The line was moving one by one as the people were being turned away from the window. Some went wearily toward the elevator, others through the door which led to the dressing rooms. By the time Minnie's turn came her body was damp with a cold sweat. Where was Reeves? Who was that man in his place? Would he know that Reeves had promised her she was to have work. Binns' card, how far would that take her?
Reeves' assistant was a tall young man who peered at Minnie with near-sighted eyes through his thick, distorting glasses. Without a word he handed her a card to fill out, then started to walk over to the ledger in which was filed the names of the extra people.
"Just a minute please," she called to him. "I'm Minnie Flynn. I seen Mr. Reeves on Tuesday and he said I was to work today."
"What name was that?" asked the young man in an uninterested tone.
"Mineola Flynn," she corrected quickly. "He said I was to work on the Pickford set."
"Oh, he did, did he? Well, I think they've got all the people they can handle. Fill out the card, young lady, and be sure to put down your phone number. I'll call you when we have anything for you."
Minnie's knuckles wrapped upon the iron grating, "Please, just a minute," she repeated in a quavering voice, "but he promised it to me. I been countin' on it. Look, here's a card from Mr. Binns. That's how he come to see me. He promised!"
"Step aside just a minute, you're blocking up the line, I'll see Mr. Reeves and find out if they can make room for you."
The mother slid eagerly into her place and raising the
