Mr. Griffith rather liked the kids that Mary had brought--they were little and slinky. He liked the elder the better of the two, she was quiet and reserved. Dorothy was too forward. She even dared call the big director “a hook-nosed kike,” disregarding completely his pure Welsh descent. The little Gish sisters looked none too prosperous in mama’s home-made dresses. I’ll say for the stage mamas of the little Biograph girls that they did their bit. Mrs. Smith would sometimes make her child a new dress overnight, and Mary would walk in on a bright morning sporting a new pink frock of Hearn’s best gingham, only to make Gertrude Robinson feel so orphaned, her mama seemingly the only one who had no acquaintance with a needle. Lillian and Dorothy Gish just melted right into the studio atmosphere without causing a ripple. For quite a long time they merely extra-ed in and out of the pictures. Especially Dorothy--Mr. Griffith paid her no attention whatever, and she cried because he wouldn’t, but he wouldn’t, so she just kept on crying and trailed along. But she let out an awful howl when Gertie Bambrick was put on a guaranty and she wasn’t. Their introduction to Biograph had happened the very same day. Lillian didn’t mind so much, as she was still full of stage ambitions. When the company left for California, Lillian went back to the stage as a fairy in “The Good Little Devil” with Mary Pickford. Dorothy paid her own fare to the coast. That was how popular she was just then. It was going to be a “big time” for Gertie Bambrick and Dorothy Gish in Los Angeles, away from home and mothers. They ducked to the Angelus Hotel to be by themselves, and not to be bothered by elders and fuss-budgets. They had an idol they would emulate, and wanted to be alone where they could practice. The idol was Mabel Normand. Could they be like Mabel Normand, well, then they would be satisfied with life. So bright, so merry, so pretty; oh, could they just become like Mabel! Perhaps cigarettes would help. They bought a box. And at a grocery store, they bought--shush--a bottle of gin. Almost they would have swallowed poison if it would have helped them to realize their youthful ambition. But their light had led them only as far as gin, and this they swallowed as a before-dinner cocktail, a whole teaspoonful which they drank right out of the teaspoon. [Illustration: A corner of Biograph’s stylish Bronx studio. A scene from “The Fair Rebel,” with Clara T. Bracy, Linda Griffith, Charles Perley, Dorothy Gish and Charles West. (_See p. 225_) ] Yes, Mabel Normand was the most wonderful girl in the world, the most beautiful, and the best sport. Others have thought of Mabel Normand as these two youngsters did. Daring, reckless, and generous-hearted to a fault, she was like a frisky young colt that would brook no bridle. The quiet and seemingly demure little thing is the one who generally gets away with things.