BOBBY IN MOVIELAND
_FATHER FINN’S FAMOUS STORIES_
_Each volume with a Frontispiece_,
CANDLES’ BEAMS. Short Stories
SUNSHINE AND FRECKLES
LORD BOUNTIFUL
ON THE RUN
BOBBY IN MOVIELAND
FACING DANGER
HIS LUCKIEST YEAR. A Sequel to “Lucky Bob”
LUCKY BOB
PERCY WYNN; or, Making a Boy of Him
TOM PLAYFAIR; or, Making a Start
HARRY DEE; or, Working It Out
CLAUDE LIGHTFOOT; or, How the Problem Was Solved
ETHELRED PRESTON; or, The Adventures of a Newcomer
THAT FOOTBALL GAME; and What Came of It
THAT OFFICE BOY
CUPID OF CAMPION
THE FAIRY OF THE SNOWS
THE BEST FOOT FORWARD; AND OTHER STORIES
MOSTLY BOYS. SHORT STORIES
HIS FIRST AND LAST APPEARANCE
BUT THY LOVE AND THY GRACE
[Illustration: In perfect good faith Bobby stepped forward, passed the
director, saying as he went, “Excuse me, sir,” and ignoring Compton and
the “lady” and “gentleman,” strode over to the bellhop. —_Page 69._]
BOBBY
IN MOVIELAND
BY
FRANCIS J. FINN, S.J.
Author of “Percy Wynn,” “Tom Playfair,”
“Harry Dee,” etc.
[Illustration]
NEW YORK, CINCINNATI, CHICAGO
BENZIGER BROTHERS
COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY BENZIGER BROTHERS
Printed in the United States of America.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I IN WHICH THE FIRST CHAPTER IS WITHIN A LITTLE OF BEING THE 9
LAST
II TENDING TO SHOW THAT MISFORTUNES NEVER COME SINGLY 18
III IT NEVER RAINS BUT IT POURS 31
IV MRS. VERNON ALL BUT ABANDONS HOPE 44
V A NEW WAY OF BREAKING INTO THE MOVIES 58
VI BOBBY ENDEAVORS TO SHOW THE ASTONISHED COMPTON HOW TO BEHAVE 72
VII THE END OF A DAY OF SURPRISES 81
VIII BOBBY MEETS AN ENEMY ON THE BOULEVARD AND A FRIEND IN THE 92
LANTRY STUDIO
IX SHOWING THAT IMITATION IS NOT ALWAYS THE SINCEREST FLATTERY, 104
AND RETURNING TO THE MISADVENTURES OF BOBBY’S MOTHER
X BOBBY, ASSISTED BY PEGGY, DEMONSTRATES A METHOD OF OBSERVING 114
SILENCE, AND CELEBRATES A RED-LETTER DAY
XI THE END OF ONE SCENARIO AND THE OUTLINING OF COMPTON’S GREAT 128
IDEA
XII BOBBY BECOMES FAMOUS OVERNIGHT 138
XIII BERNADETTE’S TEMPERAMENT DELAYS THE SCENARIO, AND MRS. VERNON 150
MAKES TWO CHILDREN HAPPY
XIV MRS. VERNON ATTENDS A MOVING-PICTURE SHOW AND FINDS IN IT A 160
GREAT LESSON UNTHOUGHT OF BY THE AUTHOR
XV COMPTON’S GREAT SCENARIO IS FINISHED NOT A MOMENT TOO SOON 166
XVI CONTAINING NOTHING BUT HAPPY EXPLANATIONS AND A STILL HAPPIER 180
LOVE SCENE
XVII THE FOUR CHILDREN AROUSE SUSPICION, UNTIL WITH THE MOST 196
MOMENTOUS EVENT IN THIS NARRATIVE, ALL IS MADE CLEAR
Bobby in Movieland
CHAPTER I
IN WHICH THE FIRST CHAPTER IS WITHIN A LITTLE OF BEING THE LAST
“Say, ma; honest, I don’t want to go in. Just all I want is to take off
my shoes and socks and walk where the water just comes up to my ankles.”
As the speaker, a boy of eight, was dressed in the fashion common to the
youth of Los Angeles and its environment, it is but fair to state that
with the taking off of shoes and socks the process of disrobing was
really far advanced.
“My mother has let me take mine off,” put in a bare-legged little girl.
“We won’t go into the water really at all, Mrs. Vernon. Oh, please let
Bobby come along.”
The time was morning—a clear, golden, flower-scented morning in early
July. The place was the sandy shore of Long Beach. There were few
bathers about, as it was Monday, when the week-enders had returned to
their several occupations, while the pleasure-seekers living or lodging
there were resting from the strenuous gayety of Sunday.
Mrs. Vernon, a beautiful young woman, in half-mourning, was strolling
with her only child and the girl, an acquaintance made on the train,
along the sands. They were all transients, presently to take a train
north.
Bobby Vernon was a highly interesting child to look at. Rather small for
his age, he was lithe and shapely. His complexion was delicately fair,
his chestnut hair rather long. All these things were enough to attract
attention; but above and beyond these were the features. Blue eyes,
cupid mouth, a sensitive upper lip, an eloquent, chubby little nose—all
had this in common that they were expressive of his every passing
thought and emotion. He had a face, in a word, at once speaking and
engaging.
The girl, Peggy Sansone, a year or two older, was a brunette, a decided
contrast. She was a chance acquaintance, made by Bobby on the Pullman,
with the result that, once they had exchanged a few words, there was no
more sleeping during the daylight hours for the other occupants of that
car.
Mrs. Vernon felt in her heart it would be more prudent to refuse the
request. She feared that she was making a mistake. But she was just then
preoccupied and sad. Now, sadness is weakening.
“Well, Bobby, if I give you permission, you won’t go far? And you’ll be
back at the station in half an hour, and won’t get lost?”
“I know the way back to the station,” volunteered the girl. “And I’ll
promise you to see him back myself. You know, I’ve got my watch.” Here
Peggy, with the sweet vanity of childhood, held up for view her dainty
wrist watch.
“Whoopee!” cried Bobby, jumping into his mother’s arms, planting a kiss
on her brow, dropping down to the sand and, apparently all in one
motion, taking off shoes and socks.
Light-heartedly, hand in hand with the girl, he pattered down the sands
to the water. The two little ones radiated joy and youth and life. To
them the coming half-hour was to be, so they thought, “a little bit of
heaven.” The girl had no premonition of the saddest day of her
childhood; the boy no thought of the forces of earth and water that were
about to change so strangely his and his mother’s life.
It has already been observed that it was a day of golden sunshine; but
to one conversant with the waters of Long Beach there was something
ominous about the face of the changing sea. It was not high tide; but
the surf was showing its milk-white teeth in a beauty profuse and cruel,
with the cruelty of the sea which takes and returns no more, while the
rollers swept in with a violence and a height that were unusual. The
life savers were watchful and uneasy. To the two children, however, the
white-lipped ocean was as bland and as gay as the sunshine.
As their feet were covered by an incoming roller the girl screamed and
Bobby danced—both for the same reason, for sheer joy. Hand in hand they
pattered along, making their way further and further into the pathway of
the breakers. In a few minutes they had advanced along the shore to a
spot where they were apparently alone.
Then began a series of daring ventures.
“Say!” said Bobby. “This is the first time in all my life that I ever
put my feet in the Pacific Ocean. But I know how to swim, all right, and
I’m not a bit afraid.” As Bobby spoke he was moving slowly out into the
water, which was now nearly up to his knees.
“Hold on! You’re going too far,” said the girl, releasing Bobby’s hand
and slipping back. “I’ve been in often, but I’m afraid just the same.”
“Girls are cowards,” Bobby announced. “Come on, Peggy; I’ll take care of
you.”
Peggy by way of return fastened her large, beautiful dark eyes in hero
worship upon her companion. Nevertheless, instead of accepting his
invitation, she drew back a few steps more.
“Now remember, Bobby, you told your mother you were only going
ankle-deep. You’re up to your knees now.”
“That’s so,” said Bobby, pausing and turning his back upon the incoming
waves. “I ought not to break my word. Say, Peggy”—here Bobby’s face
threw itself, every feature of it, into a splendor of enthusiasm—“do
you think it would be wrong if I were to fall over and float? Then I
wouldn’t be more than ankle-deep anyhow.”
Peggy’s large eyes grew larger in glorious admiration.
Now Bobby being very human—even as you and I—was not insensible to the
girl’s expression. It spurred him on to do something really daring. He
was tempted at that moment to forget his mother’s words and to go boldly
out and meet the breakers in their might. For a few minutes there was a
clean-cut battle in the lad’s soul between love of praise and the still,
small voice we call conscience; as a consequence of which Bobby’s
features twisted and curled and darkened. The battle was a short one,
and it is only fair to say that the still, small voice scored a victory.
However, the breakers were not interested in such a fight though it may
have appealed with supreme interest to all the choirs of angels. The
conflict over, Bobby’s eyes grew bright, and all the sprites of innocent
gayety showed themselves at once in his every feature.
“Peggy,” he began, “you are right. A promise is a promise—always. And
then I made it to my mother. I would like to show you a thing or two,
but—Why, what’s the matter?”
Her expression startled him. If ever tragedy and horror were expressed
by the eyes, Bobby saw these emotions in the beautiful orbs of Peggy.
Her face had lost its rich southern hue, fear was in her pose and in
every feature, but Bobby saw only the tragedy of the eyes. They were
unforgettable.
“Bobby!” she gasped. “Run! run!” And the child followed her own advice.
Bobby, infected by her terror, turned. But it was too late. Close upon
him curled and roared a huge roller, a white-crested wave. In the moment
he looked upon it Bobby saw the rollers in a new light. A few moments
before they were gay, frolicsome things, showing their teeth in
laughter. Now they were strange, strong monsters foaming at the mouth.
“Oh!” cried Bobby in horror. He said no more; for as he spoke, the wave
caught him, spun him around, pulled him down, raised him up, and carried
him off in its strong, uncountable arms towards the deep sea. Bobby
kicked and struggled; but he was swept on as though he were a toy.
Peggy, meanwhile having run back twenty or thirty paces, turned, and
wringing her hands, scanned the troubled waters. She saw no sign of the
boy.
Peggy was young and timid. Upon her came an unreasoning fear. Bobby was
drowned and maybe it was her fault! Maybe she would be hanged for
murder! And how could she face a bereaved and already widowed mother?
For the first and only time in her life Peggy ardently wished she were
dead. Then, looking neither to left nor right, she ran back along the
shore.
Bobby was drowned! But she would tell no one. For the moment a wild
thought of running away entered her soul. And she would have run away if
she only knew whither to fly.
Still running, she wept and she prayed. She ceased her flight only when
she came to the spot where her tiny shoes and socks lay beside those of
Bobby’s. Then she sat down and gave loose to her grief. When the first
fierce desolation and agony had passed, she put on her shoes and began
to think.
Suddenly her drawn face relaxed. Her mother! Had she not always brought
her griefs to that tender, loving soul? She would seek her at once and
tell all. She glanced at her watch. Forty-five minutes had passed! She
had exceeded her time by a quarter of an hour. It was nearly train time.
There was not a second to be lost.
As she rose to her feet something unusual had occurred. The ground
beneath her seemed to be swinging up and down.
Peggy was a native. In normal circumstances she would have been normally
excited; but in her present condition she hardly noticed that she was in
the throes of an earthquake.
So calmly ignoring the shouts of men and the hysteria of women who came
running out in hundreds from house and hotel, Peggy went forward at a
smart trot to bring the awful tidings to Mrs. Sansone, her mother.