“Lets follow those girls,” suggested Bess, as a chattering trio went into the building.  “We can’t go far wrong, for the sheep and the goats seem to be separated,” and she giggled.

“Meaning the men from the women?” said Nan.  “I guess those doors lead to the dressing rooms.”

She was right in this, for when the two friends stepped doubtfully into a long, high, white-plastered passage, which was quite empty, but out of which many doors opened, they heard a confusion of conversation and laughter from somewhere near.

“What are you going to do?” asked Bess, at once—­and as usual—­shifting all responsibility to her chum’s shoulders.  “Knock at all the doors, one after the other, until we find somebody who will direct us further?”

“Maybe that would not be a bad idea, Bess,” Nan returned.  “But—­”

Just then a door opened and the confusion of voices burst on the visitors’ ears with startling directness.  A girl, dressed as a Gypsy, gaudy of raiment and bejeweled with brilliantly colored glass beads, almost ran the chums down as she tried to pull the door to behind her.  The girl’s face was painted with heavy shadows and much white, and so oddly that it looked almost like the make-up for a clown’s part.

“Hello, kids.  Going in here?” she asked pleasantly enough, refraining from closing the door entirely.

Nan and Bess obtained a good view of the noisy room.  It was lighted by high windows and a skylight.  There were rows of lockers for the girls’ clothes along the blank wall of the room.  Through the middle and along the sides were long tables and stools.  The tables were divided into sections, each of which had its own make-up and toilet outfit.

A mature woman was going about, re-touching many of the girl’s faces and scolding them, as Nan and Bess could hear, for not putting on the grease paint thick enough.

“That nasty stuff!” gasped Bess, in Nan’s ear.  “I wouldn’t want to put it on my face.”

Right then and there Bess lost all her desire for posing for the moving picture screen.  Nan paid little attention to her, but ran after the girl who was hurrying through the passage toward the rear of the great building.

“Oh, wait, please!” cried Nan.  “I want to find Mr. Gray—­and I know he can’t be in that dressing-room.”

“Gray?  I should say not,” and the girl in costume laughed.  Then she saw the letter in Nan’s hand.  “Is that for Gray?”

“Yes,” Nan replied.

“Come along then.  I expect he’s been waiting for me for half an hour now—­and believe me, he’s just as kind and considerate as a wild bull when we keep him waiting.  I overslept this morning.”

It was then after ten o’clock, and Nan wondered how one could “oversleep” so late.

“I’m only glad Madam isn’t going to be here this morning.  By the way,” the girl added, curiously, “who’s your letter from?  You and your friend trying to break into the movies?”