e hall, and accordin' to his tell them must have
been lively days.

"Although I can't say," he adds, "that at all times I enjoyed being
pulled out of bed at 2 A.M. to act as judge of an ethical debate between
a fuddled cab-driver and a star halfback who had been celebrating a
football victory. I fear I considered Bob's sense of humor somewhat
overdeveloped. Just like him, running off like this. I trust the affair
is not going to be made too unconventional."

I winks at Vee.

"Only an open-air performance," says I, "with maybe a little cheerin'
music to liven things up. His instructions are to have it merry."

"Ah, yes!" says the Reverend Percy. "Quite so. I understand."

If he did he was a better guesser than me. For I was more or less at
sea. We hadn't more than whirled in through the stone gate-posts of
Harbor Hill, too, than I begun to scent complications. For there, lined
up in front of the house, are four other machines, with a whole mob of
people around 'em.

"Why!" says Vee. "Who can they be?"

"Looks like someone had beaten us to it," says I. "I'll go do some
scoutin'."

Course, one close-up look is all that's needed. It's a movie outfit. I'm
just gettin' hot under the collar, too, when I discovers that the gent
in charge is none other than my old newspaper friend, Whitey Weeks. I'd
heard how he'd gone into the film game as stage director, but I hadn't
seen him at it yet. And here he is, big as life, wearin' a suit of noisy
plaids as usual, and bossin' this assorted bunch of screen favorites
like he'd done it all his life.

"A little lively with those grease-paints now, ladies," he's callin'
out. "This isn't for a next spring release, you know."

"Huh!" says I, strollin' up. "Got the same old nerve with you, eh,
Whitey?"

"Well, well!" says he. "The illustrious and illuminating Torchy! Don't
tell me you've just bought the estate?"

"Would it matter to you who owned it," says I, "if you wanted to use it
bad?"

"Such cruel suspicions!" says he. "Sir, my permit!"

He's got it, straight enough--a note to the lodge-keeper, signed by Mrs.
Vernon Markley, and statin' that the Unexcelled Film Company was to
have the courtesy of the grounds any afternoon between the 15th and
25th.

"You see," explains Whitey, "we're staging an old English costume piece,
and this Greek theater of Mrs. Markley's just fits in. Our president
worked the deal for us. And we've got to do a thousand feet between now
and five