California, Southern -- Fiction; Motion picture industry -- Fiction; Petroleum industry and trade -- Fiction; Political fiction
Had anybody seen them in the moonlight? Or had Vee whispered the secret
to Annabelle? Or was it just the light of happiness radiating from the
eyes of the young couple? Anyhow, it was evident next day that the truth
was out, and there was an atmosphere of festivity about the Monastery.
Nobody went so far as to sprinkle rice on the pair, or to throw old
shoes at them, or tie white ribbons to their cars; but there were
friendly smiles, and sly jests, enough to keep the play spirit alive.
Annabelle, of course, was enraptured; she had planned this from the
beginning, she had picked this young oil prince for her friend from the
day that Verne had told her about him. And Verne—well, you can imagine
that when he started to make jokes on such a subject, nobody was left in
doubt as to what had happened!
Strangely enough, when Bunny got home, he found this spirit of orange
blossoms and white ribbons in some mysterious way communicated to Dad.
Could it be that Verne, the old rascal, had taken the trouble to
telephone the news? Here was Dad, shining with satisfaction, and Bunny
could read his every thought. Dad had met Vee Tracy, and liked her fine.
A motion picture star—by golly, that was something to brag about! That
was the right sort of career for a young oil prince—quite in the
aristocratic tradition! Bunny would have something else in his mind now
but this fool Bolshevik business!
Presently here was Dad trying to drop hints—with about as much tact as
you would expect from a full grown rhinoceros! Had Vee Tracy been up at
the Monastery this time? Say, that was a live wire, that girl! Verne
said she got as high as four thousand a week; and that was no press
agent money either. She had more brains than all the male dolls put
together; she had money salted away, owned lots all over Hollywood.
She’d come to Verne to ask his advice about Ross Consolidated, and he
had told her to go the limit, and by golly, she had brought him a
cashier’s check for fifty thousand dollars, and had got a block of the
stock at the opening price, and now it was worth three times that, and
Vee said that Verne had saved her from six rapings! Then the old
rhinoceros went on and explained what Vee had meant—that she wouldn’t
have to act in six pictures!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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