And, as far as that gentleman’s incompetence was concerned, although she did not know it she was learning a courage and self-reliance that had been slower coming if she had remained under the direction of Frank Donnell. Artistically, intellectually, Eris, from sheer necessity, had made, unconsciously, a vast advance amid obstacles and conditions that always worried and sometimes dismayed her. As a matter of fact she had taught more to Creevy than he had ever taught anybody. Like a good field-dog, the bird-sense and instinct being there, with a little training she had begun to instruct her instructor in qualities and in technique entirely unfamiliar yet astonishingly sound. A mean mind accepts but resents. Creevy said to Smull, with sufficient cunning to insure further employment: “She takes her head and wears me out. Full of pep but don’t know anything. All the same, I’d rather handle that kind. If you want me to go on with her I’ll guarantee her.” But Smull was fretting about the overhead. He had the financier’s capacity for detail. He prowled about the studio--when he could take his eager gaze off of Eris--prying, peeping, mousing, snooping, asking misleading questions of employees, gradually informing himself. He put Creevy on the rack over the books. He told him, always with his fixed and sanguine smile, that the footage was forty per cent. unnecessary. He compared the cost of sets to Frank Donnell’s bill; the cost of transportation to the same item in Betsy Blythe’s company. Creevy writhed, not daring to show resentment. But he did worse; he pointed out that Betsy Blythe had a limousine listed on Frank Donnell’s account, and that he had cut that out of the perquisites of Eris and substituted a taxi. Of course Smull knew that. He had connived at this petty economy, but only partly from meanness; for it gave him a better excuse to offer his own car. And he cared nothing about the girl’s convenience. He said to Creevy: “You start in and clean up this picture by the end of the week. You begin to cut Monday next.” “All right, Mr. Smull. But I better start Marc Blither on the next----” “What next?” “The next picture. You have the continuity and director’s script----” “I may give it to Frank Donnell. There may not be another Odell picture,” said Smull, smiling fixedly. Creevy said nothing. “Usually,” added Smull, “I make up my mind at my own convenience and to please myself,--not others.” He got up from the rickety chair, walked to the outer door of the dressing rooms, and sent word to Eris that his car was waiting to take her to luncheon. She appeared presently without her make-up, Creevy being uncertain that he wanted her during the afternoon, but insisting that she “stick around.” * * * * * As they went down the steps to the car--a glittering affair with two men on the box--Smull took the girl familiarly by the arm.