The picture has something of the spirit and character of the _old_ Biograph stock company’s work. And another speaking for an open market said: The best argument that I can offer for an open market is the well-known fact that when Biograph was supreme, a mere sign of “Biograph to-day” would draw the crowd. Yes, folks would rather pay a ten cent admission and be satisfied with only two reels as long as there was a Biograph than to visit the neighbor house with three reels and four vaudeville acts and no Biograph. Everybody knows what a magnet was the word “Biograph.” But other good actors were coming to the front and the loss of the old ones made but a brief and shallow dent in the prestige of Biograph. On a June day in 1912 arrived little Gertrude Bambrick. She came on pretty sister Elsie’s invitation--just to look. Sister Elsie liked the movies, liked it at Biograph, but to get Gertrude down to the place had required considerable coaxing. Gertrude didn’t like the place when she finally got there. “How terrible,” said she; “why, they haven’t even chairs, what an awful place!” She was almost ready to beat it before she had had a good look around. A tall, angular man had noticed the pretty little girl, and he kept passing and repassing before her, giving her a searching look each time. Then, one time, when directly in front of her he made an abrupt stop and a significant beckoning of his right forefinger plainly said, “Youngster, I would speak with thee.” But Gertrude paid no attention to the beckoning finger. She only thought what a funny thing for any one to do. If the man wanted to speak to her, why didn’t he speak? Sister Elsie gave her a poke and whispered to her secretly that it was the “great Griffith” who was beckoning, and when he beckoned the thing to do was to follow. So, somewhat in a daze, Gertrude started off and as she did so the actors and others in the studio cleared a way for her much as they might for a queen. Mr. Griffith led the way into the ladies’ dressing-room, which, when the actresses were out on the stage, was the only place of privacy in the studio. There his eagle eye scrutinized the girl some more. Gertrude now figured, being in the studio and having no business there, she was in for a call-down, and quick on the defensive she let it be known she was only visiting her sister--she didn’t want to work in the pictures--she had a good job as a dancer in vaudeville with Gertrude Hoffman--dancing was what she loved most of all, and, well---- “Well, who are _you_?” asked Gertrude. “I’m the director down here, I’m Mr. Griffith.” As far as Gertrude was concerned, Mr. Griffith was entirely without honor even in a picture studio. “So you dance,” said he, “and you don’t want to work in pictures. Well, come down to-morrow anyhow, I want to make a test of you. And I am going over to-night to see your show.”