cruelty it shows up every little defect in your face, how it catches every hidden thought and reveals it upon the screen, that she personified it so that Minnie felt a growing awe for it. She looked up into the steel face as it leaned over her and saw its cold unblinking glass eyes looking down, passive in its terrible power.
"You don't have to be afraid of it now," concluded Eleanor, seeing a shadow of fear fall upon Minnie's face. "You haven't any telltale lines yet. Wait until you're my age, sick and thin and discouraged."
The platform was moved out of their way so they hurried on to join the eager group pressing around Letcher. Letcher wasn't laughing now. He was working furiously, the sweat standing out on his brow as he checked over the names of the people who were to work in the set.
"Grant!" he called. "Grant! Where the hell is she?"
"Here I am. What's the idea of yelling like that?"
"Beg your pardon, Eleanor. Didn't see you. You're not to get any number. Bacon will probably pick you out to do a bit."
Eleanor was placated.
"Oh, there you are, little one," to Minnie. "Stand out so I can give you the double O."
With confused alarm Minnie edged away from him.
"Stand out as I told you. How do you suppose I'm going to look you over if you hug the wall?"
He motioned for her to turn around, and she mechanically obeyed him, feeling like a rat in a trap. He drew his brows together, puckered his mouth into a long whistle. At last he spoke.
"What are you made up for, girlie, a Sunday School picnic?"
