ed Miss Pennington,
hastening to her friend's side, and supporting her with an arm about
her waist.

"It's only my ankle; it's a bit sprained, I think. A good thing I
haven't a dancing part," said Miss Dixon.

"Will you be able to go on, when we make the film over again?" asked
the manager anxiously. He did not make this inquiry because he was
heartless, but the foremost thought with those who provide amusement
for the public--whether they be managers or actors--is that "the show
must go on." For that reason sickness, and even the death of loved
ones, often does not stop the player from appearing on the stage.
And, in a measure, this is no less so with those who help to make the
moving pictures.

"Oh, I think I'll be able to go on after a bit," declared Miss Dixon,
sinking into a chair that Pepper Sneed pushed forward for her.

"Go on! You'll never be able to go on inside of a week, little girl!"
exclaimed the actor with the perpetual "grouch." He looked gloomily
at those about him. "This is the worst business in the world," he
went on. "Something is always happening. I know something will go
wrong in that safe-blowing act I'm to do next. I----"

"Say, you go do that act, and then let us know if anything happens!"
interrupted the manager. "They're waiting for you over there," and he
motioned to an office setting, in which a safe robbery, one of the
scenes of another play, was to take place.

"All right!" sighed Pepper Sneed, as he moved off to take his part.
"But, mind what I'm telling you," he said to Miss Dixon. "You'll be
laid up for a week."

"An' it all de fault of dot property man!" exclaimed Mr. Switzer. "He
made dot fence like paper yet alretty! It vouldn't holt up a fly!"

"That was a good fence!" defended Pop Snooks. "The trouble was you
leaned your ton weight on it."

"Ton veight! Huh! Vot you tink I am? A hipperperpotamusses? A ton
veight--huh!" spluttered Mr. Switzer.

"Never mind now!" called the manager sharply, with a reassuring
glance at Ruth and Alice, who were regarding this little flurry with
anxious eyes. They glanced over toward their father. "Pop, make a new
fence--a strong one--and we'll film that scene over again," went on
Mr. Pertell. "To your places, the rest of you. Mr. DeVere, I think
that will be all we will require of you to-day. But come into the
office. I have a new play I'm thinking of filming, and I'd like your
advice on some of the scenes. Miss Dixon, shall I send for a