The scenes went off very well, especially the dancing ones, but the
"city folks," as the farmer lads and lassies spoke of the members of
the theatrical company, were at rather a disadvantage when it came to
doing some of the old-fashioned dances. They had not practiced them
in years, particularly Miss Dixon and Miss Pennington.

"The idea of doing the old waltz and two-step," complained Miss
Pennington. "It's like running a race."

"Indeed it is, my dear," agreed her chum. "Why can't he let us do the
Boston Dip, at least; or the one-step glide. I hate the continuous
waltz."

"So do I. Let's try it, when you and I dance together."

"We will!"

But Mr. Pertell, who was overseeing the carrying out of the barn
dance, at once cried sharply:

"Hold on there with that camera, Russ! That won't do, Miss
Pennington--Miss Dixon. We don't want the new dances here. Not that
there is anything the matter with them," he hastened to add, as he
saw the defiant looks on the faces of the two former vaudeville
players; "but this is supposed to be an old-fashioned country dance,
of the style of about twenty-five years ago, and it would look queer
in the films to see the dip and one-step introduced.

"Now do that part over, and keep on with the Virginia Reel. Go ahead,
Russ. And everybody get a little more life into this thing. Be
lively! Hop about more! Shout and sing if you want to--it won't hurt
the film. Go ahead, fiddler!"

Once more the violin wailed out its tune, and the play went on.

"I wonder what I'll have to do next?" complained Wellington Bunn.
"This is getting worse and worse. I've had to dance with a big
country girl, and every time I take a step she comes down on my foot.
I'll be lame for a week."

"It's awful--this moving picture work," agreed Mr. Sneed, who seemed
never to get over his "grouch." Then he went on: "It's dangerous,
too. Suppose this barn should catch fire? What would happen to us?"

"Ve vould get out quick-like, alretty!" said Carl Switzer, as there
came a lull in the dance. "Isn't dot der answer?"

"I wasn't asking a riddle," grunted Mr. Sneed. "But something will
happen; you mark my words."

"Yah, I hope it happens dat ve haf chicken for dinner on Sunday!"
laughed the German, who always seemed good-natured.

Some other scenes for the play, in which the background of the barn
was needed, were made, and then work was over for the evening.

Some of the young persons from neighboring farms