The Richmond Virginian. (Richmond, Va.) 1910-1920, 1916-03-21
TITLE Johnnie Wiseacre sat
outside the door of his dress

outside the door of his dress
@-~ ing room the other afternoon
reading Ibsens Ghosts" as | passed
by and paused to "green-room" Cos
sip with him a few minutes about the
latest avalanche of studio work.
How old are you now. Johnnie" /
asked him, after | had listened to a
long dissertation on the cult and Gull
ture of the photoplay. ..-
"Just eight, Miss Pickford, bat /
think Pm rather old for my age, don't
your"
Indeed I do" and laid lament
able stress upon my words, Too old.
Johnnie, about sixty years too old
Johnnie looked hurt. but only for
a moment, as real spring time youth
has the rare assurance that the opin-
ions of its elders bear very little
weight after all.
My mother always tried to develop
my mind in broader channels, con-
tinued Johnnie. who now studied rne
eoldiy. "Shc firmly believes that ! will
grow up to be a clever man if learn
to think clearly at an-eariy- age.
SO that is why you read Iesen
and" | smiled, trying to keep ruy
eyes from dancing
II enjoy Shakespeare and Suder-
mann immensely" interrupted little
Johnnie. assuming a selfprotect've
attitude Some day hope to- play
Hamlet, or even Macbeth. Mother
says that if | hold to that thought
long enough. it is bound to come
true"
Undoubtedly" and smiled again,
"but aren't you a little young to be
delving into the big, dusty book
shelves? Do you ever read the Boy
Scout books or Robert Louis Steven
sons stories of adventure,"
boy Scoutsi" he cried derisivssy.
Adventure storiesi They are almost
a. silly as fairy stuff! What funny
ideas you have, Miss Pickfordf' And
then he stared at me with Peter Pans
immortal question in his eyes: Why
WNy--N~U 90 you pOllCNC III ldii iSs.
"Of course l believe in fairy
stories, and | hope shall never for
get the fun | had when | was your
age. In spite of the fact that had
been on the stage for three years. |
was sure that mermaids lived happily
In their under-the-sea palaces and
that gnomes ran taverns in the hol-
lows OF every ancient oak
Johnnie Wiseaere laughed until his
little body was convulsed with mcrri-
ment.
"O-o-oh, Miss Pickford. I'd be
ashamed to tell it. II some Of the kids
around the studio heard you talk like
that--h'ml"
What would they say?" I inter
rupted eagerly. Johnnie made cir
cular motion with his finers upon his
temples, indicating wheels turning
with great rapidity.
Don't even the younger children
read fairy stories7" | asked him, truly
surprised. because | thought 1t was a
part of every child's education. He
looked at me incredulously.
IL should say not. We think they're
--pifflel" !.
Here the director called me. and
when returned johnnie was gone,
Ibsen's Ghosts" aud all.
Alone In my dressing room. | sat
for a long while. weighing his words
seriously and wondering who was in
the wrong-Johnnie's mother or /.
Her belief was that children should
assimilate their knowledge only from
the worldgrcat sages and that their
brains should not be burdened with
any impractical, useless kernels of
fact or fiction. |, on the other hand.
had always felt that the imagination
of children would be eolored and
ripened by their mental voyages into
fairyland.
Whsa . iittls child dreams that.