us caricatures of worth-while screen art. It would not be fair.
And perhaps here was a quick way to discharge his debt and be free of
obligation to the girl. Of course he would always feel a warm gratitude
for her trusting kindness, but when he no longer owed her money he could
choose his own line of work. Rather bondage to some Hollywood Gashwiler
than clowning in Baird's infamies!

"Well, I'll try anything he gives me," he said at last, striving for the
enthusiasm he could not feel.

"You'll go big, too," said the girl. "Believe, me Kid, you'll go grand."

In Baird's offices he sat at the desk and excitedly undid the package
of stills. "We'll give 'em the once-over before he comes," she said,
and was presently exclaiming with delight at the art study of Clifford
Armytage in evening dress, two straight fingers pressing the left
temple, the face in three-quarter view.

"Well, now, if that ain't Harold Parmalee to the life! If it wasn't for
that Clifford Armytage signed under it, you'd had me guessing. I knew
yesterday you looked like him, but I didn't dream it would be as much
like him as this picture is. Say, we won't show Baird this at first.
We'll let him size you up and see if your face don't remind him of
Parmalee right away. Then we'll show him this and it'll be a cinch. And
my, look at these others--here you're a soldier, and here you're a-a-a
polo player--that is polo, ain't it, or is it tennis? And will you
look at these stunning Westerns! These are simply the best of all--on
horseback, and throwing a rope, and the fighting face with the gun
drawn, and rolling a cigarette--and, as I live, saying good-by to the
horse. Wouldn't that get you--Buck Benson to the life!"

Again and again she shuffled over the stills, dwelling on each with
excited admiration. Her excitement was pronounced. It seemed to be a
sort of nervous excitement. It had caused her face to flush deeply,
and her manner, especially over the Western pictures, at moments oddly
approached hysteria. Merton was deeply gratified. He had expected the
art studies to produce no such impression as this. The Countess in
the casting office had certainly manifested nothing like hysteria at
beholding them. It must be that the Montague girl was a better judge of
art studies.

"I always liked this one, after the Westerns," he observed, indicating
the Harold Parmalee pose.

"It's stunning," agreed the girl, still with her nervous manner. "I tell
you, sit ove