Ferriday spun out the plot of his new five-reel scenario until he was like an unreeled spider. He was all out. The mechanical details interested and refreshed him now. He must order the studio scenery and select the outdoor “locations.” He must pick the supporting cast and devise one or two blood-curdling moments of great peril. Kedzie was too excited to note the ghoulish joy with which he planned to put her into the most perilous plights that had ever threatened even a movie star with death or crippledom. “Do they scare you, my dear?” he asked. “Scare me?” said Kedzie. “Why, Mr. Ferriday, if you told me to, I'd go out to the Bronx Zoo-ological Gardens and bite the ear off the biggest lion they got in the lion-house.” Ferriday reached out, put his arm about her farther shoulder, and squeezed her to him after the manner of dosing an accordeon. Kedzie emitted the same kind of squeak. But she was not unhappy, and she did not even say, “Sir!” The plot of The Kedziad was to be based on the From-Rags-to-Riches _leitmotiv_, Kedzie was to be a cruelly treated waif brought up as a boy by a demoniac Italian padrone who made her steal. She was to be sent into a rich man's home to rob it. She would find the rich man about to commit suicide all over his sumptuous library. She would save him, and he would save her from the padrone's revenge, on condition that she should dress as a girl (he had not, of course, suspected that she really was one at the time--had always been one, in fact). She would dress as a girl and conduct a very delicate diplomatic mission with a foreign ambassador, involving a submarine wrecked (in the studio tank) and a terrific ride across one of the deadliest battle-fields of Verdun (New Jersey) with a vast army of three hundred supers. When Kedzie had saved two or three nations and kept the United States from war the millionaire would regret that she was, after all, only a boy and be overcome with rapture when she told him the truth. The three hundred supers would then serve as wedding-guests in the biggest church wedding ever pulled off. Kedzie liked this last touch immensely. It would make up for that disgusting guestless ceremony in the Municipal Building. Ferriday got rid of her exquisitely by writing a note and saying to her: “Now you run down and hop into my car and take this note to Lady Powell-Carewe--don't fail to call her 'Pole Cary.' She is to design your wealthy wardrobe, and I want her to study you and do something unheard of in novelty and beauty. Tell her that the more she spends the better I'll like it.” Kedzie was really a heroine. She did not swoon even at that. When Ferriday dismissed her he enfolded her to his beautiful waistcoat, and then held her off by her two arms and said: “Little girl, you've made me so happy! So happy! Ah! We'll do great things together! This is a red-letter day for the movie art.”