very kind. He explained why there was no work. They were not dissatisfied with her, but only sixty extra people were needed in Deane's set and his assistant, Weaver, had chosen them while Minnie was working on the Bacon set.
"But Mr. Bacon wasn't through with me," she persisted, "he was going to give me something to do and he didn't. You was there when I showed him my two acts, and saw how he was pleased with them."
Binns wasn't hardened, but her appeal was one out of hundreds a day. He was abrupt only because he felt it to be a kindness.
"Studio work is very uncertain," he explained to her. "There are several studios which employ extra people. We've had nothing here since Bacon finished. That's five days now. Two of our directors are away on location. Deane and Bacon won't begin new pictures until next month. Why don't you try some of the other studios? Here, I'll give you one of my cards. Go and see Reeves of the Biograph. That's down on the twenties off Broadway, not very far from where you live. He may have something for you."
Binns touched his fingers to his hat and hurried away.
For several minutes she stood staring at the line of people who were waiting to be admitted to the outer office. There was one comforting thought. She saw Alicia Adams among them, Alicia who had been so confident of her charm and her assured popularity with the assistant directors.
The gate opened and the restless line pushed steadily, forward. "Sheep," Bacon had called them.
Reeves of the Biograph Studio was a very different type from Binns. Minnie found him much more agreeable to talk to. His face seemed to hold the perpetual creases of
