She had
Kedzie's measure taken in order to have a slip made as a model
for use in the hours when Kedzie should be too busy to stand
for fitting.
It was well for Kedzie that there was a free ride waiting for her.
Her journey to the studio was harrowed by the financial problem
which has often tortured people in limousines. She did not like to
ask Mr. Ferriday for money in advance. He might think she was poor.
There is nothing that bankrupts the poor so much as the effort to
look unconcerned while they wait for their next penny.
Kedzie was frantic with worry and was reduced to prayer. "O Lord,
send me some money somehow." The number of such prayers going up
to heaven must cause some embarrassment, since money can usually
be given to one person only by taking it from another--and that
other is doubtless praying for more at the very moment.
To Kedzie's dismay, when she arrived at the studio and asked for
Mr. Ferriday, Mr. Garfinkel appeared. He was very deferential, but
he was, after all, only a Garfinkel and she needed a Ferriday. He
explained that his chief was very busy and had instructed Garfinkel
to teach Miss Adair the science of make-up for the camera, to take
test pictures of her, and give her valuable hints in lens behavior.
Late in the afternoon Ferriday came in to see the result of the
first lesson. He said, "Much obliged, Garfinkel" and Garfinkel
remembered pressing duty elsewhere.
His departure left Kedzie alone with Ferriday in a cavern pitch
black save for the cone of light spreading from the little hole in
the wall at the back to the screen where the spray of light-dust
became living pictures of Kedzie.
Pages:
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230