Starting off suddenly in this wise: "Say, Luck, why don't you have-- ?" and the fires of enthusiasm would flare again in Luck's eyes, and the talk would grow eager.
But--and here was the key to the remarkable interpretation which Luck permitted the Happy Family to give the Bently Brown stories--some time before the evening was too old, Luck would swing the talk around to the work they were doing.

He would pull a Bently Brown scenario from his pocket and read, with much sarcastic comment, the scenes they were later to enact.

He would incite the Happy Family to poking fun at such lurid performances as Bently Brown described in all seriousness and in detail.
He would encourage comment and argument and the play of their caustic imaginations upon the action of the story.

He would gradually make them see the whole thing in the light of a huge joke; he would, without saying much himself, bring the Happy Family into the mood of wanting to make Bently Brown appear ridiculous to all beholders.
Is it any wonder, then, if the camera man and the assistants should exchange puzzled glances when Luck put the Happy Family through their scenes?
Exits and entrances, the essential details of the action, Luck directed painstakingly, as always he had done.

Why, then, said camera man to assistants, should he let those fellows go in and ball up the dramatic business and turn whole scenes into farce with their foolery?
And why had he chosen Tracy Gray Joyce as leading man?
And that eye-rolling, limp sentimentalist, Lenore Honiwell, as his leading woman?
Luck was known to despise these two, personally and professionally.