"I hear tell," said Milt, chewing Brown Mule with gusto, "that them folks cavortin' down on The Beaches for a week past is movin' picture actors. That so, Lawford?" "There's a camera man and a director, and several handy men arrived," the son of the Salt Water Taffy King replied. "They are going to use Bozewell's house for some pictures. The Bozewells are in Europe." "But ain't none of the actorines come?" demanded Milt, who was a sad dog--let him tell it! He had been motorman on a street car in Providence for a couple of winters before he married Mandy Card, and now tried to keep green his reputation for sophistication. "I believe not," Lawford answered, with reflection. "I presume the company will come later. The director is taking what he calls 'stills' of the several localities they propose using when the films are really made." "One of 'em told me," chuckled Amiel Perdue, "that they was hopin' for a storm, so's to get a real wreck in the picture." "Hoh!" snorted Cap'n Joab. "Fine time o' year to be lookin' for a no'theaster on the Cape." "And do they reckon a craft'll drift right in here if there is a storm an' wrack herself to please 'em?" piped up Washy Gallup--no relation to Betty save through interminable cross-currents of Card and Baker blood. "Sometimes them fillum fellers buy a boat an' wreck it a-purpose. Look what they did to the old _Morning Star_," Milt said. "I read once of a comp'ny putting two locomotives on one track an' running 'em full-tilt together so's to get a picture of the smashup." "Crazy critters!" muttered Cap'n Joab. "But wait till ye see the fillum actresses," Milt chuckled. "Tell ye what, boys, some of 'em 'll make ye open your eyes!" "Ye better go easy. Milt, 'bout battin' your eyes," advised Amiel Perdue. "Mandy ain't lost her eyesight none either." Washy's thin whine broke through the guffaw: "I seen a picture at Paulmouth once't about a feller and a girl lost in the woods o' Borneo. It was a stirrin' picture. They was chased by headhunters, and one o' these here big man-apes tackled 'em--what d'ye call that critter now? Suthin' like ringin' a bell." "Orang-outang," suggested Lawford. "That's it. Sounds jest like the Baptist Meetin' House bell. It's cracked." "Them orang-outangs don't sound like no bell--not when they holler," put in Cap'n Abe, leaning on his counter and staring at the tireless fishfly again. "Cap'n Am'zon Silt, when he was ashore once't in Borneo, met one o' them critters." "Gosh all fishhooks!" ejaculated Milt. "Ain't there no place on this green airth that brother o' yourn ain't been, Cap'n Abe?" "He ain't never been in jail, Milt," said the storekeeper mildly, and the assembly broke into an appreciative chuckle. It was well known that on the last Fourth of July Milt Baker had been shut into the calaboose at Paulmouth to sober up.