st be very--very crude sort of persons," he
said.

"Not at all!" cried Alice. "I was there and saw them, and there were
some as nice as you'd want to meet. They were real gentlemen and
ladies, even if the men were in their shirt sleeves."

"But they can't act!" asserted Mr. DeVere. "I have seen bills up
advertising the moving pictures--all they seemed to be doing--the
so-called actors, I mean--was falling off horses, roping steers--I
believe "roping" is the proper term--or else jumping off bridges or
standing in the way of railroad trains. And they call that acting!"

"Oh, you wouldn't have to do that, Daddy!" cried Alice, with a laugh.
"Mr Pertell is putting on some real dramas--just like society plays,
you know. Of course all the scenes won't take place in a parlor, I
suppose. You won't have to do outdoor work, though, and I'm sure you
won't have to catch a wild steer, or stop a runaway locomotive."

"I should hope not," he replied, with a tragic gesture.

"But that is real acting, all the same," went on Alice. In that
little while she had come to have a great liking and interest in the
moving picture side of acting. "You should see some of the scenes I
saw. Why, Daddy, some of the men and women were just as good as some
of the actors with whom you have been on the road."

"Oh, yes, if you include the road companies of the barn-storming
days, perhaps," admitted Mr. DeVere. "But I refer to the real art of
the drama, Alice. However, let us not discuss it. The subject is too
painful. I have decided to take up the work, since I can do nothing
else on account of my unfortunate voice--and I will do my best in the
movies. It is due to myself that I should, and it is due to you girls
that I provide for you in any way that I can."

"Oh, Dad!" exclaimed Ruth. "It is too bad if you have to sacrifice
your art to mere bread and butter."

"Tut! Tut!" he exclaimed, smiling and holding up a chiding hand. "I
don't look at it that way at all. I am not so foolish. Art may be a
very nice thing, but bread and butter is better. We have to live, my
dear. And, after all, my art is not so wonderful. I hope I have not
exaggerated my worth to myself. I am very willing to try this new
line, and I am very glad that Alice suggested it. Only it--it was
rather a shock--at first. Now let us consider."

They talked it all over, and Alice went more into detail as to what
she had seen at the moving picture theatre. Mr. DeVere grew more and
mo