But reclining in the arms of “Brucie,” purring “Brucie, do you still love me?”--that was the perfect picture of the fair Lillian those days. And Brucie’s reply came in honeyed words, “Oh, you sweet, little innocent golden-haired darling.” Then turning to the girl sitting next her on the other side, she’d say, “You know this girl needs to be protected from the world, she’s so innocent and so young.” She had a strong maternal complex, had the maidenly Kate Bruce. [Illustration: Blanche Sweet and Kate Bruce in “Judith of Bethulia,” the first four reel picture directed by D. W. Griffith. (_See p. 224_) ] In need of a gown for a picture at this time (the Biograph was just beginning to spend a little money on clothes for the women), Miss Gish spied Louise Orth one day wearing just the very thing her little heart craved. [Illustration: Lillian Russell and Gaston Bell, in a scene illustrative of her beauty lectures, taken in Kinemacolor. These lectures were a headline act in vaudeville. (_See p. 247_) ] [Illustration: Sarah Bernhardt, the first “Famous Player,” as Jeanne Doré, and little Jacques. (_See p. 105_) ] “Oh, what a lovely gown you have on. Where did you buy that?” Madame Frances then had a tiny shop on Seventh Avenue, near the Palace Theatre: Polly Heyman had Bon Marché gloves on one side and Frances had gowns on the other. Frances had just made some thousands of dollars’ worth of gowns for Valeska Surratt’s show, “The Red Rose,” which were so beautiful they won Mme. Frances prestige and recognition from Al Woods. Miss Orth had been a member of the Eltinge show for which Mme. Frances had made the dresses, which is the long story of how Lillian Gish got her first Frances gown. The K. & E. pictures were going to be “dressed up,” and we were being allowed about seventy-five dollars for gowns. Miss Gish’s selection at Mme. Frances’s was price-tagged eighty-five dollars; so back to the studio flew Miss Gish. With as much pep as she had, which wasn’t so much, she slunk up to her director and coaxingly said: “Mr. Griffith, I must have that dress, it’s just beautiful; it’s just what I must have for the part, and it costs eighty-five dollars.” “Who in the world ever heard of eighty-five dollars for a dress?” “I don’t care--now--I’ve _got_ to have it.” “Don’t bother me--it’s too expensive--we cannot afford it.” Then growing bolder, as she followed him about she reached for his coat-tail, and twisting it and shaking it she implored: “Oh, please, Mr. Griffith, buy me that dress.” “Will you get away?” “Well, I won’t play in the picture if you don’t get me that dress--I’ve _got_ to have it.” “All right, for heaven’s sake, get the dress--but don’t bother me.” Lillian got the dress.