It was a lovely place, I thought. The Black-eyed Susans were all a-bloom, and everywhere was green grass although it was nearly midsummer. We spent almost a week working on “The Adventures,” for the mechanical scenes took time, and--joy!--between us we were making ten dollars a day as long as the picture lasted. And then who could tell! * * * * * “If the photography is there, the picture will be all right; if it looks as good on the negative as it looked while we were taking it, it ought to get by,” opined the director. From out of the secrecy of the dark room came Arthur Marvin, nonchalantly swinging a short strip of film. “How is it?” “Looks pretty good, nice and sharp.” “Think it’s all right?” “Yeh, think it is.” Hopeful hours interspersed with anxious moments crowded the succeeding days. By the time the picture was developed, printed, and titled, we were well-nigh emotionally exhausted. What would they say upstairs? What _would_ they say? * * * * * In the darkened little projection room they sat. On the screen was being shown “The Adventures of Dolly.” No sound but the buzz and whir of the projection machine. The seven hundred and thirteen feet of the “Adventures” were reeled off. Silence. Then Mr. Marvin spoke: “That’s it--that’s something like it--at last!” Afterwards, upstairs in the executive offices, Mr. Marvin and Mr. Dougherty talked it over, and they concluded that if the next picture were half as good, Lawrence Griffith was the man they wanted. The next picture really turned out better. The world’s première of “The Adventures of Dolly” was held at Keith and Proctor’s Theatre, Union Square, July 14, 1908. What a day it was at the studio! However did we work, thinking of what the night held. But as the longest day ends, so did this one. No time to get home and pretty-up for the party. With what meager facilities the porcelain basin and make-up shelf in the dressing-room offered, we managed; rubbed off the grease paint and slapped on some powder; gave the hair a pat and a twist; at Silsbee’s on Sixth Avenue and Fourteenth Street, we picked up nourishment; and then we beat it to Union Square. A world’s première indeed--a tremendously important night to so many people who didn’t know it. No taxis--not one private car drew up at the curb. The house filled up from passers-by--frequenters of Union Square--lured by a ten-cent entertainment. These were the people to be pleased--they who had paid out their little nickels and dimes. So when they sat through Dolly’s seven hundred feet, interested, and not a snore was to be heard, we concluded we’d had a successful opening night.