fternoon I seen Duke standin' near the African Desert. He
was callin' upon Heaven in a voice that could be heard plainly in Cape
May, N. J., to ask it if it had ever seen a actor like J. Harold
Cuthbert. Not gettin' no answer, he turned his attention to the other
place, and when he seen me he put it up to me.

"What's the matter with Harold?" I asks him. "I thought he was gonna
be a knockout in this Shakespeare stuff."

"He was!" says Duke. "The camera men are laughin' yet! Alongside of
that big four-flusher, Kid Scanlan would look like Richard Mansfield!"

"He's rotten, eh?" I says.

"Rotten?" yells Duke. "Why, say--callin' him _rotten_ is givin' him a
_boost_! If that big stiff is an actor, I'm mayor of Shantung! He
don't know if grease paint is to put on your face or to seal letters
with, he's got the same faculty of expression on that soft putty map of
his as an ox has, he makes love like a wax dummy and he come out to
play 'As You Like It' in a dress suit! It took eight supers to keep
him away from in front of the camera, and he played one scene with his
face glued up against the lens!"

Just then Harold himself eases into view with the Kid taggin' along at
his side. Scanlan is excited about somethin' and wavin' his arms, but
Harold still has that old sneer on his face, and as they come up, I
hear him sayin' this,

"My dear fellow, I know more about auction pinochle than Hoyle. At
home I am recognized as the champion card player of--" He breaks off,
when he sees us, and turns to Duke. "Hello!" he calls over. "Are you
ready to admit now that my idea of making feature productions is the
right one?"

"No!" snarls Duke. "But I'll concede that as an actor you're a
crackerjack bartender! D'ye mean to tell me that you got away with
that kind of stuff in the studios back East?"

"I introduced it!" says Harold, proudly. "As a director for some of
the largest film companies in the world, I have put on hundreds of--"

"The only thing you ever put on was your hat!" interrupts Duke. "And I
bet that give you trouble on account of the size of your head. I
suppose you're gonna tell me that you're also a scenario writer, a
camera man and the guy that got Nero's permission to film the burnin'
of Rome, eh?"

"The last is something of an exaggeration," pipes Harold, "but as far
as the other things you mentioned are concerned, I must confess that
there are few people in the business who have approached me