e cold snow on her cheeks.

"What's the matter with you girls in there?" called Mr. DeVere from his
apartment. "You seem merry enough."

"We are," answered Alice. "I've washed Ruth's face, and I'm going to
wash yours in a minute."

"Just as you like," he laughed. And then he sighed, for he recalled a
time when his girlish wife had once challenged him the same way, when
they were on their honeymoon. For Mrs. DeVere had been vivacious like
Alice, and the younger daughter was a constant reminder to her father of
his dead wife--a happy and yet a sad reminder.

Alice came rushing in with more snow, and there was a merry little scene
before breakfast. Then Mr. DeVere hurried to the film studio, for he was
to take part in several dramas that day.

"I know I'll be late," he said, "for the travel will be slow this
morning, on account of the snow. And I have to go part way by surface
car, as I have an errand on the way down town."

"We're coming down, also," Ruth informed him.

"Why, you're not in anything to-day," he remarked, pausing in the act of
putting on his overcoat. "You're not cast for anything until 'The Price
of Honor,' to-morrow."

"But we're going down, just the same," Alice laughed. "We want to see
some of the funny films."

"Come ahead then," invited Mr. DeVere. "Better use the subway all you
can. Even the elevated will have trouble with all this sleet. Good-bye,"
and he kissed them as he hurried out.

The girls made short shrift of the housework, and then left for the
place where the moving pictures were made.

As I have described in the first book of this series how moving pictures
are taken, I will not repeat it here, except to say that in a special
camera, made for the purpose, there is a long narrow strip of celluloid
film, of the same nature as in the ordinary camera. The pictures are
taken on this strip, at the rate of sixteen a second. Later this film is
developed, and from that "negative" a "positive" is made. This
"positive" is then run through a specially made projecting lantern which
magnifies the pictures for the screen.

As Alice and Ruth got out at the floor where most of the scenes were
made they heard laughter.

"Something's going on," remarked the younger girl.

"And it doesn't sound like Mr. Sneed, our cheerful 'grouch,' either,"
answered Ruth.

As they went in they saw Carl Switzer, the German comedian, climbing a
high step-ladder with a pail of paste in one hand, and a roll o