The Moving Picture Girls in War Plays
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Laura Lee Hope >> The Moving Picture Girls in War Plays
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"Well, for the love of trading stamps! what's it all about?" she asked.
"Are you posing for Faith, Hope and Charity?"
"Certainly not Charity," murmured Ruth.
"And I certainly have lost what little faith I had, though I hope I do
get my ring back," sneered Miss Dixon.
"Your ring? What's the matter?" asked Alice. "Have you lost something?"
"My diamond ring was taken off my dresser," said the actress.
"And that Estelle Brown was up here ahead of us, and all alone," said
Miss Pennington. "She may have borrowed it and forgotten to return it."
"That's what one gets for leaving one's valuable diamond rings around
where these extra players are allowed to have free access," sneered Miss
Dixon.
"You mean that little chip diamond ring of yours with the red garnets
around it?" asked Alice.
"It isn't a chip diamond at all!" fired back Miss Dixon. "It was a
valuable ring."
"Comparatively, perhaps, yes," and Alice's voice was coolly sneering,
though she rarely allowed herself this privilege. "I'm sorry it is
lost----"
"Why don't you say taken?" asked Miss Pennington.
"Because I don't believe it was," snapped Alice. "Either you forgot
where you laid it or it has dropped behind something. As for thinking
Estelle Brown even borrowed it, that's all nonsense! I don't believe a
word of it."
"Nor I!" exclaimed Ruth.
"Did you speak to her about it?" asked Alice, and then as the sound of
sobbing came from Estelle's room she burst out with:
"You horrid things! I believe you did! Shame on you!" and she hurried to
the closed door.
"It is I--Alice," she whispered. "Let me in. It's all a terrible
mistake. Don't let it affect you so, Estelle dear!"
Then Alice opened the unlocked door and went in. Ruth paused for a
moment to say:
"I think you have made a terrible mistake, Miss Dixon," and then she
followed her sister to comfort the crying girl.
"Humph! Mistake!" sneered Miss Dixon.
"That's what we get for mixing in with amateurs," added her chum. "Come
on, we'll speak to Mr. Pertell about it."
But, for some reason or other, the director was not told directly of the
loss of the ring, nor was Estelle openly accused. She felt as badly,
though, as if she had been, even when Ruth and Alice tried to comfort
her.
Estelle had left the table early, but though she had passed Miss Dixon's
room, she said she had seen no one about.
"Don't mind about the old ring!" said Alice. "It wasn't worth five
dollars."
"But that I should be accused of taking even five dollars!"
"You're not!" said Ruth, quickly. "They don't dare make an open
accusation. I wouldn't be surprised if Miss Dixon found she had lost her
ring and she's ashamed to acknowledge it."
"Oh, but it is dreadful to be suspected!" sighed Estelle.
"You're not--no one in his senses would think of even dreaming you took
so much as a pin!" cried Alice. "It's positively silly! I wouldn't make
such a fuss over such a cheap ring."
But Miss Dixon did make a "fuss," inasmuch as she talked often about her
loss, though she still made no direct accusation against Estelle. But
Miss Dixon and her chum made life miserable for the daring horsewoman.
They often spoke in her presence of extra players who did not know their
places, and made sneering references to locking up their valuables.
At times Estelle was so miserable that she threatened to leave, but Ruth
and Alice would not hear of it and offered to lay the whole matter
before Mr. Pertell and have him settle it by demanding that the loser of
the ring either make a direct accusation or else keep quiet about her
loss.
Mr. DeVere, who was appealed to by his daughters, voted against this,
however.
"It is best not to pay any attention to those young ladies," he advised.
"The friends of Estelle know she would not do such a thing, and no one
takes either Miss Dixon or Miss Pennington very seriously--not half as
seriously as they take themselves. It will all blow over."
There were big times ahead for the moving picture girls and their
friends. Some of the most important battle scenes were soon to be
filmed, those that had already been taken having been skirmishes.
"I have succeeded in getting two regiments of the state militia to take
part in a sham battle for our big play," said Mr. Pertell one day. "They
are to come to this part of the country for their annual manoeuvers
under the supervision of the regular army officers, and by paying their
expenses I can have them here for a couple of days.
"They will come with their horses, tents, and everything, so we shall
have some real war scenes--that is, as real as can be had with blank
cartridges. It will be a great thing for my film."
"And will they work in with our players?" asked Mr. DeVere.
"Oh, yes, indeed! I intend to use your daughters in the spy and hospital
scenes, and you as one of the generals. In fact, Mr. DeVere, I depend
on you to coach the militia men. For though they know a lot about
military matters, they do not know how best to pose for the camera. So
I'll be glad if you will act as a sort of stage manager."
"I shall be pleased to," answered the old player. And he was greatly
delighted at the opportunity.
About a week after Mr. Pertell had mentioned that two regiments of
militia were coming to Oak Farm, Ruth and Alice awakened one morning to
see the fields about them dotted with tents and soldiers moving about
here and there.
"Why, it does look just like a real war camp!" exclaimed Alice, who, in
a very becoming dressing gown, was at the window. "Oh, isn't it
thrilling! How dare you?" she exclaimed, drawing hastily back.
"What was it?" asked Ruth from her room.
"One of the officers had the audacity to wave his hand at me."
"You shouldn't have looked out."
"Ha! A pity I can't look out of my own window," and to prove that she
was well within her rights Alice looked out again, and pretended not to
see a young man who was standing in the yard below.
There was a bustle of excitement at the breakfast table. All the players
were eager to know what parts they would have, for this was the biggest
thing any of them had yet been in--with two regiments taking the field
one against the other, with many more cannon and guns than Mr. Pertell
had hitherto used.
"I'll be able to throw on the screen a real battle scene," he said.
"The only trouble," declared Pop Snooks, "is that their uniforms aren't
like those of the days of sixty-three." Pop was a stickler for dramatic
correctness.
"It won't matter," said Mr. Pertell. "The views of the battle will be
distant ones, and no one will be able to see the kind of uniforms the
men wear. Those who are close to the camera will wear the proper Civil
War uniforms we have on hand. The officers of the Guard have agreed to
that."
Considerable preparation was necessary before the big film of the battle
could be taken, and to this end it was necessary to have several
conferences among the officers and Mr. Pertell and his camera men and
assistants, including Mr. DeVere. A number of the Guard officers were
constantly about the farmhouse, arranging the plans.
One afternoon Alice was sitting on the porch with Estelle, waiting
until it was time for them to take their parts in a side scene of the
production. A nattily attired young officer came up the walk, doffing
his cap.
"I beg your pardon," he said. "I am Lieutenant Varley, and I was sent
here to ask for Mr. Pertell. Perhaps you can tell me where I can find
him?"
Alice looked and blushed. He was the one who had audaciously waved to
her beneath her window, but now he showed no sign of recognition. As his
gaze rested on the face of Estelle Brown, however, he started.
"Excuse me!" he began, "but did you reach your destination safely?"
"My destination!" exclaimed Estelle. "What do you mean? I don't know
you!"
"Perhaps not by name. But are you not the young lady whom I met some
years ago in Portland, Oregon, inquiring how to get to New York?"
"You are mistaken," said Estelle, and her voice was frigid in tone. "I
have never been in Portland in my life," and she turned aside.
CHAPTER XI
WONDERINGS
For a moment Lieutenant Varley seemed to hesitate, and Alice felt sorry
for him. He was distinctly not of the type that would try to make an
acquaintance in this way just because Estelle was a pretty girl. He
seemed embarrassed and ill at ease. But he was not the sort of young man
to give up, once he thought he was right, as he obviously did in this
case. To do so, Alice felt sure he reasoned, would have been to
acknowledge that he was just the sort he seemingly was not.
"I really beg your pardon," he went on, in a firm but respectful tone.
"I am sure I have met you before. I do not wonder that you do not
remember me, but I cannot forget you. Yours isn't a face one easily
forgets," and he smiled genially, and in a manner to disarm criticism.
"But I never was in Portland," insisted Estelle, and it was plain that
she was puzzled by his persistence but not offended by it. "And I don't
remember ever having seen you before."
"Perhaps if I recall some of the circumstances to you it may bring back
the memory," suggested the lieutenant. "Believe me, I do not do it out
of mere idle curiosity, but you seemed in such distress at the time, and
so uncertain of where you wanted to go, that I really wished after I had
directed you that I had placed you in charge of the conductor of your
train."
"But I never was in Portland," said Estelle again, "and though I have
been in New York, I went there from Boston. Surely you have confused me
with some one else."
The young officer shook his head.
"I couldn't do that," he said with a smile that showed his white, even
teeth. "It was just about this time three--no, four years ago. I was in
Portland on business, and as I entered the railroad station you were
standing there----"
Estelle shook her head, smiling.
"Well, for the sake of argument," admitted the lieutenant, "say it was
some one who looked like you."
"All right," agreed Miss Brown, and she and Alice drew near the porch
railing, on the other side of which stood the officer with doffed hat.
"A young lady was standing there, and she seemed quite bewildered," went
on Lieutenant Varley. "I saw that she was in some confusion, and asked
if I could be of any service to her. She said she wanted to get to New
York, but did not know which train to take. I asked her if she had her
ticket, and she replied in the negative. I asked her if she wanted to
buy one, and she said she did, showing a purse well filled with
bills----"
"Then surely it could not have been I!" exclaimed Estelle with a merry
laugh. "I never had a purse well-filled with bills. We moving picture
players--at least in my class--don't go about like millionaires.
Gracious! I only wish I did have a well-filled purse, don't you, Alice?"
"Surely. But what else happened? I'm interested in the story."
"And I was interested in the young lady," went on the officer. "I bought
her ticket for her with the money she handed me, and put her on the
train. She was quite young--about as old as you"--and he smiled at
Estelle, "and I asked her if some one was going to meet her. She said
she thought so, but was not sure, at any rate she felt that she could
look after herself. I left her, and meant to speak to the conductor
about her, but did not have time.
"I have often wondered since whether she arrived safely, and when I saw
you sitting here I felt that I could ascertain. For I certainly took you
for that young lady."
"I am sorry to spoil your romance," said Estelle, "but I am not the one.
I never was farther West than Chicago, and then only for a little while,
filling a short engagement in the movies."
"Well, I won't insist on your identity," said the lieutenant, "but I'm
sure I'm not mistaken. However, I won't trouble you further----"
"Oh, it has been no trouble," interrupted Estelle. "I'm sure I hope you
will find that young lady some day."
"I hope so, too," and the lieutenant bowed. But, judging from his face,
Alice thought, it was plain that he was sure he had already found the
young lady in question.
At that moment Mr. Pertell came out on the porch and saw the lieutenant.
"Ah, I'm glad you are here," observed the manager. "I want to ask you a
great many things. This staging of sham battles is not as easy as I
thought it would be."
"We can have the sham battles all right," answered the officer, with a
smile. "But I can imagine it is not easy to get good moving pictures of
them. We have to operate over a large area, and we can't always tell
what the next move will be. Though, of course, for the purpose of making
views we can ignore military regulations and strain a point or two."
"That's just what I want to talk about," remarked Mr. Pertell. "In the
attack, for instance, the way the plans have been made the sun is wrong
for getting good views. Can't we switch the two armies around?"
"Well, I suppose we can. I'll speak to the colonel about it," and then
the two went inside, where Mr. Pertell had his office in the parlor of
the farmhouse.
"What do you think of him, Estelle?" asked Alice.
"Why, I think he's very nice, but he's altogether wrong about me."
"And yet he seemed so positive."
"Yes, that is what makes it strange. But I never saw him before--that
is, as far as I know; and I'm certain I was never in Portland. He must
be mistaken, but it was nice of him to admit it. I thought at first he
was using the old method to get acquainted."
"So did I. But he isn't that kind."
"He doesn't seem to be."
Russ Dalwood came around the corner of the porch with Paul Ardite and
Hal Watson, a young man lately engaged to play juvenile roles. Hal had
become very friendly with the little group that circled around Ruth and
Alice.
"You girls have an hour yet before you go on," Russ informed them. "We
haven't anything to do until then, either. Want to take a run in to
town? I've got to call at the express office for some extra film, and
the auto is ready. Where's Ruth?"
"Up in her room. I'll go for her," offered Alice. "Shall we have time?"
"Plenty. You can even buy yourself some candy--or let us do it for you,"
laughed Paul.
"We'll let you do it!" said Estelle, as Alice hastened to summon her
sister.
"Ruth! Ruth! where are you?" called Alice, as she ran upstairs--Alice
seldom walked.
"Here, just reading over my new part. What's the matter?"
"We're going for an auto ride with the boys. Come along. You can study
in the car."
"Yes, a lot of studying I could do under those circumstances. But I'll
come--I want a bit of diversion. Who else is going?"
Alice told her, and then spoke about the young lieutenant.
"Wasn't it queer he should be mistaken?" she asked.
Ruth did not reply for a moment.
"Wasn't it?" repeated her sister.
"I was just wondering," said Ruth, slowly. "Was it?"
CHAPTER XII
AN INTERRUPTION
While Alice was putting on her hat Ruth looked at her in some surprise.
"Was it?" she repeated.
"Was what?" asked her sister.
"Was it a mistake?"
"Of course it was, Ruth! Didn't I tell you Estelle said he must have
taken her for some one else, as she had never been in Portland in her
life? Of course, it was a mistake. What makes you think it wasn't?"
"Because, Alice, I am beginning to have doubts regarding Estelle."
"Doubts! You don't mean about the ring?"
"Of course not! But I am beginning to think she is not altogether what
she seems to be."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, nothing serious, of course. And if she has done what I think she
has it isn't any worse than many girls have done, and have gained by it,
rather than lost, though it was risky."
"You mean?"
"I mean that I believe she isn't telling us all she knows. She is hiding
something about her past. And I believe it is that she has run away from
home because her family would not let her go into moving pictures. You
know we sort of suspected that before. Now, in that case, she would have
every reason to deny that she had seen that young lieutenant in
Portland."
"Why should she, providing I grant that you are right?"
"Because he might know her friends and would tell them where she was.
And she doesn't want that known until she has made a reputation. I don't
blame her. If ever I ran away----"
"Ruth! _you_ are not thinking of it, are you?"
"Silly! Of course not. But if I should I wouldn't want to run back home
until I had something to show for my efforts. It may be that way in
Estelle's case. She doesn't want to return like the prodigal son."
"I believe you're entirely wrong," declared Alice. "What I think is that
she perhaps comes of good people. When I say that I don't mean that they
were any better than we are, but that they so regarded themselves, and
would look askance at motion picture players. Well, Estelle doesn't want
to bring any annoyance on her family, and that may be the reason she
doesn't tell much about herself. But as for that young officer's having
seen her, I believe Estelle when she says he is mistaken. Don't you?"
"I don't know what to believe," returned Ruth. "But I'm not going to
worry over it."
"And you won't tell her you don't believe she is what she seems to be?"
"Of course not, you little goose! But I'm going to keep my eyes open.
You know we may be able to give her some good advice. You and I, Alice,
don't meet with near the temptations that assail other girls in this
business, and it's because father is with us all the while. Now Estelle
isn't so fortunate; so I propose that we sort of look after her."
"Oh, I'm very willing to do that."
"And if we see anything that is likely to cause her trouble, we must
shield her from it. That is what I mean by sort of keeping watch over
her. At the same time, I believe that she is not altogether what she
seems. She is hiding something from us--even though we are trying to be
so kind to her. But she doesn't really mean to do it. She is just
afraid, I think."
"And you really believe that lieutenant knows her?"
"He may. At least I think, from what you said, that he is honest in his
belief. But we will watch and wait. We must try to help Estelle in the
hour of trial."
"Of course we will. Now hurry, for they are waiting for us."
"Such a funny thing just happened to me!" cried Estelle to the party of
young folks when they were in the automobile and on the way to the
village. "I was mistaken for some one else."
"What--again?" asked Alice.
"No, the same incident that you witnessed," and she related the episode
of the lieutenant as Alice had detailed it to Ruth.
"That was queer," commented Hal Watson.
"I should say so!" exclaimed Russ.
"Was he at all fresh?" Paul asked, and his air was truculent.
"Not in the least!" Estelle hastened to assure him. "He was honestly
mistaken about it, that was all," and she enlarged on the incident, and
seemed so genuinely amused by it that Alice nudged her sister as much as
to say:
"See how much in error you are."
But Ruth only smiled, and Alice noticed that she regarded Estelle more
closely than ever.
The party made merry in the town, going into the "Emporium," for
ice-cream sodas; and even the presence of Maurice Whitlow at the other
end of the counter, where he was imbibing something through a straw,
could not daunt Alice's high spirits. Whitlow smiled and smirked in the
direction of his acquaintances, but he received no invitation to join
them.
As Estelle was going out in the rear of the party, the extra player slid
up to her and asked:
"Mayn't I have the pleasure of buying you some more cream?"
"You may not!" exclaimed Estelle, not turning her head, and there were
snickers from the other patrons in the place. Maurice turned the shade
of his scarlet tie, and slid out a side door.
"You're getting too popular," chided Alice to her friend. "First it's
the young lieutenant, and now it's your former admirer."
"I can dispense with the admiration of both!"
"Even the lieutenant?" asked Ruth, meaningly.
"Oh, he wasn't so bad," and Estelle either was really indifferent, or
she assumed indifference in a most finished manner that would have done
credit to a more experienced actress than she was.
"What's the matter--are we late?" asked Paul, as, on the way back to Oak
Farm, he saw Russ look at his watch and then speed up the car a bit.
"Yes, a little. Mr. Pertell said he wanted to begin that skirmish scene
at eleven exactly, and it's ten minutes to that now. We can just about
make it. The sun will be in just the right position for making the film.
It's in a thicket you know, and the light isn't any too good. That's the
scene you girls are in," he went on.
"Speed along," urged Paul. "I've got to get into my uniform and make up
a bit."
There is very little "make up" done for moving pictures taken in the
open, and not as much done for studio work as there is on the regular
stage. The camera is sharper than any eye, and make-up shows very
plainly on the screen. Of course, eyes are often darkened and lips
rouged a bit to make them appear to better advantage. Even the men make
up a little but not much. For close-up views, though, where the faces
are more than life size, artistic make-up is very essential. The camera,
in this case, is a magnifying glass, and the most peach-blow complexion
would look coarse unless slightly powdered.
"We'll be all right if we don't get a puncture," said Hal.
No sooner were these words out of his mouth than there came a hiss of
escaping air.
"There she goes!" cried Paul. "Stop, Russ!"
"No, we haven't time. I'm going to keep on. It's better to get in on the
rims and cut a shoe to ribbons than to spoil the film."
They sped along in spite of the flat tire. And it was well they did, for
Mr. Pertell was anxiously waiting for his players when they arrived at
Oak Farm.
"You cut it pretty fine," was his only comment. "Don't do it again. Now
get ready for that skirmish scene."
This was one little incident in the big war play. In it Ruth and Alice
were to be shown driving along a country road. There was to be an alarm,
and a body of Confederate cavalry was to encounter one of the outposts
of the Union army. There was to be a skirmish and a fight, and the Union
men were to be driven off, leaving some dead and wounded. The girls,
though shocked, were to look after the wounded.
All was in readiness. The soldiers, some drawn from the newly-arrived
National Guards, were posted in their respective places. Lieutenant
Varley was to play the part of one of the wounded Unionists.
"All ready--come on with the carriage!" called Mr. Pertell to Ruth and
Alice, who were waiting out of range of the camera. They had rehearsed
the direction they were to take. "Go on!" called the director to Russ.
"Camera!"
The grinding of the film began, and Ruth and Alice acted their parts as
they drove along in the old-fashioned equipage. Suddenly, in front of
them the bushes crackled.
"There they come!" cried Ruth, pulling back the horses as called for in
the play. "The soldiers!"
But instead of a band of men in blue breaking out on the road, there
came a herd of cows, that rushed at the carriage, while the horses
reared up and began to back.
"Stop the camera! Stop that! Cut that out!" frantically cried Mr.
Pertell through his megaphone. "Hold back those men!" he added to his
assistant who had signaled for the Confederates to rush up.
CHAPTER XIII
FORGETFULNESS
Ruth and Alice for the moment were not quite certain whether or not this
was a part of the scene. Very often the director would spring some
unexpected effect for the sake of causing a natural surprise that would
register in the camera better than any simulated one.
But these were real cows, and they did not seem to have rehearsed their
parts very well, for they rushed here and there and surrounded the
carriage, to the no small terror of the horses, which Ruth had all she
could do to hold in.
"Oh, what shall we do?" cried Alice. "I'm going to jump out!"
"You'll do nothing of the sort!" exclaimed her sister. "Sit where you
are! Do you want to be trampled on or pierced with those sharp horns,
Alice?"
"I certainly do not!"
"Then sit still! This must be a mistake."
It did not take much effort on Ruth's part to make Alice remain in the
carriage with all those cows about. For she had learned on Rocky Ranch
that while a crowd of steers will pay no attention to a person on a
horse, once let the same person dismount, and he may be trampled down.
These, of course, were not wild steers--Alice could see that. But she
thought the same rule, in a measure, might hold good.
More cows crashed through the bushes until the road was fairly blocked,
and then came another rush of many feet and the Union skirmish party
came galloping along. They had received no orders to hold back, and so
dashed up.
At the same moment a ragged boy with a long whip came rushing up.
Evidently, he was in charge of the cows, but when he saw the soldiers in
their uniforms, a look of fear spread over his face.
"I didn't do nothin', Mister Captain! Honest I didn't!" he yelled.
"These is pap's cows, an' I'm drivin' 'em over to the man he sold 'em
to. I didn't do nothin'."
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