“I like the job, I guess.” “So do I.” “Oh, very well,” he said, laughing, “go to it, girlie.” “How?” “Why, _I_ can’t tell you----” “You _can_!” He lifted his bait and flopped it into another place. “Now, listen,” he said, “some men would take notice of your pretty face and kid you along. That ain’t me. If you break loose and go into pictures it’s a one to a million shot you make carfare.” “I want to try.” “_I_ can’t give you a job, sister----” “Would the Crystal Film management let me try?” “Nobody would let you try unless they needed an extra.” “What is an extra?” “A day’s jobber. Maybe several days. Then it’s hoofing it after the next job.” “Couldn’t they let me try a small part?” “We’re cast. You got to begin as an extra, anyhow. There’s nothing else to it, girlie----” Something jerked his line; gingerly he lifted the rod, not “striking”; a plump trout fell from the hook into the water. “Lost him, by jinx!” he exclaimed. “What the devil did I do that I hadn’t oughto I dunno?” “You should jerk when a trout bites. You just lifted him out. You can’t hook a trout that way.... I hope you will be kind enough to give me your name and address, and help me to get into pictures.” For a while he stood silent, re-baiting his hook. When he was ready he cast the line into the water, laid the rod on the bank, drew out and lighted a large, pallid cigar. “Of course,” he remarked, “your parents are against your going into pictures.” “My mother is dead. My stepmother only laughs at me.” “How about papa?” “He wouldn’t like it.” “Same old scenario,” he said. “And I’ll give you the same old advice: if you got a good home, stay put. Have you?” “Yes.” “But you don’t want to stay put?” “No.” “You want to run away and-be-a-great-actress?” “I’m going to try.” “Try to do what?” “Find out what I can do and do it!” she replied hotly, almost on the verge of tears. He looked up at the delicate, flushed beauty of her face. It wasn’t a question of talent. Most women have the actress in them. With or lacking intelligence it can be developed enough for Broadway use. “You young girls,” he said, “expect to travel everywhere on your looks. And some of you do. And they last as long as their looks last. But men get nowhere without brains.” “I have brains,” she retorted unsteadily. “Let it go at that. But where’s your experience?” “How can I have it unless I--I try?” “You think acting is your vocation, sister?” “I intend to find out.” “You better listen to me and stick to a good home while the sticking’s good!” “I’m going into pictures,” she said slowly. “And that’s _that_!” Wearying of bad luck the fat man started to move down stream toward another pool. The girl rose straight up on her mossy rock, joining both hands in classic appeal, quite unconscious of her dramatic attitude. “Please--_please_ tell me who you are and where you live!” she beseeched him. He was inclined to laugh; then her naïveté touched him.