"Everything's jake with me, Governor. How's things over at your shop?""So, so. I see you're working."
"Only for two days. I'm just atmosphere in this piece. I got some real stuff coming along pretty soon for Baxter. Got to climb down ten stories of a hotel elevator cable, and ride a brake-beam and be pushed off a cliff and thrown to the lions, and a few other little things.""That's good, Flips. Come in and see me some time. Have a little chat. Ma working?""Yeah--got a character bit with Charlotte King in Her Other Husband." "Glad to hear it. How's Pa Montague?""Pa's in bed. They've signed him for Camillia of the Cumberlands, providing he raises a brush, and just now it ain't long enough for whiskers and too long for anything else, so he's putterin' around with his new still.""Well, drop over sometime, Flips, I'm keeping you in mind.""Thanks, Governor. Say--" Merton glanced up in time to see her wink broadly at the man, and look toward his companion who still seriously made notes on the back of an envelope. The man's face melted to a grin which he quickly erased. The girl began again:
"Mr. Henshaw--could you give me just a moment, Mr. Henshaw?" The serious director looked up in quite frank annoyance.
"Yes, yes, what is it, Miss Montague?"
"Well, listen, Mr. Henshaw, I got a great idea for a story, and Iwas thinking who to take it to and I thought of this one and Ithought of that one, and I asked my friends, and they all say take it to Mr. Henshaw, because if a story has any merit he's the one director on the lot that can detect it and get every bit of value out of it, so I thought--but of course if you're busy just now--"The director thawed ever so slightly. "Of course, my girl, I'm busy--but then I'm always busy. They run me to death here. Still, it was very kind of your friends, and of course--""Thank you, Mr. Henshaw." She clasped her hands to her breast and gazed raptly into the face of her coy listener.
"Of course I'll have to have help on the details, but it starts off kind of like this. You see I'm a Hawaiian princess--" She paused, gazing aloft.
"Yes, yes, Miss Montague--an Hawaiian princess. Go on, go on!""Oh, excuse me; I was thinking how I'd dress her for the last spool in the big fire scene. Well, anyway, I'm this Hawaiian princess, and my father, old King Mauna Loa, dies and leaves me twenty-one thousand volcanoes and a billiard cue--"Mr. Henshaw blinked rapidly at this. For a moment he was dazed. "Abilliard cue, did you say?" he demanded blankly.
"Yes. And every morning I have to go out and ram it down the volcanoes to see are they all right--and--""Tush, tush!" interrupted Mr. Henshaw scowling upon the playwright and fell again to his envelope, pretending thereafter to ignore her.
The girl seemed to be unaware that she had lost his attention. "And you see the villain is very wealthy; he owns the largest ukelele factory in the islands, and he tries to get me in his power, but he's foiled by my fiance, a young native by the name of Herman Schwarz, who has invented a folding ukelele, so the villain gets his hired Hawaiian orchestra to shove Herman down one of the volcanoes and me down another, but I have the key around my neck, which Father put there when I was a babe and made me swear always to wear it, even in the bath-tub, so I let myself out and unlock the other one and let Herman out and the orchestra discovers us and chases us over the cliff, and then along comes my old nurse who is now running a cigar store in San Pedro and she--" Here she affected to discover that Mr. Henshaw no longer listened.
"Why, Mr. Henshaw's gone!" she exclaimed dramatically. "Boy, boy, page Mr. Henshaw." Mr. Henshaw remained oblivious.
"Oh, well, of course I might have expected you wouldn't have time to listen to my poor little plot. Of course I know it's crude, but it did seem to me that something might be made out of it." She resumed her food. Mr. Henshaw's companion here winked at her and was seen to be shaking with emotion. Merton Gill could not believe it to be laughter, for he had seen nothing to laugh at. A busy man had been bothered by a silly girl who thought she had the plot for a photodrama, and even he, Merton Gill, could have told her that her plot was impossibly wild and inconsequent. If she were going into that branch of the art she ought to take lessons, the way Tessie Kearns did. She now looked so mournful that he was almost moved to tell her this, but her eyes caught his at that moment and in them was a light so curious, so alive with hidden meanings, so eloquent of some iron restraint she put upon her own emotions, that he became confused and turned his gaze from hers almost with the rebuking glare of Henshaw. She glanced quickly at him again, studying his face for the first time. There had been such a queer look in this young man's eyes; she understood most looks, but not that one.
Henshaw was treating the late interruption as if it had not been.
"You see, Governor, the way we got the script now, they're in this tomb alone for the night--understand what I mean--and that's where the kick comes for the audience. They know he's a strong young fellow and she's a beautiful girl and absolutely in his power--see what I mean?--but he's a gentleman through and through and never lays a hand on her. Get that? Then later along comes this Ben Ali Ahab--"The Montague girl glanced again at the face of the strange young man whose eyes had held a new expression for her, but she and Mr.
Henshaw and the so-called governor and all those other diners who rattled thick crockery and talked unendingly had ceased to exist for Merton Gill. A dozen tables down the room and nearer the door sat none other than Beulah Baxter. Alone at her table, she gazed raptly aloft, meditating perhaps some daring new feat. Merton Gill stared, entranced, frozen. The Montague girl perfectly understood this look and traced it to its object. Then she surveyed Merton Gill again with something faintly like pity in her shrewd eyes. He was still staring, still rapt.
