stick to this studio and not go near any of the others. If I'm not in this room I'll be just outside there, on that bench around the tree, or just across the street where you can see through the gate and watch the people go through."
"Say!" Again the woman searched his face and broke into her friendly smile. "Say, you're a real nut, aren't you? How'd you ever get this way?"
And again he was talking, telling now of his past and his struggles to educate himself as a screen actor—one of the best. He spoke of Simsbury and Gashwiler and of Lowell Hardy who took his stills, and of Tessie Kearns, whose sympathy and advice had done so much to encourage him. The woman was joyously attentive. Now she did more than smile. She laughed at intervals throughout the narrative, though her laughter seemed entirely sympathetic and in no way daunted the speaker.
"Well, Merton, you're a funny one—I'll say that. You're so kind of ignorant and appealing. And you say this Bughalter or Gigwater or whatever his name is will take you back into the store any time? Well, that's a good thing to remember, because the picture game is a hard game. I wouldn't discourage a nice clean boy like you for the world, but there are a lot of people in pictures right now that would prefer a steady job like that one you left."
"It's Gashwiler—that name."
"Oh, all right, just so you don't forget it and forget the address."
The new applicant warmly reassured her.
"I wouldn't be likely to forget that, after living there all these years."
When he left the window the woman was again saying into the telephone, "No, dear, nothing to-day. I'm sorry."
It was that night he wrote to Tessie Kearns:
Dear Friend Tessie:
Well, Tessie, here I am safe and sound in Hollywood after a long ride on the cars that went through many strange and interesting