form in which a play should be cast, although the information was meagre
enough. Three dollars was an outrageous price to pay for the book,
thought Migwan, but she comforted herself with the thought that by means
of it she would soon lift the family out of their difficulties. She set
to work with a cheery heart. Writing picture plays was easier than
writing stories on account of the skeleton form in which they were cast,
which made it unnecessary to strive for excellence of literary style.
She finished the first one in two nights and sent it off with high
hopes. The company she sent it to was listed in the book as "greatly in
need of one-reel scenarios, and taking about everything sent to them."
She was filled with a secret elation and went about the house singing
like a lark, until Betty, who had been moping like an owl since her
mother went to the hospital, was quite cheered up. "What are you so
happy about?" she asked curiously. "You act as if somebody had left you
a fortune."

"Maybe they have," replied Migwan mysteriously; "wait and see!"

Her joy was short-lived, however, for the play came back even more
promptly than the stories had. Undaunted, she sent it out again and
again. The reasons given for rejection would have been amusing if Migwan
had not felt so disappointed. One said there was insufficient plot; one
said the plot was too complicated; one said it was too long for a
one-reel, and the next said it was too short even for a split-reel. Two
places kept the return postage she had enclosed and sent the manuscript
back collect. Scenario writing became a rather expensive amusement,
instead of a bringer of fortune. In spite of all this, she kept on
writing scenarios, for the fascination of the game had her in its grip,
and she would never be satisfied until she succeeded. Lessons were
thrust into the background of her mind by the throng of "scene-plots,"