ueried Helen, selecting one gingerly and putting it
into her mouth.

"Oh! Aunt Alvirah makes the loveliest pies of them--with huckleberries,
you know. Half and half."

"Where'll you find huckleberries this time of year?" scoffed Tom. "On the
bushes too?"

"In glass jars down cellar, sir," replied Ruth, smartly. "I did help pick
those and put them up last summer, in spite of all the running around we
did."

"Beg pardon, Miss Fielding," said Tom. "Go on. Tell us some more recipes.
Makes my mouth water."

"O-o-oh! so will these barberries!" exclaimed Helen, making a wry face.
"Just taste one, Tommy."

"Many, many thanks! _Good_-night!" ejaculated her brother, "I know
better. But those barberries properly prepared with sugar make a mighty
nice drink in summer. Our Babette makes barberry syrup, you know."

"Ugh! It doesn't taste like these," complained his sister. "Oh, folks!
there are those foolish actors again."

"_Now_ what are they about?" demanded Ruth.

"Look out that you don't bring the car into the focus of the camera, Tom,"
his sister warned him. "It will make them awfully mad."

"Don't fret. I have no desire to appear in a movie," laughed Tom.

"But I think _I_ would like to," said his sister. "Wouldn't you, Ruth?"

"I--I don't know. It must be awfully interesting----"

"Pooh!" scoffed Tom. "What will you girls get into your heads next? And
they don't let girls like you play in movies, anyway."

"Oh, yes, they do!" cried his sister. "Some of the greatest stars in the
film firmament are nothing more than schoolgirls. They have what they call
'film charm.'"

"Think you've got any of that commodity?" demanded Tom, with cheerful
impudence.

"I don't know----Oh, Ruth, look at that girl! Now, Tommy, see there! That
girl isn't a day older than we."

"Too far away to make sure," said Tom, slowly. Then, the next moment, he
ejaculated: "What under the sun is she doing? Why! she'll fall off that
tree-trunk, the silly thing!"

The slender girl who had attracted their attention had, at the command of
the director of the picture, scrambled up a leaning sycamore tree which
overhung the stream at a sharp angle. The girl swayed upon the bare trunk,
balancing herself prettily, and glanced back over her shoulder.

Tom had brought the car to a stop. When the engine was shut off they could
hear the director's commands:

"That's it, Hazel. Keep that pose. Got your focus, Carroll?" he called to
the camera man. "