Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1927)

Film Struck 55 Before a great while, in his aimless meandering he found himself at the far end of the crooked street, beyond the row of sham buildings, and almost beyond earshot of the merrymakers. He sank to a rock, his eyes fixed upon the vast stretch of desert that seemed to reach as far as he could see : a boundless waste of undulating sand, ghostly under the stars. The solitude, the immeasurable distances, awed and impressed him. A long time afterward, startling him, spoke. Instinctively he knew, even before he turned, that it was the girl of his bus bringing him to earth again, some one quaintance, the pretty, cricketlike creature who had hopped upon his lap and perched there boldly, unabashed. CHAPTER VIII. FOUND A PENNY. Despite his sudden embarrassment, Oscar welcomed the unexpected intruder. He craved companionship, some oiie to talk to, the sound of a friendly voice. The silent world about him, the vast emptiness, seemed cold and melancholy. "Hello !" he exclaimed, getting to his feet. "Hello yourself," the girl responded pertly, dropping into the warm sand. "I've been looking all over the place for you. I just thought, when I didn't see you anywhere around, you'd be out star-gazing. And here you are! Big, aren't they? The stars, I mean." "They're whoppers," Oscar agreed, his embarrassment fading. "Looks like you could reach up and pull down a handful, don't it?" "A handful wouldn't be missed from up there," she remarked. "They look darned frigid. Like some of the stars on the studio lots." The girl proceeded to make herself comfortable, her back against a rock, her slim, white arms hugging her knees ; and after a bit of silence between the two, during which time Oscar felt she was studying him closely, she spoke again. "How do you like the location?" "It's nice. I like it." "You do?" She seemed to be surprised. "Have you been out much before— I mean on locations?" Oscar shook his head. "Never," he answered. "Well, you must be pretty much independent. Stick right in Hollywood, do you ? How long you been in the business ?" "What business?" "Why, this one. The flicker-flicker! Pictures," she exclaimed. "Oh, I haven't been in it at all. You see" — Oscar caught himself just in time — "that is," he went on lamely, "I — I don't care so much about the business." The girl leaned forward. "Are you trying to tell me this is your first plunge?" "I guess so." He began to squirm a little under the pertinent questions ; wished the girl would talk of something else — something less disquieting. "Good Lord! If you don't like the game, why in the world are you trying to break in?" "I'm not ; that is " He floundered again. "Well, what's the kink?" she asked, endeavoring to help him out. "I've thought all along you weren't the regular brand of lot-hopper. You're different. And maybe I don't know ! I could write a book, only what's the use? Folks don't read any more, except movie captions. My name's Miss Holt. Penelope. In four syllables, please, with the accent on the second. Don't make it rhyme with cantaloupe. Call me Penny, for short. I'm usually that way," she added. "Now what's yours? Your real name, not your film moniker." "Oscar Watt," he answered, remembering. The girl laughed. "Not really ! Oscar Watt ? What a name !" "It does sound funny," he admitted, grinning. He felt guilty in deceiving the girl, but there was nothing to be done about it. That name was on the blue card and so long as he remained here he must use it.