ould tell where he hid it."

The sheriff and his man then went about the farm, posting several
notices of the sale on the different buildings. This gave Russ an
idea, and he suggested it to Mr. Pertell.

"Why not make a film of this," said the young operator. "Old
couple--going to be turned off their farm--foreclosure of
mortgage--posting the notices--the cruel creditor--the sheriff and
all that. We could make up a good play."

"So we could!" cried the manager. "A good idea, and I'll pay Mr. and
Mrs. Apgar for posing for us. It'll give 'em a little extra money."

At first the aged couple would not hear of posing before the camera,
but Sandy explained matters to them, and told them they could easily
do it. Mr. Pertell promised to pay well, and this finally won them
over. The sheriff and his deputy good-naturedly agreed to do their
tacking up of the notices in front of the camera, and so an
unexpected film was obtained. It is often that way in making moving
pictures. The least germ of an idea often leads to a good play.

The other scenes in "The Loss of the Farm," as the play was to be
called, would be made later. For the present it was necessary to go
on with the scenes of the drama, part of which had been laid in the
wheat field.

Russ put some fresh film in his camera and was ready for Ruth and
Alice, who had some pretty little scenes together.

The day was hot, the work was exacting, and when it was over everyone
was ready to rest. Russ was perhaps busier than any, for he had to
prepare the films to be sent in light-tight boxes to New York for
development, arrangement, and printing.

"Let's go off to the woods," suggested Alice to her sister, when they
had changed their costumes for walking dresses of cool brown, with
white waists. "I declare I just want to get under a tree and lie down
on the soft green moss."

"So do I, dear. We'll go up to that little dell which is so
pretty--the one where we got the lovely flowers. It is so restful
there."

Together the sisters set off, walking slowly, for the air was sultry.

"Don't you want to come, Daddy?" called Ruth to her father, who was
sitting on the farmhouse porch.

"No, thank you," he answered. "I have some letters to write."

His voice had grown somewhat stronger under the influence of the
pure, country air, and from the fact that he used it very little. But
still it was not clear enough to enable him to go back into
legitimate theatrical work. And, tr