It seemed an incredible sum. As he blotted his signature he was conscious of a sudden pity for the manager. The Montague girl had been hard--hard as nails, he thought--and Baird, a victim to his own good nature, would probably lose a great deal of money. He resolved never to press his advantage over a man who had been caught in a weak moment. “I just want to say, Mr. Baird,” he began, “that you needn’t be afraid I’ll hold you to this paper if you find it’s too much money to pay me. I wouldn’t have taken it at all if it hadn’t been for her.” He pointed an almost accusing finger at the girl. Baird grinned; the girl patted his hand. Even at grave moments she was a patter. “That’s all right, Son,” she said soothingly. “Jeff’s got all the best of it, and Jeff knows it, too. Don’t you, Jeff?” “Well--” Baird considered. “If his work keeps up I’m not getting any the worst of it.” “You said it. You know very well what birds will be looking for this boy next week, and what money they’ll have in their mitts. “Maybe,” said Baird. “Well, you got the best of it, and you deserve to have. I ain’t ever denied that, have I? You’ve earned the best of it the way you’ve handled him. All I’m here for, I didn’t want you to have too much the best of it, see? I think I treated you well.” “You’re all right, Flips.” “Well, everything’s jake, then?” “Everything’s jake with me.” “All right! And about his work keeping up--trust your old friend and well-wisher. And say, Jeff--” Her eyes gleamed reminiscently. “You ain’t caught him dancing yet. Well--wait, that’s all. We’ll put on a fox-trot in the next picture that will sure hog the footage.” As this dialogue progressed, Merton had felt more and more like a child in the presence of grave and knowing elders. They had seemed to forget him, to forget that the amazing contract just signed bore his name. He thought the Montague girl was taking a great deal upon herself. Her face, he noted, when she had stated terms to Baird, was the face she wore when risking a small bet at poker on a high hand. She seemed old, indeed. But he knew how he was going to make her feel younger. In his pocket was a gift of rare beauty, even if you couldn’t run railway trains by it. And pretty things made a child of her. Baird shook hands with him warmly at parting. “It’ll be a week yet before we start on the new piece. Have a good time. Oh, yes, and drop around some time next week if there’s any little thing you want to talk over--or maybe you don’t understand.” He wondered if this were a veiled reference to the piece about to be shown. Certainly nothing more definite was said about it. Yet it was a thing that must be of momentous interest to the manager, and the manager must know that it would be thrilling to the actor. He left with the Montague girl, who had become suddenly grave and quiet. But outside the Holden lot, with one of those quick transitions he had so often remarked in her, she brightened with a desperate sort of gaiety.