"They had him over on the Lobel lot this afternoon and they tell me he went big just on his looks. Well, you got to hand it to that Gillespie--he's some picker. If that old boy only had one of these here white goatees on his chin instead of those mountain-goat drapes, he'd be the most perfect Southern Colonel ever I saw in the fillums or on the talking stage, either one. But he's the first one ever I saw--you know what I mean, O. K. in every touch--outside of a book or a show shop. I figure quite a lot of 'em around here will be wanting him." "I wish somebody would decide they wanted me," she said. "This just hanging round and hanging round gets on my nerves--not to speak of other reasons." "Well, ain't I told you I'm on the look-out for something for you? Ain't I told you all about what I been doing 'specially on your account? But with a million of these janes from all over the country swarming in here and fighting for every chance that turns up, it's kind of hard making an opening for a new hand." "If I could just get on once, even as an extra, I'd show 'em something." "If you'd listen to reason, kid, and be good to me"--he sank his voice--"you know, be a real little cozy pal, I'll guarantee you'll be something better than an extra. A fella likes to be a good fella and a good sport and all, and go through for somebody, but what I say is he's due his reward. Now, ain't he?" The girl seemed not to have heard him. "He's nice," she said, as though to herself. "I'll bet anything he's awfully nice." "Who? Oh, you mean old Uncle Whiskers. Forget him--think about me a spell. Why not be reasonable now, like I was just now saying?" He scrooged in closer. She edged away, keeping distance between them. Mr. Daly caught a flash of her quick grimace. From wheedling, his tone changed to a rasping one of rising temper. "Maybe he's nice," he said, "but even so I noticed you sort of run out on him a while ago." He let a little grit of satire sift into the next sentence: "What's the matter--don't you real Southerners like to get together when you get a chance and hold hands and sing Dixie Land? Or is it you was scared of something?" "Say, look her-r-r-e, you lay off that stuff." If the truth must be known Miss Clayton was a child of Pittsburgh. And in Pittsburgh to r-r-r is human, to forgive almost impossible--if you're a purist in the matter of phonetics. And in moments of stress this native was prone to forget things which laboriously she had learned, and revert to the native idioms.