or Los Angeles show it?"

"Certainly. It will be at the Globe Theatre in Los Angeles and at the
Isis Theatre in Hollywood, for the entire week."

"We shall certainly see it," announced Uncle John.

When Mr. Werner had gone they conversed for some time on the subject of
motion pictures, and the man's remarkable statement concerning them.

"I had no idea," Beth confessed, "that the industry of making pictures is
so extensive and involves so much thought and detail."

"And money," added Uncle John. "It must be a great expense just to
employ that army of actors."

"I suppose Mr. Werner, being a theatrical man, has drawn the long bow in
his effort to impress us," said Patsy. "I've been thinking over some of
the pictures I've seen recently and I can't imagine a moral, however
intangible or illusive, in connection with any of them. But perhaps I
wasn't observant enough. The next time I go to a picture show I shall
study the plays more carefully."

CHAPTER III

AN ATTRACTIVE GIRL

On Saturday they were treated to a genuine surprise, for when the omnibus
drew up before the hotel entrance it brought Arthur Weldon and his
girl-wife, Louise, who was Uncle John's eldest niece. It also brought
"the Cherub," a wee dimpled baby hugged closely in the arms of Inez, its
Mexican nurse.

Patsy and Beth shrieked in ecstasy as they rushed forward to smother
"Toodlums," as they irreverently called the Cherub, with kisses. Inez, a
handsome, dark-eyed girl, relinquished her burden cheerfully to the two
adoring "aunties," while Uncle John kissed Louise and warmly shook the
hand of her youthful husband.

"What in the world induced you to abandon your beloved ranch?" inquired
Mr. Merrick.

"Don't ask me, sir!" replied Arthur, laughing at the elder gentleman's
astonishment. He was a trim young fellow, with a clean-cut, manly face
and frank, winning manners.

"It's sort of between hay and grass with us, you know," he explained.
"Walnuts all marketed and oranges not ready for the pickers. All our
neighbors have migrated, this way or that, for their regular winter
vacations, and after you all left, Louise and I began to feel lonely. So
at breakfast this morning we decided to flit. At ten o'clock we caught
the express, and here we are--in time for lunch. I hope it's ready,
Uncle John."

It was; but they must get their rooms and settle the baby in her new
quarters before venturing to enter the dining room. So they were late for