hundred of them, all told, and when we recovered from our scare I could
hear the machine beside me clicking away as it took the picture."

"Did the wall fall?" asked Uncle John.

"Not just then. They first got the picture of the rush-out and the
panic, and then they stopped the camera and moved the people to a safe
distance away. We watched them set up some dummy figures of girls and
workmen, closer in, and then in some way they toppled over the big brick
wall. It fell into the street with a thundering crash, but only the
dummies were buried under the debris."

Mr. Merrick drew a long breath.

"It's wonderful!" he exclaimed. "Why, it must have cost a lot of money to
ruin such a building--and all for the sake of a picture!"

"That's what I said to the manager," replied Patsy; "but he told us the
building was going to be pulled down, anyhow, and a better one built in
its place; so he invented a picture story to fit the falling walls and it
didn't cost him so much as one might think. So you see, Uncle, we are in
that picture--big as life and scared stiff--and I'd give a lot to see how
we look when we're positively terror-stricken."

"It will cost you just ten cents," remarked Beth, with a shrug; "that is,
if the picture proves good enough to be displayed at one of those horrid
little theatres."

"One?" said Uncle John. "One thousand little theatres, most likely, will
show the picture, and perhaps millions of spectators will see you and