s Baxter do these things in her pictures.
Probably she had some very minor part. Anyway, it was certain she
couldn't be much of an actress because she had almost promised to act
in those terrible Buckeye comedies. And of course no one with any real
ambition or capacity could consider such a thing--descending to rough
horse-play for the amusement of the coarser element among screen
patrons.

But there was one impression from the day's whirl that remained clear
and radiant: He had looked at the veritable face of his heroine. He
began his letter to Tessie Kearns. "At last I have seen Miss Baxter face
to face. There was no doubt about its being her. You would have known
her at once. And how beautiful she is! She was looking up and seemed
inspired, probably thinking about her part. She reminded me of that
beautiful picture of St. Cecelia playing on the piano...."

CHAPTER VI. UNDER THE GLASS TOPS

He approached the office of the Holden studios the following morning
with a new air of assurance. Formerly the mere approach had been
an adventure; the look through the gate, the quick glimpse of the
privileged ones who entered, the mingling, later, with the hopeful and
the near-hopeless ones who waited. But now his feeling was that he had,
somehow, become a part of that higher life beyond the gate. He might
linger outside at odd moments, but rightfully he belonged inside. His
novitiate had passed. He was one of those who threw knives or battled
at the sawmill with the persecuter of golden-haired innocence, or lured
beautiful women from their homes. He might be taken, he thought, for an
actor resting between pictures.

At the gate he suffered a momentary regret at an error of tactics
committed the evening before. Instead of leaving the lot by the office
he should have left by the gate. He should have strolled to this exit in
a leisurely manner and stopped, just inside the barrier, for a chat with
the watchman; a chat, beginning with the gift of a cigar, which should
have impressed his appearance upon that person. He should have remarked
casually that he had had a hard day on Stage Number Four, and must now
be off to a good night's rest because of the equally hard day to-morrow.
Thus he could now have approached the gate with confidence and passed
freely in, with a few more pleasant words to the watchman who would have
no difficulty in recalling him.

But it was vain to wish this. For all the watchman knew this young ma