Picture-Play Magazine (Sep 1928 - Feb 1929)

A Girl Comes to Hollywood 55 had brought her, if she'd been anything like a coward. "What is your name besides Smith, mademoiselle?" Pierre had asked, after her arrival to take up her new duties, while the restaurant was still empty of clienrs. "That is my Hollywood name — Miss Smith," the girl insisted firmly but gently. "Or Mary Smith, if you wish, Monsieur Pierre." And Pierre hadn't looked pleased. But to-night she longed to tell Malcolm Allen all the details of her strange story, watching his face to see if he believed she spoke the truth. She wanted to say to him : "I am Madeleine Standish. Did you ever read that name in the newspapers, and do you remember in what connection ?" Malcolm Allen had been chivalrous to her mild. What do you recommend ?" Madeleine suggested, something mentholated ; and as he paid, Malcolm said: "I've been talking to Lady Gates about you, Miss Smith. At least, I've been telling her you're a princess in disguise, and that interests her very much. Doesn't it, Aunt Kate?" as men are in books and plays and, she had been warned, very seldom are in real life. Yes, he was her one friend; but she must do without his advice and keep her secret for a time, at least. Besides, she was probably doomed to lose his friendship, because here was this stout, old lady, "all dolled up," as Nora Casey put it; his aunt, it seemed. She had the air of being "rich, and fond of her nephew. As she had followed him to Hollywood, she was most likely alone in the world, and intended to leave him heaps of money when she died. Madeleine Standish, alias Mary Smith, was still so young — not quite twenty-two — that if a woman were fifty, she might as well be seventy-five and have done with it. So Madeleine thought of Lady Gates as a doddering old thing, who might be of any age up to eighty, and old enough to drop dead to-morrow. When Malcolm had seated Lady Gates facing all the "human interest" of the softly lighted, attractive room, Madeleine didn't glide in her Moorish slippers to his table, smiling her lovely, friendly smile, and proffering her tray of cigarettes. If Mr. Allen wanted her, he could beckon, or ask. But Malcolm did beckon. He took pains to catch Miss Smith's glance when it wandered in his direction, and eye and hand both invited the girl to serve him. "Cigarettes, Mr. Allen?" she asked. "Yes, thanks," he replied. "Egyptians for me, and I'm going to teach my aunt to smoke something very "Yes, of course," returned Lady Gates, s m i 1ing pleasantly, though she was not devoid of interior cattiness. "I'm quite i n t e r e sted, and I'd like to see something of you. But I suppose we mustn't keep you talking too long here, or the proprietor will be vexed. Maybe he'd be disagreeable to So I've been thinking. Let's see. what times of the day or evening are you off duty?" "I come on at half past ten in the morning," Madeleine told her. "At least, I have to be here then, to get into this dress. And every other night I'll be off at nine. To-night's one of them, because they don't have dancing. The other girl, Miss Casey, will be on to-night till twelve. To-morrow, I'll be here till midnight." "Dear me !" exclaimed Lady Gates, sound like what they call union hours." "I don't belong to any union," said Madeleine. "And I'm only too glad to work at Montparnasse, no matter how late I have to stay." Malcolm wondered if she'd asked Pierre to let her stay on dancing nights, for the sake of Lopez, at whom he had seen her stare with — with that almost greedy look ! Another stab of jealousy and dislike of the professional gave him a sharp pang. "Well, I'm going to the opening of a picture with my nephew tonight, as soon as we finish dinner," said Lady Gates. "He has excited me, telling about the crowd that collects to see the stars get out of their grand limousines in front of the theater, and how the photographers turn on floods of calcium or something, to take their pictures. Why, Malcolm is such a celebrity, I'm afraid they may snap me along with him. That's the one reason I'm scared to go !" Madeleine imagined that "scared" ought to read "I hope." But in this she misjudged Katherine Gates. The stout, elderly woman was scared. If there were indeed a chance of reducing her size, and improving her elderly self, in any desperate way in this clever Hollywood, Continued on page 92 'That doesn't