"Alice! You wouldn't want anything like that!" cried Ruth, much shocked.
"Wouldn't I, though! Just give me a chance. I can swim, you know!"
"Yes, I know, but tumbling into the river—with your clothes on—it might be dangerous!"
"Oh, well, if we're in the moving picture business we will have to learn to take chances. I read in the paper the other day how a couple leaped from the Brooklyn Bridge with a parachute—a man and woman."
"Yes, I know; but we're not going to do anything like that! Papa wouldn't let us."
"No, I suppose not," and Alice sighed as though she really wanted to indulge in some such daring "stunt" as a bridge leap.
"I know one part you're going to have, Ruth," went on Alice, as she surveyed herself in the glass.
"What is it?" asked Ruth, eagerly. "Shall I like it?"
"I think you will, dear. It's laid in an old mill—there is one on Oak Farm, I believe. You're to be imprisoned in it, and your lover rides up—probably on one of those silly milk-white steeds I object to—and rescues you—breaks down the door in fact—and gets you just as you are about to be bound on the mill wheel."
