hey
had listened with amusement, not unmixed with pride, at the whispered
comments on the play in which they had taken part.

"Do you think--I mean--would you call that a successful film, Russ?"
asked Alice.

"I certainly would," he replied. "Didn't I take it myself?"

"That's so!" exclaimed Ruth. "But I wish Mr. Pertell could know how
well it went. Not on our account," she added quickly, "but on account
of his own business, and because dear daddy is in it. And the others,
too--they'd be glad to know the audience liked it, I think."

"Don't worry," returned Russ. "Mr. Pertell will know it soon enough.
He keeps track of all his films, and he knows which are successful or
not. He'll hear of this one the first thing in the morning. The
owners of the theaters where our films are used report as to which go
the best. And their own re-orders also show that. So you'll be
discovered, all right."

"Oh, it wasn't so much that!" declared Alice, quickly. "But it is new
and strange to us, and I suppose we're too enthusiastic about it."

"Not a bit too enthusiastic!" Russ assured her. "That's what I like
to see, and I guess the manager does, too. It would be a good thing
if some of the others were a little more enthusiastic. They'd do
better acting. Say!" he broke in, "what do you say to an ice cream
soda? It's warm this evening," and he paused before a brilliantly
lighted drug store.

"Shall we, Ruth?" asked Alice, with a queer little look at her
sister.

"Oh, I don't know," began Ruth, hesitatingly.

"Which means--yes!" Alice cried, gaily. "Come on!"

Mr. DeVere looked up inquiringly from his bundle of manuscript as the
girls and Russ entered the little apartment later.

"Oh, Daddy! It was just fine!" cried Alice, going over to him, and
covering his eyes with her hands.

"We saw ourselves--and you, too, as others see us!" added Ruth.

"I--er--I don't understand," their father whispered.

"The moving pictures," explained Alice. "It was that play, 'A False
Count,' you know. Oh, it made a great hit, I can tell you!"

"Ah, I'm glad to hear it," he said. "Sit down, Russ."

"No, I can't stay," answered the visitor from across the hall. "I've
brought your daughters safely home, and now I have to get back. I've
got a little work to do yet."

"Not at the studio; have you--so late?" asked Ruth.

"Oh, it isn't late," he laughed. "But I want to do a little work on
my invention. I've sort of struck a snag, and it's botheri