The Moving Picture Girls in War Plays | Page 7

each got a quarter out of it fer bein' in
de picture, so we didn't make out so worse. Dere's your friend now,"
and the newsboy pointed to the comedian standing at the entrance to
one of the piers, talking to the watchman. Both had raised their voices
high, and were using their hands freely.
"Hey, Mr. Switzer, come along!" cried Paul. "It's time for the train."
"Ach! Der train! I t'ought der vos plenty of time. I vant to see a friend
of mine who is living on vun of dese wessels. Haven't I got der time?"
"No, not a minute to spare. You can see him when you come back."
"Ach! Maybe I neffer comes back. If I get in der war plays I may be
shotted."
"Oh, come on!" laughed Paul, while the newsboy went into amused
contortions at the exaggerated language and gestures of Mr. Switzer.
"See you later, Hans!" called the comedian to the watchman at the pier.
"Ach, Himmel! Vot I care!" the latter cried. "I don't care even if you
comes back neffer! You can't get on dose ship!" and he waved his hand
at the big vessels, interned to prevent their capture by the British
warships.
"I was having quite an argument with him," said Mr. Switzer, speaking
"United States," as he walked back to the station with Paul.
"Wouldn't he let you go on board?"
"No. Took me for an English spy, I guess. But I know one of der
officers, and I thought I'd have time for a chat with him."
"Mr. Pertell is in a hurry," said the young actor.
"Well, if we miss this train there's another."

"Not until to-morrow, and he wants to start the rehearsals the first thing
in the morning."
"Ach! Den dat's differunt alretty yet again, wasn't it so?" and Mr.
Switzer winked at the admiring newsboy, and tossed him a quarter,
with the advice to get a pretzel and use it for a watch charm. Whereat
the boy went into convulsive laughter again.
"What do you mean, Switzer, by going off just at train time?"
demanded the indignant director and manager.
"Train time is der time to go off--so long as you don't go off der track!"
declared the German. "But I vanted to go on--not go off--I vanted to go
on der ships only dey vouldn't let me. However, better late than be a
miss vot's like a bird in der hand," and with a shrug of his shoulders
and a last wink at the newsboy, Mr. Switzer went out to the waiting
train with the others.
It was a long and rather tedious ride to Oak Farm, which lay some
miles back in the hills from the railroad station, and it was late
afternoon when the company of moving picture actors and actresses
arrived, to be greeted by Sandy Apgar and his father and his mother.
"Well, I am glad to see you all again!" cried Sandy, shaking hands with
Mr. DeVere, the girls and the others. "It seems like old times!"
"We're glad dot you are glad!" declaimed Mr. Switzer. "Haf you any
more barns vot need burning down?"
"Not this time," laughed Sandy. "One barn-burning is enough for me."
A barn, an old one, had been destroyed on the occasion of the previous
visit of the moving picture company--a burning barn being called for in
one of the scenes.
Oak Farm was a big place, and, in anticipation of the war plays to be
enacted there, several buildings had been built to accommodate the
extra actors and actresses, where they could sleep and eat. The DeVere
girls and the other members of the regular company would board at the

farmhouse as they had done before.
Hard work began early the next day. There was much to do in the way
of preliminary preparation, and Pop Snooks, the property man, with a
corps of assistants, was in his element. While Ruth, Alice and the
others were going through a rehearsal of their parts without, of course,
the proper scenic background, the property man was setting up the
different "sets" needed in the various scenes.
While they were working on one piece, Sandy Apgar came along on his
way to look after some of the farming operations.
"Hello!" he cried. "Say! you fellows did that mighty quick."
"Did what?" asked Alice, who stood near, not being engaged for the
time being.
"Why, dug that well. I didn't know you could strike water so soon," and
he pointed to an old-fashioned well with a sweep, which stood not far
from the house. "What'd you use--a post-hole digger?" he asked. "What
sort of water did you strike?"
Before any one could answer him he strode over to the well, and, as he
looked down into