AN ATTRACTIVE GIRL
On Saturday they were treated to a genuine surprise, for when the omnibus
drew up before the hotel entrance it brought Arthur Weldon and his
girl-wife, Louise, who was Uncle John's eldest niece. It also brought
"the Cherub," a wee dimpled baby hugged closely in the arms of Inez, its
Mexican nurse.
Patsy and Beth shrieked in ecstasy as they rushed forward to smother
"Toodlums," as they irreverently called the Cherub, with kisses. Inez, a
handsome, dark-eyed girl, relinquished her burden cheerfully to the two
adoring "aunties," while Uncle John kissed Louise and warmly shook the
hand of her youthful husband.
"What in the world induced you to abandon your beloved ranch?" inquired
Mr. Merrick.
"Don't ask me, sir!" replied Arthur, laughing at the elder gentleman's
astonishment. He was a trim young fellow, with a clean-cut, manly face
and frank, winning manners.
"It's sort of between hay and grass with us, you know," he explained.
"Walnuts all marketed and oranges not ready for the pickers. All our
neighbors have migrated, this way or that, for their regular winter
vacations, and after you all left, Louise and I began to feel lonely. So
at breakfast this morning we decided to flit. At ten o'clock we caught
the express, and here we are--in time for lunch. I hope it's ready,
Uncle John."
It was; but they must get their rooms and settle the baby in her new
quarters before venturing to enter the dining room. So they were late for
the midday meal and found themselves almost the only guests in the great
dining hall.
As they sat at table, chatting merrily together, Arthur asked:
"What are you staring at, Patsy?"
"A lovely girl," said she. "One of the loveliest girls I have ever seen.
Don't look around, Arthur; it might attract their attention."
"How many girls are there?"
"Two; and a lady who seems to be their mother. The other girl is pretty,
too, but much younger than her sister--or friend, for they do not
resemble one another much. They came in a few minutes ago and are seated
at the table in the opposite corner."
"New arrivals, I suppose," remarked Uncle John, who from his position
could observe the group.
"No," said Patsy; "their waitress seems to know them well. But I've never
before seen them in the hotel."
"We are always early at meal time," explained Beth, "and to-day these
people are certainly late. But they _are_ pretty girls, Patsy. For once I
concur in your judgment."
"You arouse my curiosity," said Arthur, speaking quietly, so as not to be
overheard in the far corner. "If I hear more ecstatic praises of these
girls I shall turn around and stare them out of countenance."
"Don't," said Louise. "I'm glad your back is toward them, Arthur, for it
preserves you from the temptation to flirt."
"Oh, as for that, I do not need to turn around in order to see pretty
girls," he replied.
"Thank you, Arthur," said Patsy, making a face at him. "Look me over all
you like, and flirt if you want to. I'm sure Louise won't object."
"Really, Patsy, you're not bad to look at," he retorted, eyeing her
critically. "Aside from your red hair, the pug nose and the freckles, you
have many excellent qualities. If you didn't squint--"
"Squint!"
"What do you call that affection of your eyes?"
"That," she said, calmly eating her dessert, "was a glance of
scorn--burning, bitter scorn!"
"I maintain it was a squint," declared Arthur.
"That isn't her only expression," announced Uncle John, who loved these
little exchanges of good-humored banter. "On Monday I will show you Patsy
as a terror-stricken damsel in distress."
"Also Beth, still more distressful," added Patsy; and then they told
Louise and Arthur about the picture.
"Fine!" he cried. "I'm deeply gratified that my own relatives--"
"By marriage."
"I am gratified that my secondhand cousins have been so highly honored.
I'd rather see a good moving picture than the best play ever produced."
"You'll see a good one this time," asserted Patsy, "for we are the
stars."
"I think that unscrupulous Mr. Werner deserves a reprimand," said Louise.
"Oh, he apologized," explained Beth. "But I'm sure he'd take the same
liberty again if he had the chance."
"He admits that his love of art destroys his sense of propriety,"
said Patsy.
As they rose from the table Arthur deliberately turned to view the party
in the other corner, and then to the amazement of his friends he coolly
walked over and shook the elder lady's hand with evident pleasure. Next
moment he was being introduced to the two girls. The three cousins and
their Uncle John walked out of the dining hall and awaited Arthur Weldon
in the lobby.
"It is some old acquaintance, of course," said Louise. "Arthur knows a
tremendous lot of people and remembers everyone he ever has met."
When he rejoined them he brought the lady and the two beautiful girls
with him, introducing Mrs. Montrose as one of his former acquaintances in
New York, where she had been a near neighbor to the Weldons. The girls,
who proved to be her nieces instead of her daughters, were named Maud and
Florence Stanton, Maud being about eighteen years of age and Florence
perhaps fifteen. Maud's beauty was striking, as proved by Patsy's
admiration at first sight; Florence was smaller and darker, yet very
dainty and witching, like a Dresden shepherdess.
The sisters proved rather shy at this first meeting, being content to
exchange smiles with the other girls, but their aunt was an easy
conversationalist and rambled on about the delights of Hollywood and
southern California until they were all in a friendly mood. Among other
things Mrs. Montrose volunteered the statement that they had been at the
hotel for several weeks, but aside from that remark disclosed little of
their personal affairs. Presently the three left the hotel and drove
away in an automobile, having expressed a wish to meet their new friends
again and become better acquainted with them.
"I was almost startled at running across Mrs. Montrose out here," said
Arthur. "After father's death, when I gave up the old home, I lost track
of the Montroses; but I seem to remember that old Montrose went to the
happy hunting grounds and left a widow, but no children. I imagine these
people are wealthy, as Montrose was considered a successful banker. I'll
write to Duggins and inquire about them."
"Duggins seems to know everything," remarked Louise.
"He keeps pretty good track of New York people, especially of the old
families," replied her husband.
"I can't see what their history matters to us," observed Patsy. "I like
to take folks as I find them, without regard to their antecedents or
finances. Certainly those Stanton girls are wonderfully attractive and
ladylike."
But now the baby claimed their attention and the rest of that day was
passed in "visiting" and cuddling the wee Toodlums, who seemed to know
her girl aunties and greeted them with friendly coos and dimpled smiles.
On Sunday they took a motor trip through the mountain boulevards and on
their way home passed the extensive enclosure of the Continental Film
Company. A thriving village has been built up at this place, known as
Film City, for many of those employed by the firm prefer to live close to
their work. Another large "plant" of the same concern is located in the
heart of Hollywood.
As they passed through Film City Uncle John remarked:
"We are invited to visit this place and witness the making of a motion
picture. I believe it would prove an interesting sight."
"Let us go, by all means," replied Arthur. "I am greatly interested in
this new industry, which seems to me to be still in its infancy. The
development of the moving picture is bound to lead to some remarkable
things in the future, I firmly believe."
"So do I," said Uncle John. "They'll combine the phonograph with the
pictures, for one thing, so that the players, instead of being silent,
will speak as clearly as in real life. Then we'll have the grand operas,
by all the most famous singers, elaborately staged; and we'll be able to
see and hear them for ten cents, instead of ten dollars. It will be the
same with the plays of the greatest actors."
"That would open up a curious complication," asserted Louise. "The operas
would only be given once, before the camera and the recorder. Then what
would happen to all the high-priced opera singers?"
"They would draw royalties on all their productions, instead of
salaries," replied Arthur.
"Rather easy for the great artists!" observed Patsy. "One
performance--and the money rolling in for all time to come."
"Well, they deserve it," declared Beth. "And think of what the public
would gain! Instead of having to suffer during the performances of
incompetent actors and singers, as we do to-day, the whole world would be
able to see and hear the best talent of the ages for an insignificant
fee. I hope your prediction will come true, Uncle John."
"It's bound to," he replied, with confidence. "I've read somewhere that
Edison and others have been working on these lines for years, and
although they haven't succeeded yet, anything possible in mechanics is
bound to be produced in time."