. Slowly, almost in the manner of
Harold Parmalee, as it seemed to him, she bent down and imprinted a long
kiss upon his lips. He had been somewhat difficult to rehearse in this
scene, but Baird made it all plain. He was still the bashful country
boy, though now he would be awakened by love.

The girl drew him from the gate to her waiting automobile. Here she
overcame a last reluctance and induced him to enter. She followed and
drove rapidly off.

It was only now that Baird let him into the very heart of the drama.

"You see," he told Merton, "you've watched these city folks; you've
wanted city life and fine clothes for yourself; so, in a moment of
weakness, you've gone up to town with this girl to have a look at the
place, and it sort of took hold of you. In fact, you hit up quite a pace
for awhile; but at last you go stale on it--" "The blight of Broadway,"
suggested Merton, wondering if there could be a cabaret scene.

"Exactly," said Baird. "And you get to thinking of the poor old mother
and little sister back here at home, working away to pay off the
mortgage, and you decide to come back. You get back on a stormy night;
lots of snow and wind; you're pretty weak. We'll show you sort of
fainting as you reach the door. You have no overcoat nor hat, and your
city suit is practically ruined. You got a great chance for some good
acting here, especially after you get inside to face the folks. It'll be
the strongest thing you've done, so far."

It was indeed an opportunity for strong acting. He could see that.
He stayed late with Baird and his staff one night and a scene of the
prodigal's return to the door of the little home was shot in a blinding
snow-storm. Baird warmly congratulated the mechanics who contrived the
storm, and was enthusiastic over the acting of the hero. Through the
wintry blast he staggered, half falling, to reach the door where he
collapsed. The light caught the agony on his pale face. He lay a moment,
half-fainting, then reached up a feeble hand to the knob of the door.

It was one of the annoyances incident to screen art that he could not go
in at that moment to finish his great scene. But this must be done back
on the lot, and the scene could not be secured until the next day.

Once more he became the pitiful victim of a great city, crawling back
to the home shelter on a wintry night. It was Christmas eve, he now
learned. He pushed open the door of the little home and staggered in to
face hi