Page:Minnie Flynn (1925).pdf/150

 precious. Only so many places to be filled, twice as many people to fill them.

As the elevator slowly climbed upwards a child's scream startled them; someone had stepped on her foot. They strained to back away from the mother and the crying youngster. One man leaned down and lifted her to his shoulder but her screams only mounted higher. The elevator came to a standstill and they swarmed out of it. The man abruptly set the child down and edged his way into the long queue that stretched from the barred window of the casting director's office.

Minnie fell into line, the mother and child in hack of her. Jerking the child's arm, the mother whispered threats of punishment.

"Look at your face all swollen, you bad girl," Minnie heard her say, "you've spoiled yourself. You won't get any gumdrops today just for that. Shame on you, making such a fuss about nothing at all."

"He hurted me."

"Stop that crying, do you hear me?"

"Not crying," in a wee, small voice.

"Then put your hands down. Look at you. You've mussed your hair. You're a bad, bad girl I tell you."

The stifled sobs became hiccoughs which wrenched her tiny body but she smiled mechanically when she saw Minnie looking down at her.

"Powder, mama?" she asked when she saw her mother's hand searching through the huge misshapen bag she carried over her arm. The mother didn't answer but under the screen of Minnie's back she drew a powder puff over the child's face, then applied a little rouge to each cheek. She brushed the little tight curls, pale and brittle with too many applications of peroxide.