The Moving Picture Girls Snowbound Part 1

The Moving Picture Girls s...o...b..und.

by Laura Lee Hope.

CHAPTER I

TROUBLE

"Daddy is late; isn't he, Ruth?" asked Alice DeVere of her sister, as she looked up from her sewing.

"A little," answered the girl addressed, a tall, fair maid, with deep blue eyes, in the depths of which hidden meaning seemed to lie, awaiting discovery by someone.

"A little!" exclaimed Alice, who was rather plump, and whose dark brown hair and eyes were in pleasing contrast to her sister's fairness. "Why, he's more than an hour late, and he's seldom that! He promised to be back from the moving picture studio at four, and now it's after five."

"I know, dear, but you remember he said he had many things to talk over with Mr. Pertell, and perhaps it has taken him longer than he antic.i.p.ated.

"Besides you know there are some new plans to be considered," went on Ruth. "Mr. Pertell wants to get some different kinds of moving pictures--snow scenes, I believe--and perhaps he has kept daddy to talk about them. But why are you so impatient? Are you afraid something has happened to him?"

"Gracious, no! What put that idea into your head?"

"Well, I didn't know whether you had noticed it or not, but poor daddy hasn't been quite himself since we came back from Oak Farm. I am afraid something is bothering him--or worrying him."

"Perhaps it is his voice, though it has seemed better of late."

"I think not," said Ruth, slowly, as she bent her head in a listening att.i.tude, for a step was coming along the hallway in the Fenmore Apartment, where the DeVere girls and their father had their rather limited quarters.

"That isn't he," said Ruth, with a little sigh of disappointment. "I thought at first it was. No, I don't mean that it was his voice, Alice.

That really seems better since he so suddenly became hoa.r.s.e, and had to take up moving picture work instead of the legitimate drama he loves so much. It is some other trouble, Alice."

"I hadn't noticed it, I confess. But I suppose you'll say that I'm so flighty I never notice anything."

"I never called you flighty, dear. You are of a lively disposition, that's all."

"And you are a wee bit too much the other way, sister mine!" And then, to take any sting out of the words, Alice rose from her chair with a bound, crossed the room in a rush, and flung her arms about her sister, embracing her heartily and kissing her.

"Oh, Alice!" protested the other. "You are crus.h.i.+ng me!"

"I'm a regular bear, I suppose. Hark, is that daddy?"

They both listened, but the footsteps died away as before.

"Why are you so anxious?"

"I want some money, sister mine, and daddy promised to bring my moving picture salary up with him. I wanted to do a little shopping before the stores close. But I'm afraid it's too late now," the girl added, ruefully. "Daddy said he'd be here in plenty of time, and he never disappointed me before."

"Oh, if that's all you're worrying about, I'll lend you some money."

"Will you, really? Then I'll get ready and go. There's that little French shop just around the corner. They keep open after the others.

Madame Morey is so thrifty, and there was the sweetest s.h.i.+rt waist in the window the other day. I hope it isn't gone! I'll get ready at once.

You be getting out the money, Ruth, dear. Is there anything I can get for you? It's awfully kind of you. Shall I bring back anything for supper?"

"Gracious, what a rattlebox you're getting to be, Alice," spoke Ruth, soberly, as she laid aside her sewing and went to the bureau for her pocketbook.

"That's half of life!" laughed the younger girl. "Quick, Ruth, I want to get out and get back, and be here when daddy comes. I want to hear all about the new plans for taking moving picture plays. Is that the money?

Thanks! I'm off!" and the girl fairly rushed down the hall of the apartment. Ruth heard her call a greeting to Mrs. Dalwood, who lived across the corridor--a cheery greeting, in her fresh, joyous voice.

"Dear little sister!" murmured Ruth, as she sat with folded hands, looking off into s.p.a.ce and meditating. "She enjoys life!"

And certainly Alice DeVere did. Not that Ruth did not also; but it was in a different way. Alice was of a more lively disposition, and her father said she reminded him every day more and more of her dead mother. Ruth had an element of romanticism in her character, which perhaps accounted for her dreaminess at times. In the work of acting and posing for moving pictures, which was what the two girls, and their father, a veteran actor, were engaged in, Ruth always played the romantic parts, while nothing so rejoiced Alice as to have a hoydenish part to enact.

Alice hastened along the streets, now covered with a film of newly fallen snow. It was sifting down from a leaden sky, and the clouds had added to the darkness which was already coming that November evening.

"Oh, it's good to be alive, such weather as this!" Alice exulted as she hastened along, the crisp air and the exercise bringing to her cheeks a deeper bloom. Her eyes shone, and there was so much of life and youth and vitality in her that, as she hastened along through the falling snow, which dusted itself on her furs, more than one pa.s.serby turned to look at her in admiration. She was a "moving picture" in herself.

She lingered long in the quaint little French shop, there were so many bargains in the way of lingerie. Alice looked at many longingly, and turned some over more longingly, but she thought of her purse, and knew it would not stand the strain to which she contemplated putting it.

"I'll just have to wait about the others, Madame," she said, with a sigh. "I've really bought more now than I intended."

"I hope zat Mademoiselle will come often!" laughed the French woman.

Back through the streets, now covered with snow, hastened Alice, tripping lightly, and now and then, when she thought no one was watching her, she took a little run and slide, as in the days of her childhood.

Not that she was much more than a child still, being only a little over fifteen. Ruth was two years her senior, but Ruth considered herself quite "grown up."

"I wonder if daddy has come back yet?" Alice mused, as she hastened on to the apartment. "That looks like Russ Dalwood ahead of me," she went on, referring to the son of the neighbor across the hall. Russ "filmed,"

or made the moving pictures for the company by whom Mr. DeVere and his daughters were engaged. "Yes, it is Russ!" the girl exclaimed. "He has probably come right from the studio, and he'll know about daddy. Russ!

Russ!" she called, as she came nearer to the young man.

He turned, and a welcoming smile lighted his face.

"Oh, h.e.l.lo, Alice!" he greeted, genially. "Where's Ruth?"

"Just for that I shan't tell you! Don't you want to walk with _me_?" she asked, archly. "Why must you always ask for Ruth when I meet you alone?"

"I didn't! I mean--I--er----"

"Oh, don't try to make it any worse!" she laughed at his discomfiture.

"Let it go at that! Did you just come from the studio?"

"Yes, and we had a hard day of it. I forget how many thousand feet of film I reeled off."

"Was my father there?"

"Yes, he was with Mr. Pertell when I came out."

"I wonder what makes him so late?"

"Oh, there's a rush of work on. But I think he'll be along soon, for I heard Mr. Pertell say he wouldn't keep him five minutes."