child onto the ledge of the window, introduced herself as the mother of little "Buddy" Green who had done such remarkable work for them in the Marguerite Clark picture. Buddy was ill with the mumps but she had brought his little sister "Peaches" along as she knew they would be delighted to discover another infant prodigy . . . which brought no response from the impersonal young man other than slight jerks of his head and a request that she fill out a card stating age of child, experience, child's telephone number, etc.
Minnie waited fifteen minutes before she was again called to the barred window. He had very little to say to her, asking briefly whether she had brought an afternoon dress. She nodded eagerly and held up the brown paper parcel. Motioning that she was to go through the door into the dressing rooms he handed her an admission slip and turned again to the swelling line.
There were a dozen girls in the dressing room when Minnie entered, but no one looked up or paid any attention to her. The first call to the set had been shouted down the corridors and there was no time to lose. They were painting, powdering, white-washing arms and necks, sliding into rustling costumes or sheer, delicate dresses.
Minnie put on her makeup quickly. Then she lifted out of the paper parcel the shimmering evening gown and held it up, surveying it critically as if she didn't quite approve of it. A swift glance around the room told her there wasn't another dress to compare with it, and Minnie couldn't resist the temptation to flaunt it before them. She was hoping someone would exclaim over it so she could answer as Eleanor had done, "Yes, it's a sweet little thing but simple, quite simple."
A man came to the door, evidently an assistant director. He spoke in a low, well modulated voice. "All the girls
