'm happy, that's all. And 
 how about me, Milt? Do I get a job or are you 
 prejudiced against me, on account of me being a old 
 friend?" 
 
 "Not a bit, if you can act !" says he readily. "But 
 we are not making anything just now. We are finish- 
 ing the stuff which had already been started when I 
 took the plant over, but we have not settled on our 
 new productions." 
 
 Well, this was a blow because our grocer had already 
 been told about as many of them forthcoming produc- 
 tions as he was interested in listening to, and I had 
 a strong prejudice in favor of eating. I had come to 
 land a contract and I had no intention to leave without 
 it, sc I made a move over onto the arm of the big 
 overstuffed where Milton was sitting.
 
 Laughter Limited 277 
 
 "Oh, Milt!" I says pouting. "Put on something 
 for me right away please?" 
 
 "Now, Bonnie !" says Milt, not drawing away any, 
 however. 
 
 "I know, but, hon," I says, "you see I was prac- 
 tically contracted for before you come out here. 
 Benny Silvermount had been after me and said to 
 come around any time. Couldn't you do it on that 
 basis?" 
 
 "B. McFadden," says Milt, "desist! No, I can't!" 
 
 "Oh, Milt !" I says, and laid my cheek against his 
 nice clean hair, and then all of a sudden I realized that 
 this was no sacrifice, but probably the least difficult 
 thing I had ever done in my whole entire life. At the 
 thought I sprung away from him as quick as a cat, 
 and at the instant Milt was on his feet, too, pacing up 
 and down the room. 
 
 "Hey, you!" says he, like a thunderstorm. "Sit 
 down in that chair!" 
 
 I sat down weakly, a rush of emotion making clear 
 to me that whatever Milt was to tell me to do, why I 
 would do it from that time on, world without end. 
 Amen ! I was glad and sorry and ashamed and proud, 
 all at the same time. And I had started something. 
 I'll say I had ! Only not what I at first thought. 
 
 "You dear little idiot !" says Milt, stopping in front 
 of me suddenly, and frowning. "So that is the way 
 you think they do the trick, eh ? No wonder pictures 
 need reorganization! But it doesn't go here, child, 
 nor with any of the big men in the business. When
 
 278 Laughter Limited 
 
 will you pretty picture-struck girls realize that what 
 the producer wants is talent ? That he will always buy 
 it at a fair price when he finds it ? You don't have to 
 do that sort of thing to me, or to anyone. You can 
 act. That is enough. And, B. McFadden, as a vam- 
 pire you are a rank amateur thank God !" 
 
 He come over and kissed my hands quickly, and 
 let them drop and started pacing again, while I just 
 sat there and couldn't say a word. 
 
 "Women are all crazy !" he burst out after a minute. 
 "I should think they could see that men in this business 
 are absolutely fed up with silly women being thrown at 
 their heads ! I'm no Adonis, but, Bonnie, you are the 
 tenth, in as many days! It's amazing!" 
 
 "But, Milt," I says, pretty nearly ready to cry, 
 "you don't understand! I'm good, I can act, but I'm 
 broke. I got to get work, and you said you 
 wouldn't " 
 
 "Oh, hush!" says he, never stopping his impatient 
 walking. "Now I will have to make work for you! 
 So you see your vamping was a success after all. I'll 
 draw a contract of some kind this very afternoon, and 
 give you an advance. You will begin working as soon 
 as Nicky gets home. You need taking care of badly, 
 B. McFadden, and I'm going to see that it is done." 
 
 Well, it's the truth that no matter how pure a lady 
 is, she don't like to be scorned. And no modern girl 
 gets any joy out of being told she can't take care of 
 herself. Also it is a true fact that loving and hating 
 act on a person very much the same way, and finding 
 out that I loved Milton Sherrill naturally at once made
 
 Laughter Limited 279 
 
 me as touchy as anything. I got on my feet as soon 
 as he stopped talking. 
 
 "I seem to of managed to take pretty good care of 
 myself this far," I says haughtily, "and can go on 
 doing so. I don't think you need bother with any 
 contract or anything. Good-by !" 
 
 "Hold on, B.," says Milton, putting his hand on my 
 shoulder and making me sit down again. "Now that 
 I have found you, I am not going to let you get 
 away so easily. And you are going to stop behaving 
 like a silly child and sign a contract at a reasonable 
 figure say, six hundred a week." 
 
 Well, as this was only one hundred berries more 
 than I had ever got in my life I give a reluctant con- 
 sent, and before I left the Silvermount that afternoon 
 I had signed on the dotted line for three special Artlife 
 productions, where I would not be a star by any means 
 but would be one of Nicky's feature players, and also 
 with a two weeks' advance in my purse, which I took 
 with all the languid indifference of a starving hyena 
 pouncing on a piece of raw meat. 
 
 But all this time Milt had not done one thing towards 
 me, except what was real impersonal. And as I drove 
 out home in the big white bus, which now was really 
 going to be mine, it seemed to me like I was bound 
 to be a business success ; but a emotional failure. As 
 soon as I fell in love with somebody they would get 
 cold feet, or cuckoo over some other girl, and all my 
 life it had been the same. There was Ella's brother 
 back in the Stonewall Grammar School, who used to 
 walk home with me and carry my books until I got
 
 280 Laughter Limited 
 
 crazy about him and started giving him the cake out 
 of my lunch box. Then he took up someone else. 
 And there was a boy come with his family one sum- 
 mer to board out at the Bushwell farm. Mark Rowe, 
 his name was, and he was sixteen and wild over me, 
 until I told him I loved his eyes. Then he switched 
 over to Ella. Then Stricky. And now Milton. On 
 the other hand, there was dear old Bert Green, wild 
 over me and I couldn't see him at all. And Axel, who 
 any nitwit could tell was in love with me, while I only 
 felt sorry for the poor good-looking boob. All the 
 world loves another, as the old saying goes. And it 
 didn't seem right. 
 
 Well, as I looked back I seen clearly that I had not 
 really give a whoop for any of the lot until Milt, and 
 I couldn't afford to lose him. I wouldn't. I would 
 face the cruel truth which I had been aware of the 
 other times but had never applied. I must not let Milt 
 see how I felt. It was a darn- fool truth, but a truth 
 just the same, that what a man can't have he wants, 
 and so I would pull a can't-have, if it killed me. If 
 Milt wanted to believe that I was just job-hunting 
 when I vamped him, why so much the better. I give 
 a sigh when I thought of it. Could I land him? I 
 didn't know. All I knew for sure was that I had really 
 been in love with him all my life. 
 
 When at last I got home, more in a state of fatigue 
 than of triumph, there was mommer ahead of me, and 
 of course tickled to death with my news. 
 
 "Why, Bonnie, dearie, I don't believe I could of 
 done any better for you myself," she says. "When
 
 Laughter Limited 281 
 
 I was Lila Lavelle's mother I always used to tell 
 her 'A time will come when I can't teach you any 
 more.' It looks like you were about there, hon, and 
 I suppose before long you will be through with me!" 
 
 "Adele!" I says. "Oh, mommer, never! Why how 
 can you say any such thing? I guess I will trouble 
 you for a good many years yet !" 
 
 "I wouldn't call it trouble," says she with a pleased 
 smile. "But I will say, honey, I am relieved you are 
 signed up with such a good company. Mr. Sherrill is 
 a rich banker, quite aside from the pictures, ain't he? 
 And unmarried. H'm ! Well, I suppose you will moan 
 over that good-for-nothing nitwit of a Strickland, just 
 the same. I hear he is perfectly devoted to Anita now." 
 
 Mommer stood with her hands on her hips, watching 
 me, but attempting to register casual indifference. And 
 it was all I could do to keep from laughing right out 
 at her simple plotting. It was plain at such times why 
 Adele's life ambition to be a picture actress had never 
 come to anything. She could no more force a false 
 expression than she could control a natural one, and 
 believe me I did love her for it. 
 
 "Hon," says I, "don't you worry over my emotions. 
 I got a job, that's enough to think about, ain't it ? And 
 as for Stricky, I haven't even got any desire to show 
 him where he gets off. He is already off as far as I 
 am concerned. But this I will say, and that is, some 
 day he will make love that he don't mean once too 
 often, and then he will get his." 
 
 "My land, I should hope so!" says mommer. And 
 then she changed the subject quick. "Well," says she,
 
 282 Laughter Limited 
 
 "I guess it's a good thing I was out to the ranch this 
 afternoon. Your father hadn't washed the dishes 
 in two days. That poor man is as helpless as a 
 infant!" 
 
 "Mommer," I says severely, "you let him alone. 
 He's got to learn to work and you must leave him 
 learn it!" 
 
 "Well, all right," says Adele. "They say cast your 
 bread upon the waters and you will find it after many 
 days, but I always say a dish in time saves a nine day's 
 plumber's bill; and that sink was something awful." 
 
 Well, I'll tell the world that the sink was not the only 
 thing about our ranch that was in a fierce condition. 
 I went out for a visit a coupla weeks after pop took 
 possession, and pretty near dropped dead when I seen 
 the place. At the first I just wouldn't go because I felt 
 well here is pop, he never done a thing for me except 
 sit on my neck and take my money, but well he is too 
 old for me to change him, and so I will provide for 
 him. But that will buy me the liberty to keep away 
 from him. However, when he got so enthusiastic 
 about ranching it, and moved out and everything, why 
 a kind of hope did revive in me to the effect that per- 
 haps he could actually make a go of it, for five acres 
 is not a great deal to irrigate, and yet a mighty com- 
 fortable living can be taken off of them. 
 
 So when one day mommer says it is a shame the way 
 you treat your poor father you had ought to go out 
 and see him oncet in a while anyways, I give in to her, 
 and mommer swiped a few magazines out of the parlor, 
 a box of new electric bulbs, a coupla phonograph
 
 Laughter Limited 283 
 
 records and other delicacies, and hid them on me in the 
 car, and I didn't discover them until after we had got 
 half ways out to the Arroyo del Rey, and it didn't seem 
 worth while turning back. 
 
 Well, that made me a little sore, because it seemed 
 to me she had taken pop pretty near everything in 
 the house by then, and we might as well of moved out 
 our trunks and been done. And when we come to the 
 ranch itself, which by now it was less a ranch than 
 the center of a new lot of cute art dwellings, I was 
 even less glad. Of course I had not expected this ranch 
 to be one always, and by now this development was 
 quite an old district more than five months old, in 
 fact, and so of course it was being built up pretty fast, 
 but still and all that shouldn't of affected pop's trees 
 like it had. As we come in sight of them I give a gasp, 
 for the ground was cracked and dry, with weeds 
 springing up in it, showing plainly that no cultivation 
 had been even attempted. As for the fruit, heaven 
 knows a olive whether in or out of a cocktail, means 
 nothing personally to me, but I hate to see even a cara- 
 way seed wasted, and these olives were. They was 
 dried up like Egyptian ones, or something, and the 
 whole place had a look of being run down. Very extra 
 conspicuous it seemed, among all that grand California 
 real-estate enterprise, conducted by Californians from 
 Pennsylvania. 
 
 Pop was not expecting us, for he was busy sitting 
 on the front porch with his boots off, and his stockings, 
 with his feet in them, however, on the rail, and he 
 was squeezing the last drop of reading matter out of
 
 284 Laughter Limited 
 
 the morning paper, which showed considerable conser- 
 vation because this was the middle of the afternoon. 
 There certainly was some things pop could make go a 
 long ways. 
 
 "Well, Bonnie, dearie !" he says, delighted, when we 
 stopped outside. "Welcome, pretty daughter, to my 
 humble home." 
 
 "Humble is right, pop," I says, coming up on the 
 porch and leaving him present me with one of them 
 generous kisses of his. "I might of known you would 
 humble it! What's the big idea of leaving things go 
 this way?'* 
 
 "Daughter dear," says pop with great dignity, "that 
 is a fine way to speak, and you neglecting me all this 
 while ! It's true this is no palace, but it's my own, and 
 my warm welcome ought to compensate for its short- 
 comings !" 
 
 I sunk down in a chair and looked around me with 
 a heavy disgust. From a pretty but neglected ranch 
 it had grown to be a pigsty ! Even in spite of Adele's 
 efforts to the contrary. 
 
 "Pop," I says, "what ails you? I thought you was 
 full of enthusiasm for this job?" 
 
 "Tush, darling, that's where I was all wrong !" says 
 pop, smiling again. "Ye see it was a terrible piece 
 of work, getting all them damn trees watered, and 
 plowed, and what not ! My back itself was near broke 
 before the first day was out. And then, when I come 
 to figure what would I get off them at the very best, 
 why it wouldn't be the fortune I want to make for you, 
 dearie. So I set myself to find out how would I do bet-
 
 Laughter Limited 285 
 
 ter with the property, and I been figuring on that ever 
 since." 
 
 "Is that so?" says I indignantly. "Well, I hope you 
 got something settled by now, because the looks of this 
 place is a disgrace, and it was given to me for the ad- 
 vertising! Believe me, when I start work on Nicky's 
 new picture next week the real-estate interests out here 
 will commence using this for publicity again, and, sweet 
 daddy, what will they say ?" 
 
 "That's so, daughter dear," says pop with a troubled 
 look in his big blue eyes. "What a pity, now! Of 
 course the place is mine, since you gave it to me, but 
 they will pass remarks, none the less, no doubt. What 
 will we do about it ? You make a suggestion, Bonnie, 
 and I will act on whatever you tell me to." 
 
 Well, it had been quite some time since I had been 
 obliged to think up a new line for pop, and so it didn't 
 take me long to hit on a idea. 
 
 "I'll tell you what," says I "you get in with the 
 Arroyo bel Rey people, and cut this place up into half- 
 acre lots and sell them for building, all but your own 
 house. And with the money you get, buy your way 
 into the development company." 
 
 "Why, that's a grand idea!" says pop, brightening 
 at once. "All I would have to do is mark off the cor- 
 ners of the lots with pegs and then sit in the office 
 and wait for the customers. There's fine money to be 
 made in real estate, Bonnie, and I think we have hit 
 on the right idea at last!" 
 
 Well, I thought maybe, but said nothing, and just 
 then mommer come out from the kitchen with a pot
 
 286 Laughter Limited 
 
 of coffee and some cake, and I recognized my best 
 china cups on the tray. But I wouldn't say a word 
 about that, because soon I myself would be hard at 
 work, so why not spend as happy an afternoon as is 
 possible with one's family? As things turned out, it 
 was a long time before I seen either pop or the ranch 
 again. I was glad afterwards to remember we had 
 parted friends. 
 
 "Au revoir, dear!" I says when I left, kissing him 
 of my own accord. 
 
 "Same to you!" says pop. And that is the last I 
 seen of him until after what I am now going to tell 
 you about happened.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 ^1 T 7HEN Nicky come back from New York it was 
 ** the breath of my artistic career to me. Of 
 course I had seen a lot of Milt that is, considering 
 how busy he was but while Milt was my heart, 
 Nicky was my art, and that is the curse of we modern 
 women; there has got to be so many kinds of men in 
 our life, and our tradition to the contrary, makes us 
 fight that true fact, and troubles us a lot. 
 
 But while I felt it kind of queer in me to be so glad 
 to see Nickolls when I was all the time deeply in love 
 with Milt, yet I was made that way, and to celebrate 
 his return we had a party out to my house with Milt 
 and Bert and Axel and Benny Silvermount and Trixie 
 and Jennie, her kid, and we ate our lunch out in the 
 garden, and had a talk fest about how good we all was, 
 and what a great future was before us and so forth. 
 
 "Thank God for this, his country!" says Nicky, 
 leaning back in his chair and sniffing at the blue sky. 
 "Give me the Coast and you can have New York !" 
 
 "I thought you was crabbing about our immoral 
 community just before you went East," I says, kidding 
 him, see? "And that you never wanted to work out 
 here again, but stay in the wholesome stimulating cold 
 of winter slush, and so forth?" 
 
 "Huh!" says Nicky, shaking his big lion's head. 
 "Huh! I've been East since then!" 
 
 287
 
 288 Laughter Limited 
 
 Well, this picture, the first one Nicky was to make, 
 might of been called a kind of a experiment. It sure 
 had some cast. Trixie Trueman, Bonnie Delane, Tom 
 Wells, Herman Herman, the famous he-beauty, and 
 Atlas, the strong guy. Nobody starred, but everybody 
 featured, and Milt had worked out the paper for it such 
 a way that nobody could get sore. He was having 
 all the names printed on the same line, and alphabeti- 
 cally. 
 
 Well, the script of this piece was by a bird named 
 Hawthorne and was called The Scarlet Letter. You 
 see Nicky had got the idea to make some American 
 classics, and not to change them any, but attempt 
 merely to amplify the books for screen purposes and 
 make only such changes as was absolutely necessary 
 to have them go in the small towns. And Milt backed 
 him up strong, in spite of Big Benny, who stood around 
 and tore his hair, or would of only he was prematurely 
 bald and really couldn't spare it. But he tore a cloth 
 hat one time, when they says they was going to keep 
 the original title. So then they saw not alone what was 
 left of the hat, but reason as well, and changed the 
 name of the picture to The Price of Sin. 
 
 But when it come right down to the story itself, 
 Nicky* would not give in one inch. He claimed he 
 would make this great American novel the way it was 
 written, and if it was part of a person's education to 
 read it, why not make it the same as it read? Of 
 course he realized that on account of the censors he 
 would be obliged to make the heroine, Hester, mar- 
 ried in secret to the father of her child, because other-
 
 Laughter Limited 289 
 
 wise it would not be possible to show the picture. And 
 a part was written in for me a Spanish dancer that 
 tried to vamp the juvenile away from Hester. But 
 outside of that the story was practically the way the 
 author had written it. 
 
 Well, we had been working on this picture for over 
 two weeks and things was going unusually well. Milton 
 had hired Joe for Nicky's camera, on Nicky's recom- 
 mendation, and undoubtedly Joe was a wonderful cam- 
 era man. Also Milt was glad to hire Bert Green for 
 stills, because of course Bert was an old friend from 
 his own home town of Stonewall. Slim Rolf was back 
 with us, too, Big Benny pointing out that he was the 
 one best bet for publicity and besides, he, Benny, had 
 known Slim for years. So we were a happy family 
 once more, and I'll say the picture looked like it was 
 certainly going to be a knockout. And then one day 
 we run against a awful snag. 
 
 You see this Hester in the story, she has a baby, and 
 really if you was to cut it out there would be no story 
 to it. But it seems the Big Egg got to thinking it over 
 and talked with Milton about it, and told Milton what 
 a serious thing it was to run 'up against the National 
 Board of Censorship and that many a expensive fillum 
 had been made and then they had to throw it out be- 
 cause of just some little thing like that. Well, it seems 
 that Milton pointed out to Benny that Hester was mar- 
 ried, and that the both of them had been born once, and 
 Benny had to admit it, but thought they had better 
 consult Nicky before they went any further. So they 
 sent for Nicky and after two hours he come out boiling,
 
 290 Laughter Limited 
 
 but licked, parked himself in my light-blue silk dress- 
 ing room and exploded, for he knew that was a safe 
 place to do it. 
 
 "They make me wild!" he bellowed. "They are 
 mad as hatters! Change The Scarlet Letter? Good 
 Lord, haven't they changed it enough already ? Benny 
 suggested that I get Hester into some business compli- 
 cation as a substitution for her child ! Heaven defend 
 us!" 
 
 "But, Nicky/' I says to him, "it isn't Benny that's to 
 blame; it's them censors! Gee! Sometimes when I think 
 of anybody telling me what I can or can't see, it makes 
 me so wild, Nicky, I could blow up !" 
 
 "Oh, they are probably good enough as people," says 
 he. "But nobody is good enough to tell an artist in any 
 line what work he shall do or how it shall be done. 
 Let them take or leave the finished product, by all 
 means, Bonnie. But allow the public itself to judge 
 of moral values, and of decency! I for one have great 
 faith in the intelligence of my fellow countrymen and 
 women. If a show is dirty they can be pretty safely 
 trusted not to accept it. They will simply call in the 
 police, and that will put an end to it." 
 
 "Well, I personally myself don't see how anybody 
 can be conceited enough to accept the job of censoring," 
 I says thoughtfully. "Yet you got to admit, Nicky, 
 that in the old days there was some pretty raw pictures 
 shown." 
 
 "But they didn't last !" says he, quick. "They were 
 withdrawn at the first public protest. And anyhow, 
 that was in the old days when pictures were a wildcat
 
 Laughter Limited 291 
 
 enterprise. And now Why, the darn thing doesn't 
 
 work anyhow, no matter how you look at it. For 
 example, remember that German picture? A crazy 
 man's mind, exposed most realistically. Yet it gets by 
 the censors while my own company, an American con- 
 cern, is afraid to let me faithfully film a great Ameri- 
 can classic by one of the greatest writers our country 
 has produced all because the most common event 
 in life, with the exception of death, occurs in it. 
 Bah!" 
 
 "But, Nicky, Nicky!" I says. "Some control has 
 got to be put on everything. Otherwise we would get a 
 lot of awful books and pictures and so forth. I wish 
 I had the faith in the good sense and inborn decency 
 of people that you got. But I can't have it, Nicky. 
 I lived in a small country village too long." 
 
 "What?" says he indignantly. "Why, with the 
 amount of education there is in this country to-day 
 the people are perfectly competent to act as their own 
 
 censors." 
 
 "And there are also a lot of nitwits that will pay 
 out good money to get hold of a little dirt," I reminded 
 him. 
 
 "But what I am making in The Scarlet Letter isn't 
 dirt, you ignorant child !" Nicky shouted at me. "It's 
 life it's life, I tell you; and life isn't dirty. But a lot 
 of boobs who are permitted to judge haven't found 
 out the distinction as yet!" 
 
 "The picture-going public, Nicky," I says, "is much 
 like a classroom in an old-fashioned public school. 
 The big majority are kept back by the few. You can't
 
 292 Laughter Limited 
 
 safely promote the class until the nitwits have caught 
 up a little with the normal kids." 
 
 "You said a mouthful," retorted Nickolls grimly, 
 "and that without knowing it. It is just as wrong to 
 hold back a normal audience from an adult representa- 
 tion of life through the medium of art, as it was to 
 keep back your roomful of normal children on account 
 of the presence among them of some who were sub- 
 normal. We can't go on forever making pictures pri- 
 marily for old maids and for children ! We can make 
 separate pictures for them, yes, but we must grow up. 
 It's time." 
 
 "Sweet daddy!" says I. "If it wasn't for the old 
 maids and the sweet young things there wouldn't be no 
 business for the movies ! And what is more, J. Austin 
 Nickolls, I got a very clear idea that art can be made 
 out of some subject which nobody can take any ex- 
 ceptions to, just as easy as it can out of the other kind 
 of thing, and that it can be just as first-class art, too, 
 if you are artist enough to make it right. So why not 
 simplify matters by choosing that kind of a story, and 
 then everybody will be satisfied ?" 
 
 Nicky give me a long stare at that, and got up. 
 
 "No wonder you are a success in the pictures !" he 
 says. 
 
 And without another word he walked away, leaving 
 me to wonder was that remark a compliment or a in- 
 sult? 
 
 However, in the end the office decided to take a 
 chance on the censors and left Hester Prynne's baby 
 in the story, but decided they would cut out the con-
 
 Laughter Limited 293 
 
 ventional shot showing Hester holding up a darling 
 little pair of knitted boots. So Nicky forgave Benny 
 and Milt, and recommenced work on the picture in- 
 stead of walking out on them and jumping in the ocean 
 to drown himself, like he had announced he would. 
 
 And then, just as things had got settled down again 
 and was running smoothly, there come a interruption 
 of another kind which lamed the production for quite 
 some time. 
 
 They say that coming events cast their shadows be- 
 fore them, but I always say you never know what the 
 morrow will bring forth to steal mommer's stuff. 
 And in this case it wasn't even a case of the morrow, 
 but a mere matter of a few hours. 
 
 Well, this day things had started out good, with 
 perfect weather, a perfect breakfast, the car running 
 fine, and practically no bills in the morning's mail. 
 My make-up went on right the very first time, and I 
 was singing to myself when I went down on the set. 
 Everybody I met seemed like they was in a good 
 humor, too, and the work went well all morning. Talk 
 about casting a shadow before, why this event I am 
 going to tell you about didn't cast any more shadow 
 than a split hair! I don't remember when I felt so 
 light-hearted. Even mommer's telephoning at lunch 
 time to say she was coming down later and watch me 
 work didn't upset me like it usually done. 
 
 Well anyways, things were fine, even if Nicky him- 
 self was not on the set this day, but leaving the stuff 
 to Louie. 
 
 "Say, Louie," I says when we went back to the stage
 
 294 Laughter Limited 
 
 after our noon diet "Say, Louie, where is Nicky 
 gone, do you know ?" 
 
 "I don't know, unless he's staying home, sore," says 
 Louie with a grin. "Maybe he don't feel so good after 
 that jam he was in last night." 
 
 "What jam is that?" I says. 
 
 "Didn't you hear about it ?" says Louie. "Why, it's 
 all over town. It was with your old friend Greg Strick- 
 land." 
 
 "What was it, Louie?" I says, trying not to seem as 
 nervous as I felt. 
 
 "Well, as far as I can make out, see," says Louie, 
 "this Strickland had it in for Nicky, see, and last night 
 they were both to a party out at Atlas Smith's place. 
 Well, Strickland had some wren along and they were 
 both pretty wet, I guess. Anyways, Nicky met up 
 with them in the garden on that little Jap-bridge effect 
 Atlas has over his swimming pool. And when Nick 
 seen who it was coming towards him over this bridge, 
 see, why he steps to one side to avoid speaking, and 
 Strickland seen his chance and without any warning, 
 why he soaks Nicky one in the jaw and Nicky fell over 
 and landed in the pool." 
 
 "Well, there was a big crowd around, see?" Louie 
 went on. "And they got Nicky right out. His head 
 was hurt pretty bad by striking on the edge of the pool, 
 but he was all for licking Strickland good and plenty, 
 just the same." 
 
 "And did he?" says I. 
 
 "Naw!" says Louie. "Strickland didn't stay long
 
 Laughter Limited 295 
 
 enough for him to. By the time Nick was out of the 
 pool that bad actor had left the party without even say- 
 ing good night." 
 
 "Whew," I says. "I will have to call Nicky up when 
 we quit this afternoon." 
 
 "It's a poor way to get a bad head," says Louie; 
 "and I'll bet his is aching !" 
 
 Well, after that we went back to the big scene we 
 was shooting, which was of Plymouth Rock or some 
 place, and my mind was at once on my job again, the 
 way it always is when I am acting. In the sequence 
 we was making I was this Spanish dancer that was 
 vamping Herman, our juvenile, who was playing the 
 part of this young clergyman. So naturally I kind of 
 forgot Nicky and everything else for a while. And 
 then in the middle of the afternoon Louie decided he 
 would shoot the same stuff in another background as 
 well, so that there would be two choices in tomorrow's 
 dailies. Consequently there was a wait while an in- 
 terior was dressed for him, and during it I was chatting 
 with Trixie when Eddie the w. k. call boy came and 
 says that I was wanted on the telephone. 
 
 "Say, how do you get that way?" I says. "I'm on 
 the set, ain't I ?" 
 
 "I know," says he, kind of upset for him, "but it's 
 real urgent, I think, Miss Delane, or I wouldn't of come 
 for you." 
 
 Well, I took a look around, and as things didn't 
 seem as if they would be ready for some little time yet, 
 why, I says to Trixie, wait, dear, I will be right back
 
 296 Laughter Limited 
 
 and tell you the rest about how that new coat of mine 
 is going to be made, and then I went to my dressing 
 room and picked up the receiver of the telephone. 
 
 "Hello !" I says. "This is me speaking. Who is it, 
 please ?" 
 
 At first all I could hear was a sort of confused sound, 
 like someone crying. And then I made out my name. 
 
 "Yes, it's me!" I says. "Who wants me?" 
 
 "Come quickly!" says the voice. A woman's, I 
 could get that now. 
 
 "Mommer, is it you?" I says frightened. 
 
 "It is Anita," says the voice. "Bonnie, say you will 
 come. You must, you must!" 
 
 Well, when I heard who it was I went kind of cold 
 all over me. The iron nerve of her, to call me up at 
 all, much less ask me to do anything for her ! 
 
 "I can't go anywheres," I says. "I am on a set. 
 And if I wasn't I don't see how you could expect me to 
 come, Anita, after everything!" 
 
 "Bonnie, Bonnie!" she wailed. "You must come! 
 Something terrible has happened, and you are the only 
 friend I got in the world." 
 
 "I can't," I says. "I tell you I am working. I got 
 to go right back." 
 
 "You must come !" says Anita, and there was a ter- 
 rible sound to her voice as she said it. "Nothing is 
 so important as your coming. I've got to have help." 
 
 "But what's wrong?" I says. "Tell me, and I'll try 
 and get over later." 
 
 "I can't tell you on the phone," says she. "Oh, 
 come, please, please!"
 
 Laughter Limited 297 
 
 "Where are you?" I says. 
 
 "I'm at Stricky's bungalow. Oh, I'm going mad, I 
 tell you. If you wait any longer it will be too late. 
 Can't you understand too late! Come, Bonnie, you 
 must, you must!" 
 
 She started laughing and crying then and I suppose 
 dropped the receiver. I could still hear her faintly, 
 but she had evidently left the phone. And then some- 
 body screamed. Such a scream as I hope I will never 
 hear again thin and high and despairing and full of 
 fear. Then no sound at all. 
 
 I stood at that phone with a sensation like I simply 
 must see through it to what was happening at the other 
 end, my heart beating like I'd been running a race. 
 There could be no fake about what I had just heard, 
 that was sure. A sort of wild fear took hold of me. 
 
 What was wrong? What crazy unbelievable thing 
 had happened? The sinister something that was for- 
 ever fighting the beauty around me crept out of its hid- 
 ing place again and breathed its foul breath on me. 
 My nerves shrank away from the horror of it, and yet 
 there had been a tone in Anita's voice which forced 
 me in the other direction. It was just woman calling to 
 woman. More than that, it was a human in need call- 
 ing out in despair to the only one it could think of 
 myself ! I had to answer it. I had to go ! 
 
 It's the truth that from that moment on I forgot the 
 studio where I was, forgot the people waiting on the 
 set, the work I was due to do there, and absolutely 
 everything except that terrible haunting cry of Anita's. 
 It wiped out even the recollection of how she had
 
 298 Laughter Limited 
 
 double-crossed me, and all I thought of was that I posi- 
 tively must get to her as quick as ever I could. 
 
 The idea of waiting to take off my Spanish costume 
 or my make-up never even come into my head as I 
 rushed for the open door, down the long narrow flight 
 of stairs, across a couple of empty stages, headed for 
 the main door, and nearly knocking Slim Rolf over 
 in the corridor as I ran out. He yelled some indignant 
 remark at me, I don't know what, for I paid no atten- 
 tion, but ran along the street to where my car was 
 parked at the extreme end of the crowded line. At 
 last I reached it, and somehow in another minute I 
 was headed away from the studio, my lace headdress 
 flying and flapping about me madly in the wind. 
 
 Stricky's bungalow was on a old street way over on 
 the edge of the West Adams district, a well built-up 
 neighborhood and exclusive, but the homes not very 
 close together. The house itself was a simple little one 
 of the old original California-bungalow type, and had 
 been put up when they made them of brown stained 
 shingles, and it had a heavy old buginvillaea vine hang- 
 ing dark and thick over the porch. When I parked 
 my car in front of it there was not a soul in sight, and 
 I thought my ! how still and quiet it is ! The only thing 
 moving anywheres was the sprayer playing quietly on 
 the lawn with a soft, wet, drippity-drop as it swung 
 around. 
 
 I went up the path with fast-beating heart, wonder- 
 ing at the unearthly quiet that hung about the place, 
 and the late afternoon sun sent my fantastic shadow 
 scuttling ahead of me as I run up the steps. The front
 
 Laughter Limited 299 
 
 door was standing wide open, and after kind of halt- 
 ing on the door-sill I went in and stopped in the hall. 
 
 "Anita! Anita!" I called, my own voice sounding 
 like a stranger to me. 
 
 But there was no answer. Not even a sound. So 
 taking all my courage in my hands I parted the curtains 
 and went into the sitting room. At first I thought there 
 was nobody in it, but after a moment my eyes grew ac- 
 customed to the dimness and I seen that I was wrong. 
 Somebody was there. It was Stricky, spread face 
 downwards on the floor, and beside him lay Nickolls' 
 revolver.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 TT7HO had killed Gregory Strickland? That was 
 * * the first question flashed into my mind as 
 I stood there in the doorway of his parlor, holding on 
 to the portieres and staring down at his body. 
 
 The room itself looked like a storm or something 
 had wrecked it and undoubtedly a emotional one had. 
 The center table was overturned and the lamp smashed 
 on the floor, also a vase with spilled flowers and a 
 coupla torn magazines. Two chairs was upset, the rug 
 was rumpled, and partially on it but with his still face 
 against the parquet, lay Strick, his arms sprawled out 
 and his handsome Jap kimono all twisted about him in 
 a way that would of been comical if it hadn't been so 
 ghastly. My throat was terrible dry and with a sort 
 of crick in it, and for the first moment or two I couldn't 
 make no noise at all. Then finally my voice come back 
 to me and I managed to let out a cry. 
 
 "Anita!" I screamed. "Oh, Anita, where are you? 
 What has happened ?" 
 
 But nobody answered. Well, I thought, maybe she 
 has fainted or something and no wonder, for I then 
 remembered things had sounded that way over the 
 telephone, and so I started out to see could I find 
 her any place. It took a lot of nerve to let go of the 
 curtains and walk around Greg but somehow I done 
 it, and reached the dining room beyond. Nobody was 
 there, either, only a table where two had eaten evidently 
 
 300
 
 Laughter Limited 301 
 
 a late combination breakfast and lunch, and the coffee 
 was in the cups yet and a used napkin on the floor 
 where somebody getting up had dropped it. The pan- 
 try was empty, too, and there was no one in the kitchen, 
 although I knew that generally Strick kept a Jap ser- 
 vant. Somehow it made me feel awful queer to see 
 these simple domestic items all as per usual while that 
 thing lay in the room beyond. I found I was walking 
 quiet, though swift, as I went into the hall again and 
 paused outside the door to Stricky's bedroom, which 
 was the only other room in the house. 
 
 It was a hard thing to do, opening that door, for I 
 dreaded to think what state Anita would be in, but I 
 opened it just the same, calling to her again. But 
 this room, too, was perfectly empty, with the bed 
 rumpled like Strick had got up late and a few of his 
 clothes was laying about. That was all. The top 
 bureau draw was open and handkerchiefs and collars 
 was scattered about. The wind, that soft California 
 wind with the oil and the cedar and the burning eu- 
 calyptus leaves in it, stirred the bright yellow curtains 
 at the open window and they was the only things mov- 
 ing in the whole entire house. 
 
 For what seemed to be about a year I stood there 
 thinking where was Anita? Where had she gone? 
 Was it she who had killed Greg, or had he done it his 
 own self? And why? If he had committed suicide, 
 why should she of run away before I got there? I 
 couldn't make it out. Of course she might of gone for 
 the police, but that didn't seem hardly likely, what with 
 a telephone right in the house. Whatever had been
 
 302 Laughter Limited 
 
 pulled off, her nerve had lasted long enough to let her 
 get me on the wire, which made it seem as if some third 
 party had been present when she phoned. That must 
 of been it ! She had certainly said it would be too late 
 if I didn't come at once. Yes, someone else had most 
 likely been in the bungalow at that time, and the murder 
 had been going on while she was phoning. But who 
 could that third party of been, and why should I espe- 
 cially be drawn into it? 
 
 Suddenly it come over me with full force whose 
 shooting iron that was on the parlor floor. It was 
 Nicky's ! I crept back to the parlor to make absolutely 
 sure there was no mistake. Yes, it was the gun I had 
 used in Alias Cinderella, and which Greg had stolen 
 from me later. I remembered how Nicky had asked 
 for it and said it was his father's and so forth. Not a 
 doubt was in my mind but that he had made Greg re- 
 turn it. And then there was that trouble the two of 
 them had out at Atlas Smith's party. There must of 
 been more to the incident than I knew of. Oh, it was 
 awful, too awful ! 
 
 But what was I to do? The first person I thought 
 of calling was Adele. I must have mommer at once, 
 for I needed her something awful. By now she was 
 probably at the studio, and I could get her there. The 
 telephone stood on a little table just beyond where 
 Stricky lay, and I was forced to pass him again to get 
 it. Somehow I couldn't endure to touch him, even to 
 change his dreadful position or cover him up. How 
 I felt about him lying there I don't hardly know, ex- 
 cept that he was unreal yet terrible.
 
 Laughter Limited 303 
 
 The receiver was hanging off the telephone just like 
 Anita had dropped it, and before I could get Central 
 I had to put it back on the hook for a while and wait, 
 and believe me I sat pretty near as quiet as my com- 
 panion. Then at last I got the operator and a moment 
 or two later the studio answered. 
 
 "Silvermount Studios," says girl's voice with a 
 deadly commonplace tone that jarred on my nerves. 
 
 "Is that you, Mabel ?" I says shakily. "This is Miss 
 Delane speaking. Is mommer on the lot?" 
 
 "Sure, Miss Delane," says Mabel cheerfully. "She 
 come in a minute ago." 
 
 "Say get this right, Mabel," I says. "I am at Mr. 
 Strickland's bungalow. Get word at once to mommer 
 to come right out here as fast as she can. Tell her 
 something serious is wrong. Get her immediately, even 
 if you have to leave the board yourself. It's life 
 and death. Do you understand ?" 
 
 "My Gawd, yes !" says she. 
 
 "Hurry, Mabel," I says. 
 
 Then I hung up and sat there trembling, not know- 
 ing just what to do next, and as I sat that way I heard 
 somebody come up the path and cross the porch. At 
 the sound I come to life and to my feet. Anita! It 
 must be her, come back. I flew to the window and 
 peeked out between the curtains and saw that it was 
 not Anita after all, but a policeman, and at the same 
 instant he rung the doorbell. 
 
 I drew back into the room trying to think quick, and 
 as I done so I noticed that gun again and realized that 
 probably nobody but mommer and me knew whose it
 
 304 Laughter Limited 
 
 was. With one motion I had it in my hand, and was 
 looking around wildly to see where I could hide it. 
 Then the doorbell rung again, and that decided me. I 
 hid the gun down the front of my waist, and with it 
 pressing against my body, cold and painful, I went to 
 open the door. 
 
 Outside on the porch stood a handsome young cop 
 and his smiling face took on a look of surprise when 
 he seen me and that reminded me I was in my Spanish 
 costume all this while. 
 
 "Say !" says this cop in a pleasant voice. "You got 
 your car parked the wrong way. You can't leave it like 
 that, miss!" 
 
 Whatter you know ! I pretty near died of the shock 
 of this remark. Here I was all keyed up for Gawd 
 knew what, and he pulled a line like that on me. I 
 leaned up against the door frame and commenced to 
 laugh and cry, and for a moment he just stood and 
 stared at me like I had gone cuckoo and guess I had, 
 a little bit. Then I controlled myself. After all, the 
 sight of him was a relief. 
 
 "Oh, officer!" I says, gasping and reaching out to 
 him. "I am glad it's you. Someone is killed, 
 inside !" 
 
 "What?" says he. "Are you kidding or what?" 
 
 "No, no !" I cried. "It's Gregory Strickland ! Come 
 in, please! Oh, thank God, you come!" 
 
 Well, he didn't stop to argue then, but brushed past 
 me and into the room where I pointed. On the door- 
 sill he stopped and give a whistle. 
 
 "Merciful Mother!" says he. Then he done what
 
 Laughter Limited 305 
 
 I had not dared to do. He went over to Strick and 
 turned his head and felt his hands. Then he straight- 
 ened up and faced me, looking quite another person 
 from the boy I had just let in. 
 
 "He's warm yet!" he says. "It must of just hap- 
 pened. What did you do it for?" 
 
 The room went spinning around me at them words. 
 What had I killed Greg for I! Up to that moment 
 it hadn't even come into my head that anybody would 
 think I was the murderer. And now I seen the fix 
 I was in. I suppose I pretty near fainted, but not 
 quite. There come a moment of terrible confusion to 
 jrny mind, and then somehow I was sitting on the sofa 
 and the cop was holding a glass of water to my lips. 
 
 "There now !" says he. "You'll be all right. Just 
 set quiet and don't you attempt to move while I call 
 up headquarters !" 
 
 "I didn't do it !" I says feebly. "I tell you I didn't 
 doit!" 
 
 "Who did, then?" says he. 
 
 "I don't know," I gasped. 
 
 "Well," says the officer grimly, "you'll get plenty of 
 chance to explain to a jury how you happened to be 
 here!" 
 
 He grabbed up the telephone ard commenced talking, 
 while I sat limp where he had put me, too dazed by 
 all I had been through to attempt to move, even if there 
 had been no gun trained at me, which there by now 
 was, for the cop had pulled his out. 
 
 "Shooting !" he says into the receiver giving the ad- 
 dress. "Looks like a murder. Spanish woman. Yeh,
 
 306 Laughter Limited 
 
 I'm holding her all right. Better send an ambulance 
 as well. All right, captain !" Then he turned back to 
 me, his face as hard as nails. 
 
 "Mighty rotten business," he says. "Movie folks, 
 ain't you? I thought as much! Rotten lot, I always 
 say they are. Well, I guess this will be about the end 
 of the wild times for a couple of youse, now!" 
 
 I couldn't answer, for my voice was gone again. 
 And anyways, my mind was on other matters be- 
 sides setting a mere typical bonehead right against his 
 will, because even in these extreme circumstances my 
 brains hadn't gone back on me to such a extent but that 
 I could see he was just that, although I couldn't 
 hardly blame him for thinking like he did about my 
 guilt. 
 
 Neither could I help but see that I was in a very bad 
 fix. Being found alone with a dead body, especially 
 one belonging to a person with who you are known to 
 have a quarrel, is no joke at any time. Of course I had 
 been at the studio up to half an hour ago, but then on 
 the other hand I had left it without notice to anybody 
 and in a very peculiar way. Nobody, not even Eddie 
 the callboy, knew who it was had wanted me on the 
 phone that time, and it begun to look like unless Anita 
 come back pretty pronto, I was going to be out of luck. 
 But then I remembered that perhaps Anita herself had 
 killed Strick and in that case the police station was not 
 where she would head for, but quite to the contrary, 
 because from what I knew of Anita she was not the 
 type of girl to give herself up, but was far more likely 
 to give a friend up, and it begun more clearly every
 
 Laughter Limited 307 
 
 minute to look like that was exactly what she had done 
 to me. 
 
 Of course the guilty one might still be Nickolls, for 
 he and Strick had lots of reason for a quarrel, while 
 Anita and Strick was sweeties. All this and a plenty 
 more kept pouring through my head in a confused 
 stream while I and the officer waited for what seemed 
 like hours, but which, by the clock on the mantel, was 
 actually less than twenty minutes. However, under 
 such a circumstance as I was in, why a person gets a 
 chance to go over their whole past and I did, including 
 how a McFadden was never before arrested as far as 
 I knew, and what an end to come to after working like 
 I done all my life, and so forth, and I'll say my cour- 
 age was pretty well gone by the time a couple cars 
 stopped out in front. 
 
 Well, when I heard these two cars stop, one right 
 after the other, why naturally I made a dash for the 
 window, and then I felt the arm of the law in reality, 
 for the cop's arm caught mine and he threw me back 
 onto the sofa in a way made me realize for fair that 
 I was now no lady but a mere prisoner. 
 
 "Cut that, now!" he says. "The crowd will see 
 you soon enough!" 
 
 Well, of course it wasn't the mob I wanted to see 
 or the detectives either, and I don't know where the 
 crowd come from, but it was the truth that right on 
 the heels of the cops a few people had at once gath- 
 ered around. I could hear them talking and making 
 remarks, and over all Adele's voice as she told the 
 police just where they got off, and why.
 
 308 Laughter Limited 
 
 "Hey ! You will so let me right in !" says mommer, 
 high and firm. "I tell you my daughter is in there and 
 she telephoned me to come. Prisoner nothing! I'll 
 see her at once. You just get out of my way afore I 
 have to push you out and you have to arrest the both 
 of us!" 
 
 Oh, but her words was music in my ears ! And the 
 sight of her as she burst into that room was like a 
 rampant angel or something. 
 
 "Oh, mommer, mommer!" I cried, and in another 
 instant I fell in her arms. 
 
 She held me fast and courage come flowing back to 
 my heart even if I was at the same time crying it out 
 on her shoulder. How wonderful she was! Her 
 daughter! She claimed me for it, even in a circum- 
 stance like that ! The thought give me strength to get 
 myself together and act a little more like a human be- 
 ing and less like a guilty party. 
 
 "What is all this about ?" says mommer, patting my 
 head and glaring at the inspectors who followed her 
 in, over the top of it. "Strickland murdered? Good 
 Gawd ! Well, it certainly served him right and he had 
 it coming to him, but my Bonnie had nothing to do 
 with it, I'll tell you right now!" 
 
 "Deserved it, did he, eh?" says the inspector, going 
 over and giving a look at Strick, but not touching him. 
 "Perhaps your daughter has a grudge against him, 
 Mrs. eh, what name?" 
 
 "Delane!" says mommer. "Mrs. Delane and this is 
 Miss Bonnie Delane, the famous star." 
 
 "Whew!" says the inspector. "Is that correct?
 
 Laughter Limited 309 
 
 Well, I've always heard you picture people lived a wild 
 life. What did you say this man's name was? Strick- 
 land ? What made you think he deserved such a finish 
 eh?" 
 
 "Because he was a no-good lowlife!" says mommer 
 hotly. Then she caught my eye and stopped short. Al- 
 together too short, as I could see from the inspector's 
 face. "That is," she went on, "they say he had a bad 
 reputation." 
 
 "And yet your daughter is found here under most 
 peculiar circumstances," says he. "H'm!" Then he 
 turned to me, "Did you do it?" he says like a shot out 
 of a gun. 
 
 "No!" I says. "I knew him a long time, and I 
 wasn't friends with him. But I didn't do it. I come 
 here on a hurry call over the telephone and found it 
 it already done." 
 
 "Did he call you ?" says the cop. 
 
 "No," says I. "A woman did. Anita Lauber." 
 
 "H'm !" says he again, plainly not believing me one 
 scrap. 
 
 Then he commenced walking around the room, look- 
 ing for something. My heart come up in my throat as 
 I watched, and began beating there to such a extent 
 that I could hardly breathe. All of a sudden the in- 
 spector stopped walking in front of the young cop, the 
 first one, and shot him a remark. 
 
 "Where is the weapon, Brady?" he says. The 
 young Irishman opened his eyes very wide. 
 
 "Why, I don't know, sir!" says he. "I don't re- 
 member seeing any !"
 
 310 Laughter Limited 
 
 "That's a hell of a note!" says his superior, real 
 mad. "What were you doing all the time I was on 
 my way out ? The man didn't die without cause. He 
 was shot. The gun didn't walk away. Search the 
 woman !" 
 
 I shrunk back against Adele when he said that. I 
 felt that if any of them touched me I would die. I 
 couldn't stand it. If they was to look me over they 
 would get it anyways, so why not volunteer and save 
 myself the mortification? Thinking this I put my 
 hand down the front of my dress and pulled out Nicky's 
 gun. It was the only thing to do. 
 
 "Here it is !" I says. "I picked it up from the floor 
 when I come in." 
 
 "Aha ! I thought as much !" says the inspector, his 
 face lighting up with satisfaction, and reaching out for 
 the gun. I let him take it and he slipped it into his 
 pocket. "I am much obliged, Miss Delane," says he. 
 "A very simple case, this, as I see it. Jealousy, I sup- 
 pose. Will you come along quietly? I assure you it 
 will be far better for all of us if you will." 
 
 I nodded dumbly, and patted Adele on the hand, for 
 she had commenced to cry. 
 
 "It's all right, mommer," I says. "I am not guilty 
 and they can't hurt me any. Wait and see." 
 
 "Guilty?" says mommer between sobs. "I should 
 say not ! Why, mister, that gun is merely a stage one 
 and belongs to Austin Nickolls, her director. He 
 loaned it to her." 
 
 "Well, she seems to of made considerable use of it!" 
 says he.
 
 Laughter Limited 311 
 
 "I tell you I didn't !" I says wildly. "I never fired 
 it but once in my life and that was in a picture !" 
 
 Well, just as I had shrieked this out we heard a bell 
 clanging down the street, and outside the door the by 
 now quite large crowd set up a murmuring and so 
 forth, and it was the ambulance at last, and pretty soon 
 in come the doctor, and still another cop was with him. 
 
 "Hello, Faulk !" says this newcomer. "Hello, Brady. 
 What's up ?" Then he seen Strickland, and next my- 
 self, standing between a spare cop or so, and mommer. 
 His eyes like all the rest, nearly bulged out at my 
 clothes. 
 
 "Phew!" says he. "Little side show from Mexico, 
 eh ? Well, let's see how much damage the lady did !" 
 
 That was the most awful part of all, the way every- 
 body took for granted that I was guilty. The doc 
 went at once in the same casual way over to Stricky, 
 and knelt down beside him. I closed my eyes as he 
 leaned over and commenced to turn the body around. 
 The room went black to me and there was a moment 
 of deathly silence. And then there come a strange 
 sound. It was a full moment before my brain reg- 
 istered what that sound meant. And then in a mad 
 rush of understanding I knew. 
 
 Stricky had moaned. 
 
 "Good Lord!" says the inspector. "Then he's not 
 dead?" 
 
 "Not in the least," says the glorious, handsome won- 
 derful young doctor in accents like magic. "It's hard 
 to kill these picture hams they are a tough lot. He's 
 had a bad blow on the head. Very likely hit it on the
 
 312 Laughter Limited 
 
 table when he fell. He's been shot in a couple of places 
 all right, but they don't amount to much. He'll be 
 around in a day or two, and able to start suit to his 
 heart's content!" 
 
 Over the clamor that arose then come Adele's voice, 
 strong and clear as a steam whistle. 
 
 "If Stricky ain't dead, then you can't hold Bonnie !" 
 she yelled, her old capable self once more. 
 
 "Yes, we can," says the inspector sharply, like a lion 
 cheated of his prey. "We must make sure that he will 
 live. I shall have to make an arrest. Sorry, Mrs. 
 Delane, but it can't be helped. The evidence is too 
 strong, and we don't allow folks to go around shooting 
 up the town, you know!" 
 
 Well, that was a body blow again, but in comparison 
 to what five minutes ago I had thought I was up 
 against, it was a mere nothing ! Stricky was groaning 
 good and healthy as they carried him out to the am- 
 bulance, and I had great hopes. And considering he 
 had been cheated of a first-class Spanish-American 
 murder by a hair's breadth the inspector acted real 
 nice, because he let us all go to court in my own car in- 
 stead of the black Maria. And to tell the truth even 
 court listened well to me in comparison to that awful 
 bungalow and the horrors of the past hour. 
 
 I don't know have you ever been in court that is, 
 as a prisoner. But if ever you have you will appre- 
 ciate how different a place like that looks to a near- 
 convict from the time a person goes there merely to 
 look on and say ain't crime disgusting and thank Gawd 
 I am not in that class and so forth the way some people
 
 Laughter Limited 313 
 
 do. And if a person is at all sensitive, why after once 
 being- innocent but hauled before a police captain which 
 is where we was hauled, why they will in future for 
 the rest of their life feel hesitating about looking over 
 even the animals in a zoo, because who knows but they 
 got minds and can suffer the same as we ?" 
 
 Well, no sensitive-plant in any botanical garden had 
 anything on me for misery when I stood up before the 
 captain and told my story about Anita and Strick and 
 how she had phoned me and so forth. But somehow 
 I went through with it. I did it as brave and quiet as 
 I could even when Nicky's gun was brought out of his 
 pocket by the inspector and laid on the desk in front 
 of the captain. 
 
 "So this belongs to Austin Nickolls, does it?" says 
 the captain. "A fine chap I met him once. Didn't 
 I hear some talk about a row at Atlas Smith's place 
 last night ? Where is Nickolls, anyhow ?" 
 
 "Please, I think he is at home," I says. "If he had 
 anything to do with this, Your Honor, he would be the 
 first to report it his own self !" 
 
 "I believe you!" says the captain. "Say, Brady, just 
 see if you can get a line on Nickolls, will you? Tele- 
 phone his house !" 
 
 Well, this Brady he went away to do like he was told, 
 and mommer went to another booth to call the studio 
 and get Milton Sherrill, for the captain was a good 
 scout and a fan of mine and Nicky's and says well he 
 guessed he could let me go out on bail if it was big 
 enough, and of course Milt was the financial man to 
 do it. And also some officers then went off to see could
 
 314 Laughter Limited 
 
 they locate Anita any place, and for another long dread- 
 ful spell of endless minutes all I could do was sit still 
 and wait and wonder. 
 
 When I thought of Milton Sherrill and the errand 
 which he would presently come here on, I wished that 
 I \vas dead, or at least could somehow die before he 
 saw me, or rather before I seen the coldness which 
 must surely come on his face when he found me a jail 
 bird, or practically the same thing. Whatever I had 
 hoped and dreamed of for the future, as far as it con- 
 cerned Milt, why that was all over now. I was dis- 
 graced in his eyes beyond any hope, because believe me 
 Milt didn't seem the kind of man who would ever think 
 of marrying a person who had been arrested on a 
 charge of the kind that I had been. And while I never 
 for one moment doubted but that he would come at 
 once and go on my bail, and so forth, why the news- 
 papers would hardly keep my secret, and he would put 
 me out of his mind as far as serious intentions went, 
 because of course his wife would have to be without a 
 reproach, even a false one. It was realizing this wiped 
 all hope out for me, and now that my future life was 
 ruined, why I wasn't sure but that it would be a whole 
 lot happier for all concerned if I could be hanged for 
 Strick's murder after all. 
 
 Well, in a police court time don't hang heavy on a 
 person's hands, at least not if they are the prisoner and 
 things keep developing in the way of evidence. And 
 just as I had got so low in my mind that if I had got 
 any lower I would of been sunk entirely, why in comes 
 Brady with news to the effect that John Austin Nick-
 
 Laughter Limited 315 
 
 oils was not only out but he hadn't been home for the 
 last twenty-four hours, and his car hadn't been home, 
 either. 
 
 "That looks bad!" says the captain briskly, in the 
 horrid way a person naturally does when it is their 
 business to hope for the worst. "Here Nickolls has a 
 fight with Gregory Strickland, and the next thing we 
 know, Strickland is found unconscious in his home, 
 with two gun wounds in him made by Nickolls' re- 
 volver, and Nickolls has vanished without a word !" 
 
 Well, we was all on our feet by then, I'll tell the 
 world, our eyes glued to the police captain as he talked 
 with relish. And because of this, why we didn't notice 
 anybody new had come in until a voice behind me in- 
 terrupted. 
 
 "How do you know those shots were fired from 
 Nickolls' gun ?" says the voice, very clear and quiet. 
 
 I turned around, trembling all over, and there was 
 Milton Sherrill. It was him who had spoke. Then he 
 pointed at the gun, which still lay on the captain's desk 
 where the inspector had put it. 
 
 "Has anybody taken the trouble to break that gun ?" 
 Milt went on. 
 
 There was a half moment of surprised chatter before 
 the captain commenced to rap for order and silence, 
 and so forth. But he took up the gun and broke it, and 
 behold ! the gun was completely empty ! 
 
 "Well, I'll be damned!" says the captain, mad as a 
 hatter and immediately finding himself a alibi. "Why 
 the devil didn't you look at this thing properly, Faulk, 
 before you handed it over? This gun is not only un-
 
 316 Laughter Limited 
 
 loaded but it has not been fired for a long time. Smell 
 of it!" 
 
 Well, the inspector took the gun and smelled of it 
 like he had been told, and looked a perfect fool. But 
 only for a moment. Then he turned on poor Brady, 
 who seemed the most convenient goat. 
 
 "Say, Brady, why the hell didn't you break this 
 gun?" he demanded furious. "The idea, you block- 
 head!" 
 
 "Excuse me, sir," says Brady, as red as a beet, "but 
 it was you who took it off of her." 
 
 And then nobody could say a word because they 
 had all acted like a bunch of dumb-bell cops out of a 
 Knute Divers' comedy and talking wouldn't help any. 
 Milton Sherrill smiled a grim little smile, and come 
 over to my side. 
 
 "Don't you worry about this, B. McFadden!" he 
 says in a low tone. "I started pulling a few wires on 
 my way out, and the bail is all taken care of. I am 
 sorry to keep you so long, but I came as quickly as I 
 could." 
 
 "Oh, Milton !" I says. "Say it wasn't Nicky ! There 
 are other guns in the world, you know, and those two 
 had an awful row!" 
 
 "You have less faith in Nick than I have," says Milt 
 a little coolly, or so I imagined. "He has gone to San 
 Diego. He left after the rumpus last night, and has 
 been driving about like a madman ever since, to cool 
 off. He telephoned me from there, and so you see it 
 is impossible for him to be implicated in any way." 
 
 "Thank God !" says I. And then I went sort of cold
 
 Laughter Limited 317 
 
 all over, because why should Milt put so much stress 
 on Nicky's innocence and say so little about my own? 
 Was the stain on my good name working as fast as all 
 that? Oh, it was dreadful! All at once I realized I 
 had come to the end of my nerve. 
 
 "You and Adele had better come along in my car," 
 says Milt in that awful, tense, quiet way. "They don't 
 need you here any more, B., and won't need you again 
 unless Strickland makes a charge." 
 
 His tones was too much for me. I couldn't reason, 
 I couldn't protest. The world begun to go black before 
 my tired eyes and I felt like I was going crazy, or about 
 to die, or something, or both ! Milt did not care ! He 
 had come only for business reasons! What a fool I 
 was, what a fool, and how awfully, terribly, I loved 
 him ! The police-station walls commenced acting very 
 funny; they leaned towards each other. The ceiling 
 slanted and the floor raised up. And then all of a 
 sudden there was no Milt, no court room, no nothing. 
 Just a blackness where I was alone entirely alone.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 TT 7HEN I come to I was laying in my own bed, 
 ** in my own room with mommer sponging my 
 forehead with something cool and sweet-smelling, and 
 a doctor I had never seen before but he had a kind 
 face, well, he was saying something about overstrained 
 nerves and a long rest. 
 
 Now I'll tell the world that right up to the point of 
 this doctor saying this mouthful, I had an idea nerves 
 was something to be pulled as an excuse and nothing 
 more, and believe me they are all too often only that. 
 Nerves is mostly nonsense, but sometimes they do get 
 overstrained, and it sure seemed like mine had, and I 
 come to realize, through the week that followed with 
 me that had never before been sick in my life, laying 
 flat on my back, that maybe a rest now and then is as 
 important to a person's business or artistic career as 
 hard work is. Of course I had heard this remark made 
 in the past, but on account of pop being the one who 
 made it, why I had not thought it could be true. 
 
 So I just lay there quiet, seeing nobody except only 
 mommer, and allowing her to make up my mind for 
 me on every little matter. And all those members of 
 the public which their family has allowed them to take 
 the entire responsibility and do all the dirty work of 
 supporting the home and so forth, will at once realize 
 how much I enjoyed being sick. And all this time 
 
 318
 
 Laughter Limited 319 
 
 mommer wouldn't let me say one word about Stricky, 
 or the whole affair. 
 
 But being a healthy person by nature and disposition, 
 and a worker by habit, why there come a day when the 
 novelty wore off and I wanted to set up and eat meat 
 and hear the dirt. And it happened that this day Nick- 
 oils come to see how was I. Of course he had done it 
 every other day as well, but up to now I hadn't seen him 
 or Bert Green or even Axel, and Gawd knows nobody 
 could rightly accuse Axel of being a mental strain, but 
 mommer would let him up, either. Each day Milt had 
 called up or sent flowers and come to the house a lot. 
 But him I would not of faced at any price, just then. 
 
 Well, this meat-eating day I am telling you about, 
 Nicky come at the right moment. And when mommer 
 tiptoed in with some milk toast and the news that he 
 was downstairs I says for her to trade in them slops 
 for a hunk of raw beef or something and to send him 
 right up, because my mind had commenced to work, 
 and I might as well try it out on him as anybody. 
 
 "Oh, honey, I don't know should I let you!" says 
 mommer. "They say when the devil is ill the devil a 
 saint will be, but I always say a ounce of prevention is 
 better than a relapse !" 
 
 "Oh, send him up, mommer, please !" says I. "And 
 I will promise not to sprain my mind." 
 
 So mommer says all right, and steered the bread and 
 milk out again and pretty soon Nicky come clumping 
 up in the bashful way a decent bachelor has in a girl's 
 sick room, and the nicer they are the awkwarder. But 
 he was awful glad to see me, and set down at once on
 
 320 Laughter Limited 
 
 not alone the side of my bed but my hot water bottle as 
 well, only I wouldn't call his attention to it for fear of 
 embarrassing him worse. And he took both my hands 
 in his and kissed them ind couldn't say a word at first, 
 so I tactfully and affectionately did. 
 
 "Nicky dear!" I says. "Oh, but I am glad to see 
 you ! You are the only one I could talk to, and I just 
 got to talk I got such a lot of things I want to ask, 
 and mommer keeps giving me only a soft answer. 
 And believe me, Nicky, this is one time it don't turn 
 away wrath but I dasn't let her see it." 
 
 "Little Bonnie!" says Nick. "You have given us 
 such a scare ! Are you better, really ?" 
 
 "You bet I am!" I says. "And I just got to know 
 what has been going on. I know Strickland didn't die. 
 Even mommer told me that much. But what has he 
 done? And Anita where was she? Were the news- 
 papers dreadful? Did they say terrible things about 
 me? Oh, Nicky, tell me the whole truth it will be 
 so much easier for me if I know, than it is to lie here 
 imagining things !" 
 
 "Poor kid!" says Nicky. "Of course I will. Well 
 then, the papers aired the affair, of course, but they 
 were all for you, Bonnie, and the way you responded 
 to Anita's call for help. She did it, of course, no mat- 
 ter what Strickland says about the whole thing being 
 an accident." 
 
 "An accident!" says I. "Of course that was it! I 
 should have guessed. Go on, Nicky !" 
 
 "Well, when the good-for-nothing scamp came to 
 in the hospital he spilled the beans at first. He was
 
 Laughter Limited 321 
 
 mad at Anita, mad enough to have her arrested. But 
 he reneged, later. It appears that Anita was jealous 
 of him, and that she was in debt up to her neck. Strick- 
 land had promised her five hundred dollars to keep her 
 from being put out of her place, and then as usual, he 
 hadn't made good. He'd stalled her off for several 
 days. The afternoon of the shooting Anita came to see 
 him, desperate for her money. Kit Knute had thrown 
 her over when she took up with Greg, and she was out 
 of work. I suppose Strickland couldn't come across 
 and they had a row. He now says Anita took his gun 
 out of the top drawer of his bureau and threatened to 
 kill herself, and that he seized it. They struggled and 
 the gun went off. At least that's his present version. 
 He has told several, each more dramatic than the last. 
 But he won't press any charge, and she has left town." 
 
 "How dreadful!" I says. "Where was Anita that 
 afternoon when I when " 
 
 "They found her back in her room, full of hop," says 
 Nicky. "She had the gun with her and she was too 
 dazed to even attempt getting way. Her creditors auc- 
 tioned her furnishings yesterday. It's a nasty mess, lit- 
 tle Bonnie, but it is behind you, remember that. You 
 have got to put it out of your mind." 
 
 "Somehow I don't see able to," I says. "Oh, Nicky, 
 what's the matter with Hollywood ? Why do we get 
 in such messes?" 
 
 "We don't, generally," says he promptly and firmly. 
 "The rotters do. And there are a few rotters in every 
 profession, Bonnie. Our community, through its very 
 nature, is more conspicuous, that is all."
 
 322 Laughter Limited 
 
 "I don't know that you are right, Nicky!" I says 
 earnestly. "I want to get away from this town for a 
 while, and think things over. I've had a big jolt, and 
 I got to get myself straightened out. I want to go some 
 place where I am away even from you and mommer 
 and so forth, and where there is nothing to remind me 
 of the studio." 
 
 "You must do it, then," says Nicky, understanding 
 at once. "We will wait for you, on The Scarlet Let- 
 ter. You are not to come back to work until you are 
 well." 
 
 "Oh !" says I. "The picture ! We was right in the 
 middle of it, wasn't we? But I can't come back just 
 yet. I got to have a breathing spell." 
 
 "I tell you what," says Nicky. "You go out to my 
 ranch for a week. At least I call it that. In reality 
 it's just a shack down near Santa Ana, but over on the 
 ocean side. It's miles from anywhere, and is the place 
 I run to when I need perspective. There is a nice old 
 couple who live there and look after it for me, and I'll 
 write them to-night. It's just the place you need." 
 
 I looked at his kind eager face and the tousled lion 
 curls, and my eyes filled with tears like a regular senti- 
 mental dumb-bell. To think I had such a grand friend ! 
 
 "Nicky, you are a peach and I will accept!" I says 
 gratefully. "It will be like escaping into heaven." 
 
 And it was. There is some people thinks California 
 is Hollywood, and some that thinks it is San Francisco 
 or Los Angeles, and yet again a few who admit there 
 are groves, and so forth. But the part of California 
 which best expresses the spirit of it all is not the pros-
 
 Laughter Limited 323 
 
 perous cities or orange trees or walnuts and grapes or 
 good roads, though there are enormous crops of all 
 these, but the naked rolling hills of California which 
 swell and fall in great smooth sweeps along the coast 
 between the valleys and the sea. 
 
 These hills is peculiar, I do believe, and like no 
 others in the world. They are profoundly quiet and 
 though bare, are full of promise. They are open and 
 plain to see for miles whichever way you look, and in 
 the canons between them there is great oaks growing 
 clean and strong, small forests of ancient giants as you 
 might say, evergreen and tremendous, once you are 
 down among them, but seen from the bare crest of the 
 nearest hill they seem a mere patch of darkness or like 
 the shadow from a cloud. And along the outer edge 
 of these hills and canons sweeps hundreds of miles of 
 golden beach with them lace- fringed jade-green break- 
 ers breaking on them, like I have told you before, and 
 in the lonely places, wild sea birds by the thousands, 
 crying. 
 
 But it ain't lonesome, none of it. Because a person 
 knows them treeless hills are so rich that you could 
 grow roses on them anywheres. All through the dry 
 season they are brown, and then like a miracle a week 
 of rain will have them green as the far-famed ones of 
 Ireland only with the addition of golden poppies. And 
 another reason why these vast hills is not a lonesome 
 place. They are well-proportioned. You don't feel lost 
 in a big room if it is shaped right. And the same is 
 true of these hills I am telling you about, and there is 
 no use in you laughing and passing some remark to
 
 324 Laughter Limited 
 
 the effect that Nature can't go wrong and so forth, be- 
 cause that is a big mistake and Nature has pulled a lot 
 of boners the same as any natural person does, but the 
 California coast is a big success, and its beauty both 
 rests and inspires a person, no matter how many times 
 they see it. 
 
 Well anyways, this ranch which Nicky loaned me 
 was set on one of these hills like as per see above, and 
 it was the very place I needed. I had trouble getting 
 away from mommer but finally I did, and for a week I 
 rode the lonesome trails around the neighborhood of 
 this ranch on Nicky's little old friendly pinto pony, or 
 sat on the porch and watched the Pacific swallow the 
 setting sun, and I thought and thought and each day 
 things got clearer to me about what I had ought to do 
 with the rest of my life. And the conclusion I come to 
 was that I would have to leave the pictures. 
 
 It was a terrible decision, and just what I would go 
 to work at after I got out, I hadn't decided. I couldn't 
 see beyond the, as you might say, fatal step. But to 
 continue working in the same business, on the same 
 lot with Milton Sherrill now that I was automatically 
 put out of reach of ever being his wife, was impossible. 
 
 Nobody had come near me during the time on the 
 ranch, and I had not even had a letter from mommer. 
 I had expressly wanted to be cut off entirely from the 
 world, and things had worked out fine, for I now had 
 my decision clear. I would go and see Milt and tell 
 him that while I would of course finish the interrupted 
 picture, it would have to be my last one, and I would 
 beg him to let me out of the rest of my contract.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 '~p v HE moving-picture world is the only one where a 
 A lady can safely reminisce without its being a 
 confession of age. To recall the days when Lillian 
 Gish was knee-high to a vaudeville act is no sign a per- 
 son is in any dotage, and even the ones who admit to 
 remembering when Charlie Chaplin was only getting 
 five hundred a week don't necessarily have to be gray 
 around the temples. 
 
 And seeing that to be the true fact, why naturally I 
 personally myself do not hesitate to publicly look back 
 to the day of my interview with Milton and all that it 
 has since come to mean to pictures. Of course I got 
 as much modesty as any other successful woman, but I 
 can't help but realize that only for things working the 
 way they done, why pictures would not be what they are 
 to-day. 
 
 Well anyways, I set out from Nicky's ranch alone 
 in my car, my mind all made up to go right to the 
 Silvermount lot and get things over and done with. 
 For if a person has decided to have a tooth out, or take 
 up a note, or any other painful operation, why it is a 
 good plan to have it no sooner said than done, as the 
 poet says, and so I didn't even go home to my Spanish 
 Fandango first, but merely telephoned mommer that I 
 was headed for the studio, made sure Milt was going to 
 be in his office and got on my way. 
 
 325
 
 326 Laughter Limited 
 
 Well, I'll tell the world I was as depressed as a cold 
 waffle when I left the ranch. Sweet daddy! I'll say 
 so ! Because here I was about to zinc my life ambition 
 and so forth, and the nearer I got to Hollywood the 
 less I liked my duty, and the temptation to shrink it 
 stole over me like a frost. As I went by the Muro lot, 
 which was the first big studio that I had to pass on my 
 way in town, my heart give a silent groan as you might 
 say, like a mother responding to her babe, and then it 
 give a leap of curiosity, because the Muro was plainly 
 closed. 
 
 Well, well, I thought, ain't it remarkable how things 
 changes in the pictures and when you come back after 
 being away for a week, why, you never can tell who 
 has failed or succeeded, and Gawd knows maybe I will 
 find that A'xel is now a star, and I says this to myself 
 because it was the most unlikely thing that I could 
 imagine. 
 
 The town of Hollywood itself was in one of its gay 
 moods too. It seemed to me I had never been there 
 when it was so crowded with snappy people and bright 
 clothes, and even the gardens looked like they had burst 
 out into extra blooms just to get my goat. It all looked 
 good in the way anything you are about to give up for- 
 ever, does, and any woman who has given away a dress 
 or a hat, if nothing more serious, will at once under- 
 stand my feelings. 
 
 The usual herd of cars was crowded about the Sil- 
 vermount curbs, and there sure was nothing shut-up- 
 looking about our that is, their, lot ! Actually it made 
 me a little sore to see things going on much the same
 
 Laughter Limited 327 
 
 and in fact a little more so while I was away and was, 
 further, about to get out for good. Busy ? Right then 
 the Silvermount looked like the busiest place in Amer- 
 ica. A big crowd of extras was going off on a desert 
 location, and Axel in a Arab costume waved to me 
 from the middle of the bunch as I parked my car and 
 headed for the office. Nicky grabbed me by both hands 
 at the main entrance, and then dusted away in a big 
 hurry. 
 
 Once inside, and past the welcome of the office force, 
 I could see Trixie Trueman, with McGee directing, 
 working over on Number Four. They were making a 
 drawing-room sequence, and somehow the sight made 
 me wild. Everywhere, all around me, the crowd was 
 busy, hard at work, interested, and suddenly the full 
 realization come over me that all this had been going 
 on while I was away and would continue to go on after 
 I had left. And at the thought something inside my 
 mind got up on its hind legs and hollered, and it was 
 all I could do to keep the tears of self-pity out of my 
 eyes. 
 
 "Now, B. McFadden," I says to myself, "y u keep 
 steady! Your mind is made up a real decision that 
 was two weeks in growing. So don't you go letting 
 any momentary jazz upset the whole business!" 
 
 And then, feeling considerably stronger, I went along 
 to Milton's office and says to the outside girl can I see 
 him and she says yes, in a moment, he is busy. And 
 actually I had to set and wait, and this didn't make me 
 a whole lot happier, either. Sweet daddy! I could 
 actually feel my strength of mind running out the
 
 328 Laughter Limited 
 
 end of my fingers and toes! It made me wild to sit 
 there like a dumb-bell applying for her first job or 
 something, and I wanted to show them I was some- 
 body. Then I again remembered I was getting out, and 
 that a year from now nobody would even remember 
 who I was, or anything ! 
 
 Well, in the middle of these happy thoughts Slim 
 Rolf come out of the teakwood temple and says hello 
 Bonnie glad you are back and so forth, and then I ac- 
 tually got permission to go in to see Milt. And when I 
 got in he was alone but talking on the telephone, and 
 so merely give me a gesture to sit down, which I did, 
 mad clean through. And then I waited and waited 
 while Milt listened and says Yeh, yeh, no Al, yeh, for 
 what seemed about a year. Then at last he hung up. 
 
 "Well, B. !" he says. "I say, this is fine ! You look 
 wonderfully, and it does my eyes good to see you back 
 again. Are you absolutely all right ?" 
 
 "Yes, Milt," I says firmly. "I am righter than I've 
 been in a long time. So right that I " 
 
 "Great, great !" he interrupted me, slapping the arms 
 of his chair and springing up. "Able to come back to 
 work to-morrow?" 
 
 "Yes, Milt," I says. "I can come back and get this 
 picture finished right away, but then " 
 
 "Then we are going to put you over really big !" says 
 Milt. "Look nere, B., do you remember that picture 
 you made with Nickolls Alias Cinderella ?" 
 
 Did I remember it ? Sweet daddy ! 
 
 "Say listen, Milt, are you cuckoo?" I says. "I guess
 
 Laughter Limited 329 
 
 my memory is that long, all right. I'm hardly likely to 
 forget that one time I was a star." 
 
 "Well," says he, deadly serious, "it is a great picture ! 
 I saw it last week up at Fresno, and I have bought it 
 in cheap. We are going to call it The Stepchild and 
 release it as a new issue with you as the star. We will 
 spend a lot of money on it, and it will be the picture 
 of the year. Why, it's a great picture, I tell you, B., 
 and you certainly have a wonderful future !" 
 
 Whatter you know about that! I felt kind of limp 
 and weak, and floored. Nicky's picture ! How things 
 did work around in circles for sure. Poor Nicky, after 
 all his labor, the result would appear as a Silvermount 
 release. It wasn't fair ! And yet it couldn't be helped, 
 for apparently that was the way the picture business 
 was always done. I felt sick over it, and I tried to tell 
 Milt so. But as he sat there, his handsome face all 
 alight with excitement and interest, why what I had 
 come to say wouldn't quite reach my lips. 
 
 "I had no idea you could act as you did in that pic- 
 ture!" Milt was saying. "Why, child, you are amaz- 
 ing!" Then he pulled a line which at first I couldn't 
 realize that he had said it, and thought well, I guess I 
 didn't hear right. "And it's not only because I love you 
 that I think you are a great actress," says he. 
 
 I could only stare at him without a word. He got 
 up and come over and sat beside me on the window- 
 seat, which is where I was. 
 
 "B. McFadden, don't tell me that you are surprised," 
 says he. "You must have known it all along. Why, I
 
 330 Laughter Limited 
 
 have loved you since that very first day on the train. 
 When will you marry me, dear?" 
 
 Well, I got considerable respect for my public, and 
 of course will admit they got a right to know all about 
 me up to a certain point, beyond which they can go no 
 whicher. Also I realize that a public person and great 
 artist has no private life and so forth, but there is a 
 limit to even that, just the same, and refinement com- 
 pels me to draw the line some place, and that place is 
 the rest of what I and Milt said and did after the above 
 sequence, and I am not going to give you the conven- 
 tional full close-up. Anyways, the censors have taken 
 to timing them close-up kisses and would surely of cut 
 ours down. Well anyways, after a time-lapse sub-title 
 of Later, Milton and I commenced to get sensible, and 
 then I told him what I had come in to say in the first 
 place. 
 
 "Dear !" I says, "I will marry you any time you say. 
 But oh, Milt, I want to get out of the pictures. Now 
 more than ever." 
 
 "Why?" says he. "What is on your mind about 
 them, honey?" 
 
 "Well," says I, "I don't quite know. But they are a 
 rotten game, Milt. Not healthy, somehow. A great 
 art, yes, I will admit that, but working in them does 
 something awful to people. Can't you see it, yourself? 
 It's like a poison and it demoralizes them pretty nearly 
 all." 
 
 "I know what you mean," he says frowning over it. 
 "Yet that should not be necessary. You mean the lax 
 living and thinking which one falls into so easily out
 
 Laughter Limited 331 
 
 here. Sometimes I believe that this semi-tropical cli- 
 mate is as much to blame as the pictures are." 
 
 "Well, the combination of the two is hard on ordin- 
 ary mortals with only average morals," I says. "I 
 don't know do I want to waste my energy fighting the 
 something that is in the air here, darling. I was 
 brought up in New England, Milt, and so was you, 
 hon, and there is something in this outfit as a whole 
 that goes against us, and what we was taught to believe 
 was decent and right." 
 
 "I know !" he says thoughtfully. 
 
 "Before I come here to-day," I says, "I had made up 
 my mind I was through. For more than one reason. 
 And now I want to be just your wife, hon, and to make 
 you a good home, and lay off of acting. And I don't 
 want to do it in Hollywood, either, but in our own 
 kind of atmosphere where we belong." 
 
 "Dearest!" says Milt. 
 
 Later. That's another time lapse, see ? 
 
 "You are dead right," says he. "We don't belong 
 in this game, and we will get out. Why, don't you re- 
 member how opposed to the pictures I was when you 
 first met me ? I told you I hoped never to touch them. 
 Well, I was right, you see!" 
 
 And although this sounded a little prematurely mar- 
 ried as you might say, why I let it go and smiled at him 
 in agreement. 
 
 "Why, hon, being married to you will use up all the 
 talent I've got!" I says, laughing. "And if I can act 
 the part of a good wife, why I will be perfectly satis- 
 fied. I'm just sick of these parts where I have to vamp,
 
 332 Laughter Limited 
 
 and of going for my recreation to parties where they 
 mix the cocktails in a washing machine !" 
 
 "And I am tired of being out of my element too!" 
 Milt declared. "Where shall we live, B. ? Name the 
 place and you shall have it!" 
 
 "Oh, Milt!" I says, slipping my arms around his 
 neck. "How about Stonybrook? Your dear mother's 
 house would be the ideal home for the both of us, dear, 
 and living in it would help us cling to our ideals !" 
 
 "Bonnie! Would you, really?" says Milt. "You 
 blessed child, nothing would make me happier than to 
 call the old place home once more !" 
 
 Well, that was all settled and the anxious reader can 
 write in another time lapse and then consider that I 
 have broke away again because of something very im- 
 portant occurring to me. 
 
 "Milt!" I says. "What do you know? I had for 
 the minute forgotten all about mommer !" 
 
 "I should hope you would!" says he laughing. 
 "Such things are allowable at these times, surely ! And 
 after all, she is not your real mother, you know." 
 
 "But I love her, Milt!" I says earnestly. "Perhaps 
 I love her even more than I would if she was the genu- 
 ine article. You see I could never afford to fight with 
 her like I might of done if we had been relatives. So 
 we have shown each other only our best sides and are 
 more than mother and daughter, because we are friends. 
 And I can't go back on her now. I can't desert her, 
 Milt, when I marry you." 
 
 "Well," says Milt, "Mrs. Delane is a fine woman, 
 B., and I will never forget what she has done for you,
 
 Laughter Limited 333 
 
 dear. If you wish her to make her home with you I 
 won't oppose it." 
 
 "Oh, Milt, you are too wonderful !" I says. "I just 
 couldn't endure to think of Adele spending a lonely old 
 age, and of course she has got no one but me. What a 
 lovely time we will have out of the pictures, in our old 
 New England home, with mommer and everyone." 
 
 "Except pop!" says Milt. "I draw the line at pop!" 
 
 "And so do I !" I says. "Pop has simply got to learn 
 to work for his own living, and you must back me up 
 and refuse to help him !" 
 
 "I will," says Milt firmly. 
 
 Well, everything was beautifully settled by then and 
 I felt as if I was in a trance or a happy dream or some- 
 thing, and it was sure a great relief to know that soon 
 we would be leaving all this behind us and so forth. 
 And then all at once like approaching thunder there 
 was footsteps pounding down the hall as if a elephant 
 had broke loose from our animal department, and the 
 teakwood flew open and in rushed Big Benny with 
 neither coat or, for once, any cigar in his face, and 
 what little hair he had was sticking up wildly with ex- 
 citement. The Big Egg was all red in the face, and 
 for the first few moments he couldn't speak a word, 
 but only blow and wave his hands in a few wild native 
 gestures. 
 
 "What do you think?" he gasped at last. "We can 
 buy out Muro cheap ! Only seventeen million dollars ! 
 Oy ! Such good news !" 
 
 "What?" exclaimed Milt, all excited too. "Only 
 seventeen millions ? Why, that's throwing it away !"
 
 334 Laughter Limited 
 
 "Sure it is ! What you think I got such excitement 
 over it for, else?" says Benny wiping his streaming 
 face. "Say listen, for three years I been trying for a 
 merger with them people, and now is our chance. 
 Why, it's the opportunity of a lifetime! When 
 we got this combination, believe me, we will rule the 
 industry!" 
 
 "That's so, Ben!" says Milt. "Why man, it's the 
 biggest thing in years. With their lot and ours com- 
 bined we could make some superproductions that would 
 knock the eye out of these German pictures. And the 
 
 clear field it would give us Say, listen, does Muro 
 
 himself want to stay in ?" 
 
 "Sure he does!" says Benny. "He's in my office 
 now, waiting." 
 
 "If he wants to come to us," says Milt intently, "that 
 means it's the real thing. If he was merely offering to 
 sell out I wouldn't trust the crook. He'd probably in- 
 tend floating something new !" 
 
 "And with the Muro releases as well as our own," 
 says I breathlessly, "look at the field a star would have ! 
 Twice the ordinary publicity!" 
 
 "You sure would have it, honey!" says Milt. "By 
 heaven, I didn't have any idea you would really be 
 able to pull the trick, Ben! I congratulate you!" 
 
 "Congratulate also yourself!" says Benny as the two 
 of them shook hands like a coupla crazy schoolboys. 
 "As the financial head of the concern, Milton, believe 
 me you got the greatest future in the industry, and I 
 must say you are a wonderful manager !" 
 
 "Ben, you are a marvel !" says Milt, and they regu-
 
 Laughter Limited 335 
 
 larly danced around at that while I stood with my 
 hands clasped tight on my chest, watching them and 
 thinking my Gawd but Mary Pick ford has never had 
 half the advertising which I will get from this merger 
 and won't I just work like a hound so as to deserve 
 every little bit of it too ! And then pretty soon them 
 two clowns come down to earth and Milt turned back 
 to the Big Egg real serious. 
 
 "Benny!" he says. "There is something even more 
 magnificent than this merger which I am to be con- 
 gratulated on. Bonnie is going to marry me, old- 
 timer!" 
 
 "So?" says Benny, beaming. "Well, that is cer- 
 tainly grand news. I do congratulate the two of you, 
 and am glad I was able to bring it such a fine engage- 
 ment present like I done just now, and to know the 
 big merger will be all the stronger for keeping the both 
 of you in it !" 
 
 Well, when Big Ben pulled that line, why all at once 
 I and Milt exchanged a look like a coupla sheep. And 
 it is Gawd's truth that up to the very minute, Stony- 
 brook and the old home and our pure and domestic fu- 
 ture had been wiped right out of our mind. Our spon- 
 taneous joy about Muro had showed up the both of us 
 pretty clear*, too, because it proved what was closest to 
 our hearts. And sweet daddy, didn't we feel like a 
 coupla fools though! But being engaged to be mar- 
 ried had already filled me with the conventional sense 
 of wifely sacrifice, and so I hurried to find a excuse and 
 volunteered to be the goat and save Milton's pride and 
 so forth.
 
 336 Laughter Limited 
 
 "Milt," I says, "haven't you practically promised to 
 sign that contract to stay on here ?" 
 
 "Well yes, I practically had," says he, looking at the 
 toe of his shoe. 
 
 "Well, I don't want to influence you any, hon," I 
 says, "but honest, I don't see how you can go back on 
 them now." 
 
 "I suppose not," says Milt. "But how about Stony- 
 brook ? My promise to you is even more important, B." 
 
 "Oh, that will be all right!" I says hastily. "You 
 see, come to remember it, I got a contract all signed 
 myself, for two more pictures with this concern, and I 
 couldn't hardly break that, now could I ?" 
 
 "Why, see here, hon, I wouldn't dream of asking you 
 to do any such thing !" Milt declared indignantly. 
 
 And as of course I wouldn't attempt to go against his 
 will in anything, why that settled matters and we mu- 
 tually understood that we was to stay. 
 
 While all this was going on Ben stood looking from 
 one to the other of us, rubbing his hands nervously. 
 
 "Say listen!" says he. "You wasn't thinking about 
 quitting, for heaven's sake? What nonsense!" 
 
 "I think perhaps it was nonsense !" Milt admitted to 
 him. "But I will sign that contract, Ben, for, let us 
 say, three years. And we will close with Muro at once. 
 When my contract and B.'s run out, then will be time 
 enough to decide whether we want to go on in the pic- 
 tures or not!" 
 
 "That means you are in them forever!" says the Big 
 Egg enthusiastically.
 
 Laughter Limited 337 
 
 And with them words of wisdom he rushed off to 
 catch Muro's mind while it was still that way. When 
 the door had shut behind him I come over to Milt, and 
 putting my hands on his shoulders I looked him square 
 in the eyes. 
 
 "Dear!" I says. "We won't kid ourselfs. Once in 
 the pictures, always in them. Isn't that so?" 
 
 "I expect you are right, B.," says Milt. "And after 
 all they are the greatest game on earth to-day. I'll be 
 honest about it. I want to stay!" 
 
 "So do I !" I cried. "Oh, Milt, together we will make 
 the greatest pictures the country has ever seen." 
 
 "On a clean lot," says Milt. 
 
 "With no favorites," says I. 
 
 "And no graft !" says Milt. 
 
 "With square finances," I sang. 
 
 "And sane salaries," Milt went on. 
 
 "And a home in Hollywood," says I. 
 
 "With a swimming pool and a projecting room!" 
 yelled Milt. 
 
 "And mommer to live with us !" says I. 
 
 "Yes, I suppose so!" says Milt. 
 
 And at that very minute we realized somebody was 
 knocking on the door, and who would it be, speaking 
 of angels, but mommer herself. 
 
 From the way she entered the room I at once seen 
 something out of the ordinary was up, for not alone 
 did she close the door after herself in a mysterious 
 manner, and then take up a commanding position, but 
 commenced mugging at us in a attempt to register the
 
 338 Laughter Limited 
 
 possession of a big secret. But I was in no mood for 
 any nonsense, so I just flung myself at her and give 
 her a big kiss on each cheek. 
 
 "Oh, mommer darling!" I says. "What do you 
 think? I and Milton are going to be married!" 
 
 "My land!" says mommer. "You don't expect me 
 to be surprised at that, do you? But I'm real glad, 
 hon, honest I am, although now of course you will be 
 through with me. They say it's an ill wind that blows 
 nobody good, but I'll say not when it blows out the 
 last match !" 
 
 "Now, mommer !" I says tenderly. "Don't you pull 
 any pathetic stuff about being a last match, because we 
 are not going to let you go. You are coming to live 
 with us!" 
 
 "No, Bonnie, dearie, I'm going to do no such thing!" 
 says she promptly. "You certainly are a good daugh- 
 ter to me, the best I ever had, in fact. But I always 
 say it's a wise child who knows when to go no further. 
 And I got other plans for myself." 
 
 "Why, mommer!" says I, drawing away from her. 
 And as I got a full-length view of mommer I realized 
 for the first time the big change in her appearance. 
 
 For gone was mommer's long skirts and modest dark 
 colors. She was dolled in oyster-gray satin up pretty 
 near to her knees, and high-heeled slippers and silk 
 stockings to match, and a snappy little hat of yellow 
 flowers perched on the one side of her stylishly dressed 
 hair. How I had come not to notice all this first shot 
 can only be accounted for by me being blind and selfish, 
 like most folks in love.
 
 Laughter Limited 339 
 
 "Why, mommer!" I says, gasping. "How sweet 
 you look, and how snappy!" 
 
 Mommer blushed like a- girl and backed off towards 
 the door. With her hand on the knob she give a dra- 
 matic pause. 
 
 "I got a little surprise for you all," she says, "and I 
 guess I will now bring it in !" And with that she pulls 
 open the teakwood, and in walks pop. 
 
 Well, I had been sort of prepared for it to be him 
 on account I am no dumb-bell, or blind either. But I 
 was far from expecting the pop which showed. As he 
 come into the room I could scarcely believe my eyes, 
 for if Adele was dressed up like a peahen, believe me 
 pop was like a peacock, and then some. From the 
 crown of his green plush hat, which was set jauntily 
 on the one side of his varnished hair, to the soles of 
 his natty shoes with the pearl-gray spats, pop was some 
 plush horse ! He had a gardenia in his buttonhole and 
 a two-carat stone in his tie, and the smile on his face 
 was as smug as the Sphinx itself! 
 
 "Well, well, Bonnie dearie!" says he, swinging in 
 and parking a huge silver-mounted cane on Milt's desk 
 along with his new yellow gloves and his lid. "Well, 
 well, all! I expect maybe you are surprised at your 
 old pop now, hey, daughter dear ? And you, Mr. Sher- 
 rill ! Sure it's a real treat to meet you on equal terms 
 at last!" 
 
 "Pop!" says I. "For heaven's sake, explain. And 
 as for equal terms with Milt, you need not think you 
 can sass him just because I am going to marry him!" 
 
 "Marry him, are ye?" says pop genially. "Is that
 
 340 Laughter Limited 
 
 so ? Well, well, now I couldn't have chosen better for 
 ye myself!" 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. McFadden !" says Milt. "Sit down 
 everybody, do !" 
 
 "Pop, don't be a fool!" says I. "Those clothes 
 that pin ! If you took them from Adele, I'll well, I'll 
 murder you, that's all !" 
 
 "From Adele?" says pop with dignity. "Daughter, 
 I am surprised at your injustice to your parent. Sure 
 I bought them things with my own money !" 
 
 "My Gawd !" I says feebly. 
 
 "It's the truth !" chimed in Adele. "He did, honey. 
 They have found oil on his ranch !" 
 
 "Pop!" says I feebly. "To think of that you to 
 strike oil and get rich after all your laziness ! It's too 
 much!" 
 
 "Daughter," says pop slowly and with great dignity, 
 "I don't know why you are doubtful of me the way 
 you are ! It has been hard work getting this fortune of 
 mine, and all your life I've told ye I'd do it some day !" 
 
 "Oh, the poor man!" Adele broke in. "What he 
 says is true, dear. He actually did go to work on that 
 real-estate proposition and cleared the land with his 
 own hands. Then he started drilling an artesian well, 
 to get a water supply for the lots, and struck oil." 
 
 "It's a gusher," says pop with extreme dignity. 
 "Bringing me around eight hundred dollars a day for 
 the past week. And we got two more wells started." 
 
 Suddenly he leaned over me, the realest look in his 
 eyes I had ever seen there. 
 
 "Bonnie," says he, "you told your old father the
 
 Laughter Limited 341 
 
 truth. And the very first time in my life I ever went 
 to work made me a rich man.". 
 
 "And got him a wife !" says Adele. "Oh, hon, we 
 was married this afternoon, and I'm really your mom- 
 mer now. I do hope it won't make any difference be- 
 tween us, dearie ?" 
 
 "Adele !" says I. "Not much ! With you really in 
 the family, and Milton for my very own I am as 
 happy as as a dumb-bell!" 
 
 "Well," says mommer with a sentimental sigh, "they 
 say there's nothing half so sweet in life as love's young 
 dream ; and I'll say they're right !" 
 
 THE END
 
 Him mi 
 
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