t, too. Don't you, Jeff?"

"Well--" Baird considered. "If his work keeps up I'm not getting any the
worst of it."

"You said it. You know very well what birds will be looking for this boy
next week, and what money they'll have in their mitts.

"Maybe," said Baird.

"Well, you got the best of it, and you deserve to have. I ain't ever
denied that, have I? You've earned the best of it the way you've handled
him. All I'm here for, I didn't want you to have too much the best of
it, see? I think I treated you well."

"You're all right, Flips." "Well, everything's jake, then?"

"Everything's jake with me."

"All right! And about his work keeping up--trust your old friend and
well-wisher. And say, Jeff--" Her eyes gleamed reminiscently. "You ain't
caught him dancing yet. Well--wait, that's all. We'll put on a fox-trot
in the next picture that will sure hog the footage."

As this dialogue progressed, Merton had felt more and more like a child
in the presence of grave and knowing elders. They had seemed to forget
him, to forget that the amazing contract just signed bore his name.
He thought the Montague girl was taking a great deal upon herself. Her
face, he noted, when she had stated terms to Baird, was the face she
wore when risking a small bet at poker on a high hand. She seemed old,
indeed. But he knew how he was going to make her feel younger. In his
pocket was a gift of rare beauty, even if you couldn't run railway
trains by it. And pretty things made a child of her.

Baird shook hands with him warmly at parting. "It'll be a week yet
before we start on the new piece. Have a good time. Oh, yes, and drop
around some time next week if there's any little thing you want to talk
over--or maybe you don't understand."

He wondered if this were a veiled reference to the piece about to be
shown. Certainly nothing more definite was said about it. Yet it was a
thing that must be of momentous interest to the manager, and the manager
must know that it would be thrilling to the actor.

He left with the Montague girl, who had become suddenly grave and quiet.
But outside the Holden lot, with one of those quick transitions he
had so often remarked in her, she brightened with a desperate sort of
gaiety.

"I'll tell you what!" she exclaimed. "Let's go straight down town--it'll
be six by the time we get there--and have the best dinner money can buy:
lobster and chicken and vanilla ice-cream and everything, right in a
real restaur