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i8
Photoplay Magazine
You may have been "caught" reading, Mary. But child! Isn't that a dictionary?
Pickford is many different colors, but they are always warm and soft and beautiful — she is like a sunset sky. Dustin and William Farnum are very different. To William I gave russet brown and woodland green, while to Dustin I gave purple streaked with cerise. I gave Madame Bertha Kalich violet streaked with crimson." She laughed lightly. "Perhaps I put in the crimson because she got mad at me once. We made it all up afterward and I love her.
"In the play, she was supposed to be my mother and all through rehearsals I persisted in skipping when she wanted me to walk. Finally she said, 'Oh, it is true! The child CAN'T walk! Come here to me, Little One. I, Kalich, will teach you how to walk!" (Miss Minter had laid aside her knitting and was giving a funny imitation of herself and Madame Kalich.)
" 'See!' Madame Kalich went on, T am your mother, but you have not seen me for a long time. Come, express
it, so! " -— (Showing just how Kalich wanted her to do, she took two little steps and drew back a little, then three little steps and drew back a little, finishing up in a run.) "It wasn't natural for me to do it that way,"' she went on. "Madame rehearsed me again and again, but I wanted to skip and so I could not — or would not — do it right. Anyway, I didn't skip on the night of the performance; I walked, but not — oh, not — as Kalich wanted me to! I held my knees as stiff as if they were sticks — (she illustrated with telling effect)— it broke Kalich all up and she was furious. 'The child have ruin everyt'ing,' she said. 'She have deser-r-crate my art ! '
"All of us get mad when we have some good cause for it. I can remember just rs well how mad I got at Maude Fealy because she used one of my socks as a handkerchief, and I was only about five years old. It was during Cameo Kirby. Miss Fealy had a dreadful cold, she had mislaid her handkerchief, and had only a few seconds before it was time for her to go on. She was looking around desperately, when she spied Mama standing there with a pair of my socks. 'Oh, give me that, please,' she said and snatched one of them. I had to go on 'sockless!' "Here, at the studio, everything goes like clockwork," she remarked. "I'm living the most monotonous life."
Her days are, for the most part, spent at the studio, and her evenings at lessons. She is taking music (vocal and piano), French and literature, and has three tutors, giving two nights a week to each. Even in as small a city as Santa Barbara, she is personally very little known, outside of the Hotel Arlington where she lives with her mother, grandmother, and her beautiful brunette sister, Margaret Shelby. But, of course, Mary Miles Minter is none the less a favorite subject of conversation and some of the things said about her would make good plots for scenarios. For instance, one day Margaret Shelby was sitting next to some of the inhabitants of Montecito, the millionaire colony, in a picture show, when she heard one say:
"Mary Miles Minter is thir-r-rty-nine years old; you'd never think it, would vou?"