e as to floor and walls, but
was bleak and inhospitable in its general effect. The wooden seat was
uncomfortable, and those who sat upon it along the dull-toned walls
appeared depressed and unhopeful, especially after they had braved a
talk through the little window with someone who seemed always to
be saying, "No, nothing to-day. Yes, perhaps next week. I have your
address." When the aspirants were women, as they mostly were, the
someone back of the window would add "dear" to the speech: "No, nothing
to-day, dear."

There seemed never to be anything to-day, and Clifford Armytage spent
very little of his waiting time in this room. It made him uncomfortable
to be stared at by other applicants, whether they stared casually,
incuriously, or whether they seemed to appraise him disparagingly, as if
telling him frankly that for him there would never be anything to-day.

Then he saw that he, too, must undergo that encounter at the little
window. Too apparently he was not getting anywhere by loitering about
outside. It was exciting, but the producers would hardly look there for
new talent.

He chose a moment for this encounter when the waiting room was vacant,
not caring to be stared at when he took this first step in forming a
connection that was to be notable in screen annals. He approached the
window, bent his head, and encountered the gaze of a small, comely woman
with warm brown eyes, neat reddish hair, and a quick manner. The gaze
was shrewd; it seemed to read all that was needed to be known of this
new candidate.

"Yes?" said the woman.

She looked tired and very businesslike, but her manner was not unkind.
The novice was at once reassured. He was presently explaining to her
that he wished to act in the pictures at this particular studio. No,
he had not had much experience; that is, you could hardly call it
experience in actual acting, but he had finished a course of study and
had a diploma from the General Film Production Company of Stebbinsville,
Arkansas, certifying him to be a competent screen actor. And of course
he would not at first expect a big part. He would be glad to take
a small part to begin with--almost any small part until he could
familiarize himself with studio conditions. And here was a bunch of
stills that would give any one an idea of the range of parts he was
prepared to play, society parts in a full-dress suit, or soldier parts
in a trench coat and lieutenant's cap, or juveniles in the natty s