The emotions that would sweep over us at times! How our pride was hurt! How lacking in delicacy people could be! With what a patronizing air the successful and prosperous actor-friend would burst into the studio! Mr. Griffith would say, “Well, how about it? If you’re hanging around this summer, how would you like to work with me a bit?” Polite and evasive the reply, “Well, you see, I’m awfully busy just now, have several offers and--well--when I’m signed up I’ll drop around again.” But we, in the know, understood that all the King’s horses and all the King’s men could not induce such to join our little band of movie actors. We were always conscious of the fact that we were in this messy business because everything else had failed--because nobody had seemed to want us, and we just hadn’t been able to hang on any longer. [Illustration: Jeanie Macpherson, Marion Sunshine, Edwin August, Alfred Paget, Blanche Sweet and Charles West in a scene from “From Out the Shadow.” The brilliant social world of early movie days. (_See p. 71_) ] [Illustration: “Murphy’s,” where members of Biograph’s original stock company consumed hearty breakfasts when Jersey bound. (_See p. 83_) ] But David buckled to the job like a true sport. It was _his job_ and he would dignify it. The leaden mornings came to be quite the exception to the rule. Many days were greeted with bright and merry song. And so, firm and unshakeable in our determination to do the most with what we had, we dismissed the silly sensitive business and set to work. What we had to work with was this: a little studio where interior scenes were taken, and exteriors also, for there was little money for traveling expenses--Fort Lee, Greenwich, and the Atlantic Highlands comprised our early geographical horizon. A few actors, a willing and clever camera man, a stage carpenter, and a scenic artist, comprised the working force. Funny studio! Interesting old workshop! “The Last Leaf’s” ballroom! The outer doors of the building opened into a broad hall from which on the left as one entered, a door gave into Mr. Dougherty’s office; on the right was another door--the entrance to the bookkeeping department. An old colonial stairway on this same side led up to the projection room and other offices. The spacious hall of the main floor ended with double doors opening into the studio. There, first to meet the eye--unless one stumbled on it before seeing it--for it completely blocked the entrance--was a heavy rolling platform on which the camera, poised atop of its tripod, was set. So if the studio doors chanced to invite you during the taking of a scene, you would have to remain put in the few feet of space between the platform and the doors until the scene was finished. Usually there would be some one to keep you company in your little niche.