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Updated: June 4, 2025
She possessed a little talking machine with sentimental records, and on Sundays she went to a cafeteria for a good, hearty meal unless cousins asked her to their establishment.
"You've got a swell boardin' house," commented Nora Noon, the one Irish girl in the new patrol, "and I heard some one say Mrs. Cosgrove was going to start a big lunch-counter for us girls. They call it a cafeteria. Can you picture little Nora sittin' up against anything like that for her corned beef and cabbage!" and the joke epidemic went the usual rounds.
To-day the aroma of cooked food occasionally wafted from the cafeteria door would prove, he was sure, to be more than he could bear. He rather shunned the stages to-day, keeping more to himself. The collar, he had to confess, was no longer, even to the casual eye, what a successful screen-actor's collar should be.
All about him were the strongly marked faces of the film people, heavy with makeup, interspersed with hungry civilians, who might be producers, directors, camera men, or mere artisans, for the democracy of the cafeteria seemed ideal. At the table ahead of his he recognized the man who had been annoyed one day by the silly question of the Montague girl.
If you were discerning you would detect that a complex machinery was at work which had nearly escaped you because of its smooth operation. That genial spirit which infects the whole place and those subtle things which appeal to your eye and palate explain the success of the cafeteria.
Even to Merton Gill she seemed very much a child once she stepped from the domain of her trade. She would stare into shop windows wonderingly, and never failed to evince the most childish delight when they ventured to dine at an establishment other than a cafeteria.
On the steps outside the rebuffed Merton Gill glanced at his own natty wrist-watch, bought with some of the later wages of his shame. It was the luncheon hour; mechanically he made his way to the cafeteria. He had ceased to rehearse the speech a doughtier Baird would now have been hearing. Instead he roughly drafted one that Sarah Nevada Montague could not long evade.
When he looked again, they were all up on it, and Mitzi was showing the court what she had in her shoulder bag. He got up, with Mamma and Baby, and crossed to where Leslie Coombes was sitting. By this time, somebody was bringing in a coffee urn from the cafeteria. Fuzzies ought to happen oftener in court. The gavel tapped slowly. Little Fuzzy scrambled up onto Jack Holloway's lap.
The membership of the society had increased to 750. The business for the year had been $190,000 and the net earnings were $12,000. The cafeteria now employs sixty-eight workers, most of whom are shareholders and vote as such in membership meetings. The worker receives the same food as the patrons, served at the same counter.
It was toward the end of the picture that his intimacy with the Montague girl grew to a point where, returning from location to the studio late, they would dine together. "Hurry and get ungreased, Son," she would say, "and you can take an actress out to dinner." Sometimes they would patronize the cafeteria on the lot, but oftener, in a spirit of adventure, they would search out exotic restaurants.
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