g her hands down to her sides,
telling her of his love for her while she hung her head. As he finished
she lifted her face, smiled, and he clasped her to his breast, looking
up as if he was thanking his Creator for giving her to him.

They held that pose for what John thought was an unnecessarily long
time, and that was all of the first scene. John was happy to note, for a
reason he neglected to define, even to himself, that Consuello seemed
relieved as she drew back from the actor's arms. They rehearsed it a
dozen times before Bonwit and the cameramen decided it could be done no
better and then the cameras clicked.

Next there was a pretty little scene, without much action, in which
Consuello and her "sweetheart" were seated beside each other with a
background of flowers. John deduced that obstacles had evidently risen
to the marriage, as the "conversation" was serious and inclined to be
tearful. During this scene the three-piece orchestra, by this time
coatless and collarless, played the most plaintively sad piece, John
thought, that he had ever heard. The bass viol player's face was almost
funereal as he gazed abstractedly up into the branches of the tree above
him. The scene ended with the actor looking soulfully into the eyes of
his betrothed.

When scene number two had been photographed, "John J. Silence" amazed
John by suddenly shouting "Eats!" and dashing toward the automobiles. A
large wicker hamper was lifted from one of the cars and carried to a
clear space near the cameras. Consuello seated herself in a canvas chair
near John, who sat cross-legged at her feet. They were apart from the
others, who formed a group under another tree. From the hamper "John J.
Silence" brought them two small baskets, covered with snow-white
napkins, containing sandwiches, a piece of pie, a slice of cake, ripe
olives, salted almonds and paper cups, which, at Consuello's suggestion,
John filled with water from the stream.

"I don't blame him," remarked John as they settled down to enjoy the
basket luncheon.

"Who?"

"Gibson," he said.

"For what?"

"For hating that make-believe sweetheart of yours," he answered.

"But he is only--only as you said--make-believe," she said. "He has the
sweetest little wife and two of the darlingest children you ever saw. He
probably is thinking of them while he's holding me in his arms and
pledging undying love. Whenever he has to shed tears he thinks of the
time the baby had pneumonia an