, 1923-04-01

f.e. the pity of childhood and taous-
ands of children would be better cher
ished fos' the brief mArtrydom of
Terry Dack.
He who would make others weep
must first have we9t himself" And
Terry had learned TIE gentle art of
sltruistlc tears. His heal had en-
.arged its education. To his techni-
cal equipment a great weapon had
been added.
In a later scene he had to cry again
and now It was he hat pleaded with
Claymore in his anxiety for perfec-
ton.
TN cry all you want If you'll on'y
make me mad again. Call me a nal
ley cat. That makes mo awful mad"
obed,entiy Claymore called hin an
alley cat and even a gutter snipe;
and he caterwauled magnificently
with neatness and dispatch.
And go many layers his little soul
worked. striving to present a faithful
transcript of child life. child com.
ody, chlld tragedy. in order to buy
his mother pretty things and TO ave
her back from the torture Of the tub.
and to buy himself learning. power,
wealth, famo. and a future OF bound
less fcope.
There was a divinity about Il.
Terry was a veteran indeed now. He
rad been under fire. He had played
a big scene. had shed and inspired
salt water. or as the technical term
was. he had got the tear
Yet, superior as he felt to his Junior
1.-The infant h had played with the
pistol-he was himself a novice to a
veteran who gave him much useful
advice and comfort-a girl OF IL. an
old actress in a young art.
Polly Thorne had been a moving pic
ture actress since she was 8. She
belonged to n stepladder family Of
children. all of them on the screen.
all of them wholesome, handsome.
happy people. like Their parents. also
filmers.
Polly was n figure Of national i'm
portance. She had created a role In
a long series OF pictures OF childhood.
But Polly. a'asl had been doomed
- play the little mink and tattietale
who always told on her brother. Fa.
nous little Polly and her mother had
been sent on a long cross : continental
tour of personal appearances at NOV
ing-picture theaters. She hssi returned
in time to work in Claymore's cast.
But there vas sorrow in her heart.
She had found that because of her
brilliant impersonation OF the spite
full little wretch. the stupid public
confused her character with her char
a~cterization. In Minneapolis she had
overheard a e agent say that he
would not even escort her to the
theater because she was such a vixen.
NShe loved her public. and it was a
bitterness to have it persuaded that
she was unlovable.
Her eternal plea was now for some
scene that would redeem her reputa-
ton. She longed to show before the
camera the kindly spirit she revealed
away from it.
But most of al she longed for what
all actresses long fora crying scene.
Two things the normal desires above
all things: to Weep and to DO muir
dered coram populo-as every actor
wants most of all to play Hamlet,
debate suicide. and DO slain with a
poisoned rapier.
Polly entreated C1aymore tncess-
antIy:
"oh. please. dear good Mr.. Clay
more. won't you - wouldn't you
couldn't you kindly please put in a
little scene where I can cry"
Il don't see how I can in this pic.
turc, Pollykins.'' Claymore protest
ed. I'll have the next picture writ.
ten so h a you can drown in your
W tears"
\ oh. but the next one may never
tconer' Polly urged. "I'm getting too
big to play little girls. and I won't
be big enough 10 play o~njanoos for
two or three years. 1 may have to
leave the screen for a while. Couldn't
YOU Just slip in n little bit? You
know. when Miss steddon is sick
why couldn't I go to her and pet her
a little n cry over her7r
I'm see the author" said Clay.
more. "or maybe you'd better"
Polly turned the witchery OF her
shining yes on the author. wheed,ed
him. flattered him. courted him, all
for the boon OF a little brine.
And finally she coaxed a promise
from him that he woul1 ~interpolate a
scene with Miss Sheldon and give
Polly a good cry.
The news was glorious. She darted
to her mother squealing with delight.
h ran back n kissed the confused
scribe. who would one day boast that
the great Polly Tho-ne had honored
him with such a seal of approval.
Polly dashed to Mem and sat upon
Ter lap. tremulous with the rapture
Of her promotion TO the dignity OF a
priestess of grief. Mem understood
the thrill. She was looking back al.
ready from an increasing remoteness
- upon tho excitement of her own novi
Netc.
Strange people, these actors. who
plead for sufferingl Yet what else
do the rest of us but cultivate mis-.
cry. hug 1t to our hearts. run to em,
brace assured regret. make a habit
of renewed rem2rse. resent all warn,
inss and sign posts. and store ur
repentance in lavender. in old at
tics. in revisited scenes and haunted
night thoughts?
Since we cannot always find gr.ei
enough at home or In the mlsbe
havior OF our neiEhbors. we have a
cory newspaper dropped at our doors
every morning. We snatch at ex