be pleased for the big money an’ all. There’s no pleasin’ some.”

“It isn’t that. You don’t understand. To-day — — ”

“Well, what’s happened to-day that’s so turrible, then?”

But how could Harrietta tell her? “To-day — — ” she began again, faltered, stopped. To-day, you must know, this had happened: It was the Big Scene of the film. Lydia Lissome, in black lace nightgown and ermine negligee, her hair in marcel waves, had just been “shot” for it.

“Now then, Miss Fuller,” said young Garvey, the director, “you come into the garden, see? You’ve noticed Joyce go out through the French window and you suspect she’s