“It isn’t necessary,” replied Uncle John.  “It’s merely a habit the builders have acquired.  There seemed to be a total lack of ventilation in that place.”

“No one expects much for ten cents,” Arthur reminded him.  “If the pictures are good the public will stand for anything in the matter of discomfort.”

“Did you notice,” said Patsy, slowly, “how many children there were in that theatre?”

“Yes, indeed,” answered Beth.  “The pictures seem to be an ideal amusement for children.  I do not suppose they can understand all the dramas and love stories, but the pictures entertain them, whatever the theme may be.”

“They are not allowed to go unless accompanied by a parent or guardian,” Arthur stated; “but I saw a group of eleven under the care of one cheery-looking old lady, so I suppose the little ones evade the law in that way.”

On Tuesday forenoon they drove to the office of the Continental Film Manufacturing Company and inquired for Mr. Werner.  Every approach to the interior of the big stockade was closely guarded in order to prevent the curious from intruding, but Werner at once hurried out to greet them and escorted them into the enclosure.

“You are just in time,” said he, “to witness one of the scenes in our great picture, ‘Samson and Delilah.’  They’re getting it on now, so you must hurry if you want to see the work.  It’s really the biggest thing our firm has ever turned out.”

They passed a group of low but extensive frame buildings, threading their way between them until finally they emerged within a large open space where huge frames covered with canvas were propped up in broad daylight and apparently in great disorder.  Huddled here and there were groups of people wearing Oriental costumes of the Bible days, their skins stained brown, the make-up on their faces showing hideously in the strong light.  A herd of meek donkeys, bearing burdens of faggots, was tethered near by.

“Follow me closely,” cautioned their guide, “so you will not step over the ‘dead line’ and get yourselves in the picture.”

“What is the ’dead line’?” inquired Uncle John.

“The line that marks the limit of the camera’s scope.  Outside of that you are quite safe.  You will notice it is plainly marked in chalk.”

They passed around to the front and were amazed at the picture disclosed by the reverse of the gaunt, skeleton-like framework.  For now was displayed Solomon’s temple in all its magnificence, with huge pillars supporting a roof that seemed as solid and substantial as stone and mortar could make it.

The perspective was wonderful, for they could follow a line of vision through the broad temple to a passage beyond, along which was approaching a procession of priests, headed by dancing girls and musicians beating tomtoms and playing upon reeds.  The entire scene was barbaric in its splendor and so impressive that they watched it spellbound, awed and silent.