"Mother, are you sure you're not making a sad mistake in letting your heart harden against her?" he could not resist saying. Her lips trembled and her handkerchief went to her eyes. Leaving his chair he crossed to where she was sitting and put his arm around her. "There, mother, we must not let anything come between us," he said, tenderly. "It's all right, mother; it's all right!" The next day, Saturday, he telephoned to Consuello early in the morning, soon after he reached the office, in order to catch her before she left for the studio. "I was just about to call you," she said. "Did you get my note?" "Yes." "I'm so sorry, but it will be impossible for me to get home, tomorrow. My director insists that we go out on location in the morning. You understand, don't you?" "Certainly," he replied. He had decided to tell her that his mother was ill and unable to accept her invitation. His relief was beyond words when he discovered that it would be unnecessary for him to fabricate an excuse for Mrs. Gallant, although he realized it was only postponing the time when he should be compelled to prevent Consuello learning of his mother's harsh judgment of her. "I was so anxious that we should have a perfect day together, your mother, yourself, father and mother and I. But we can arrange it for some other time, can't we?" "I'm sure we can." He felt justified somehow in taking this optimistic view. "And I wanted to ask you, would you care to come out with us on location, tomorrow? We have several scenes to do and I'm sure you will find it interesting." "It would be wonderful." "If you can be at the studio at nine?" "I'll be there." "And you'll explain how it is to your mother and tell her how sorry I am, won't you?" "She'll understand." He felt he was not trifling as much with truth in that answer. Carrying out a conclusion he reached during the day, John did not tell his mother of his conversation over the telephone with Consuello. He told her only that he would be away most of Sunday, permitting her to deduce that he had accepted Consuello's invitation and had made some explanation of her absence. A dozen automobiles were in line along the driveway of the Peerless studio when John arrived promptly at nine o'clock, the following morning. Consuello had evidently told the guard at the gate that she was expecting him. It was only necessary for him to mention his name. "Miss Carrillo asks that you be directed to her dressing room," the gateman said. With one exception the automobiles were already occupied. John recognized the cameramen with their equipment piled in one of the cars. In another he discerned his guide, "John J. Silence," and in another he caught a glimpse of the sad-eyed bass 'cello player, his huge instrument beside him.