excessive.

Her father, from the bench, likewise admonished her.

"You are sadly prone to a spirit of banter," he declared, "though I
admit that the so-called art of the motion picture is not to be regarded
too seriously. It was not like that in my day. Then an actor had to be
an artist; there was no position for the little he-doll whippersnapper
who draws the big money to-day and is ignorant of even the rudiments of
the actor's profession."

He allowed his glance to rest perceptibly upon Merton Gill, who felt
uncomfortable.

"We were with Looey James five years," confided Mrs. Montague to her
neighbours. "A hall show, of course--hadn't heard of movies then--doing
Virginius and Julius Caesar and such classics, and then starting out
with The Two Orphans for a short season. We were a knock-out, I'll
say that. I'll never forget the night we opened the new opera house at
Akron. They had to put the orchestra under the stage."

"And the so-called art of the moving picture robs us of our little meed
of applause," broke in her husband. "I shall never forget a remark of
the late Lawrence Barrett to me after a performance of Richelieu in
which he had fairly outdone himself. 'Montague, my lad,' said he 'we may
work for the money, but we play for the applause.' But now our finest
bits must go in silence, or perhaps be interrupted by a so-called
director who arrogates to himself the right to instill into us the
rudiments of a profession in which we had grounded ourselves ere yet
he was out of leading strings. Too often, naturally, the results are
discouraging."

The unabashed girl was meantime having sprightly talk with the casting
director, whom she had hailed through the window as Countess. Merton,
somewhat startled, wondered if the little woman could indeed be of the
nobility.

"Hello, Countess! Say, listen, can you give the camera a little peek at
me to-day, or at pa or ma? 'No, nothing to-day, dear.'" She had imitated
the little woman's voice in her accustomed reply. "Well, I didn't think
there would be. I just thought I'd ask. You ain't mad, are you? I could
have gone on in a harem tank scene over at the Bigart place, but they
wanted me to dress the same as a fish, and a young girl's got to draw
the line somewhere. Besides, I don't like that Hugo over there so much.
He hates to part with anything like money, and he'll gyp you if he can.
Say, I'll bet he couldn't play an honest game of solitaire. How'd you
like my hai