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riioto by Gilbert A Bacon
Miss Aladdin of the Arc Lamps
By ROBERTA COURTLANDT
"1\/TISS Clayton? I'm sorry, but 1 VI sne ^sn t m She went over to the studio about an hour ago," said a white-capped maid when I rang the bell at Miss Ethel Clayton's apartment.
So I went over to the studio and presented my request.
"Miss Clayton? Why, she was here just a few minutes ago," said the spectacled young man whom I' asked, and he scuttled off, presumably to hunt for Miss Clayton. But, after I had waited twenty minutes, I decided to hunt for her myself.
So I wandered around thru the mammoth studio, with its weird lights, its clutter of queer-iooking props, and its crowds of "made-up" players in clothes of every century and every land, and with its shirt-sleeved, perspiring directors.
I came near spoiling a "scene" when I almost stumbled into a "set," and it scared me so badly that I dropped down on an old couch, to recover my scattered thoughts.
"How do you do?" said a very polite voice, as I realized that some one else occupied the couch with me. It was dusky in that corner, and I got only a glimmer of a white frock and a misty blur of a face that seemed swung in the air above the softness of the white frock. And the more I looked, the more that face seemed like a rare and beautiful painting.
There was a flash of dimples, a glimpse of white teeth, and the blue eyes in the misty face across from me twinkled.
"No, I'm not a ghost. I'm only an actress," said a laughing voice, and only then did I realize my good luck. I had almost literallv stumbled over the object of my search.
It seemed too good to be true, so I hurried on to talk, for fear she would run away, or "fade out" like one of those impossibly lovely visions in Motion Pictures.