CHAPTER XVIII.
A NEW KIND OF PICTURE "What you doing now ?" Robert Grant Burns came around the corner of the house looking for her, half an hour later, and found her sitting on the doorstep with the old atlas on her knees and her hat far back on her head, scribbling away for dear life.
Jean smiled abstractedly up at him.

"Why, I'm--why-y, I'm becoming a famous scenario writer! Do you want me to go and plaster my face with grease-paint, and become a mere common leading lady again ?" "No, I don't." Robert Grant Burns chuckled fatly and held out his hand with a big, pink cameo on his little finger.

"Let's see what a famous scenario looks like.

What is it,--that plot you were telling me awhile ago ?" "Why, yes.

I'm putting on the meat." There was a slight hesitation before Jean handed him the pages she had done.