The newcomer proved to be Goldstein, the manager of the Continental.  His face was frowning and severe as he rudely marched up to the group and, without the formality of a greeting, pointedly addressed the Stanton girls.

“What does it mean?” he demanded in evident excitement, for his voice shook and the accusing finger he held out trembled.  “How does it happen that my people, under contract to work for the Continental, are working for other firms?”

Maud paled and her eyes glistened with resentment as she rose and faced her manager.  Florence pulled her sister’s sleeve and said with a forced laugh:  “Sit down, Maud; the man has probably been drinking.”

He turned on the young girl fiercely, but now it was Arthur Weldon who seized the manager’s arm and whirled him around.

“Sir, you are intruding,” he said sternly.  “If you have business with these ladies, choose the proper time and place to address them.”

“I have!” cried Goldstein, blusteringly.  “They have treated me shamefully—­unprofessionally!  They have played me a trick, and I’ve the right to demand why they are working for a rival firm while in my pay.”

Mrs. Montrose now arose and said with quiet dignity: 

“Mr. Goldstein, you are intruding, as Mr. Weldon says.  But you have said so much to defame my nieces in the eyes of our friends, here assembled, that you must explain yourself more fully.”

The manager seemed astonished by his reception.  He looked from one to another and said more mildly: 

“It is easy enough for me to explain, but how can the Stantons explain their conduct?  They are under contract to act exclusively for the Continental Film Company and I pay them a liberal salary.  Yet only yesterday, when I was kind enough to give them a holiday, they went down to the beach and posed for a picture for our rivals, the Corona Company!”

“You are mistaken, sir!” retorted Arthur.  “The young ladies were in our company the entire afternoon and they did not pose for any picture whatever.”

“Don’t tell me!” cried Goldstein.  “I’ve just seen the picture down town.  I was going by one of the theatres when I noticed a placard that read:  ’Sensational Film by Maud Stanton, the Queen of Motion Picture Actresses, entitled “A Gallant Rescue!” First run to-night.’  I went in and saw the picture—­with my own eyes!—­and I saw Maud Stanton in a sea scene, rescuing a man who was drowning.  Don’t deny it, Miss,” he added, turning upon Maud fiercely.  “I saw it with my own eyes—­not an hour ago!”

After a moment’s amazed silence his hearers broke into a chorus of laughter, led by Flo, who was almost hysterical.  Even A. Jones smiled indulgently upon the irate manager, who was now fairly bristling with indignation.

“The Corona people,” remarked Arthur Weldon, “are quite enterprising.  I did not know they had a camera-man at the beach yesterday, but he must have secured a very interesting picture.  It was not posed, Mr. Goldstein, but taken from life.”