ing an omelet in a silk
hat, and have other troubles when he tried to take rabbits out of parlor
vases, and such like nonsense.

This was one of the trick films--that is, it was not a straight piece of
work. It depended for its success on the manipulation of the camera, on
substituting dummies for real persons or animals at certain points, the
interposition of films and many other things too technical to put into a
book that is only intended to amuse you.

"How are you?" asked Miss Pennington, as Ruth and Alice came over to
their side of the studio. "You are looking quite well."

"And we are well," answered Alice. "We want to see you act," for the
filming had not yet begun.

"For instruction or amusement?" asked Miss Dixon, and her voice had
something of a sneer in it. She and her chum were not on the most
friendly terms with Ruth and Alice.

"Both amusement and instruction," responded Alice, sweetly--in a doubly
sweet voice under the circumstances. "One can learn from anyone, you
know," and she pretended to be interested in one of the tricks Paul was
practicing while getting ready for the camera.

Alice could say things with a double meaning at times, and probably this
was one of them.

"Oh!" was all Miss Dixon said, and then she called: "Paul, come here;
won't you? I want you to fasten my glove."

"Certainly," he agreed, with a look at Alice which was meant to say: "I
don't want to do this, but I can't very well get out of it."

Paul, I might add, had been quite interested in Miss Dixon before the
advent of Alice, and the vaudeville actress rather resented the change.
She took advantage of every opportunity to make Paul fetch and carry for
her as he had been wont to do.

The parlor magic play was successfully filmed and then, as Alice and
Ruth had some shopping to do, to get their costumes ready for their
appearance before the camera next day, they prepared to leave. They
stopped for a moment, however, to watch their father in his play--"A
Heart's Cavalier." This was rather a pretentious drama, and called for
really good acting, the nature of which appealed to the veteran player.

It was really a delight to watch him, for he gave a finished
performance, and the loss of his voice was no handicap here. He could
whisper the words, or utter them in a low tone, so that the motion of
his lips might be seen by the audience.

If you have ever seen motion pictures, and I am sure you all have, you
know that often