round and see me some time."

"All right, Jeff. Of course I'm pretty busy. When I ain't working I've
got to think about my art."

"No, this is on the level. Listen, now, sister, I got another two reeler
to pull off after this one, then I'm goin' to do something new, see? Got
a big idea. Probably something for you in it. Drop in t' the office and
talk it over. Come in some time next week. 'F I ain't there I'll be on
the lot some place. Don't forget, now."

Merton Gill, some distance from the Buckeye set, waited to note what
direction the Montague girl would take. She broke away presently,
glanced brazenly in his direction, and tripped lightly out the nearest
exit. He went swiftly to one at the far end of the building, and was
again in the exciting street. But the afternoon was drawing in and the
street had lost much of its vivacity. It would surely be too late for
any glimpse of his heroine. And his mind was already cluttered with
impressions from his day's adventure. He went out through the office,
meaning to thank the casting director for the great favour she had shown
him, but she was gone. He hoped the headache had not driven her home.
If she were to suffer again he hoped it would be some morning. He would
have the Eezo wafers in one pocket and a menthol pencil in the other.
And she would again extend to him the freedom of that wonderful city.

In his room that night he tried to smooth out the jumble in his dazed
mind. Those people seemed to say so many things they considered funny
but that were not really funny to any one else. And moving-picture plays
were always waiting for something, with the bored actors lounging about
in idle apathy. Still in his ears sounded the drone of the sawmill and
the deep purr of the lights when they were put on. That was a funny
thing. When they wanted the lights on they said "Kick it," and when they
wanted the lights off they said "Save it!" And why did a boy come out
after every scene and hold up a placard with numbers on it before the
camera? That placard had never shown in any picture he had seen. And
that queer Montague girl, always turning up when you thought you had
got rid of her. Still, she had thrown that knife pretty well. You had to
give her credit for that. But she couldn't be much of an actress, even
if she had spoken of acting with Miss Baxter, of climbing down cables
with her and falling off cliffs. Probably she was boasting, because he
had never seen any one but Mis