mountaineer plays with revenooers and feuds; one of
those plays where the city chap don't treat our Nell right--you know.
And they won't stand for the crepe hair, so pop has got to raise a brush
and he's mad. But it ought to give him a month or so, and after that
he may be able to peddle the brush again; you can never tell in this
business, can you, Countess?"

"It's most annoying," the old gentleman explained to the bench
occupants. "In the true art of the speaking stage an artificial beard
was considered above reproach. Nowadays one must descend to mere
physical means if one is to be thought worthy."

CHAPTER V. A BREACH IN THE CITY WALLS

During these weeks of waiting outside the gate the little woman beyond
the window had continued to be friendly but not encouraging to the
aspirant for screen honours late of Simsbury, Illinois. For three weeks
had he waited faithfully, always within call, struggling and sacrificing
to give the public something better and finer, and not once had he so
much as crossed the line that led to his goal.

Then on a Monday morning he found the waiting-room empty and his friend
beyond the window suffering the pangs of headache. "It gets me something
fierce right through here," she confided to him, placing her finger-tips
to her temples.

"Ever use Eezo Pain Wafers?" he demanded in quick sympathy. She looked
at him hopefully.

"Never heard of 'em."

"Let me get you some."

"You dear thing, fly to it!"

He was gone while she reached for her purse, hurrying along the
eucalyptus-lined street of choice home sites to the nearest drug store.
He was fearing someone else might bring the little woman another remedy;
even that her headache might go before he returned with his. But he
found her still suffering.

"Here they are." He was breathless. "You take a couple now and a couple
more in half an hour if the ache hasn't stopped." "Bless your heart!
Come around inside." He was through the door and in the dimly lit little
office behind that secretive partition. "And here's something else," he
continued. "It's a menthol pencil and you take this cap off--see?--and
rub your forehead with it. It'll be a help." She swallowed two of the
magic wafers with the aid of water from the cooler, and applied the
menthol.

"You're a dear," she said, patting his sleeve. "I feel better already.
Sometimes these things come on me and stay all day." She was still
applying the menthol to throbbing temp