"Indeed it is, my dear," agreed her chum. "Why can't he let us do the Boston Dip, at least; or the one-step glide. I hate the continuous waltz."
"So do I. Let's try it, when you and I dance together."
"We will!"
But Mr. Pertell, who was overseeing the carrying out of the barn dance, at once cried sharply:
"Hold on there with that camera, Russ! That won't do, Miss Pennington—Miss Dixon. We don't want the new dances here. Not that there is anything the matter with them," he hastened to add, as he saw the defiant looks on the faces of the two former vaudeville players; "but this is supposed to be an old-fashioned country dance, of the style of about twenty-five years ago, and it would look queer in the films to see the dip and one-step introduced.
"Now do that part over, and keep on with the Virginia Reel. Go ahead, Russ. And everybody get a little more life into this thing. Be lively! Hop about more! Shout and sing if you want to—it won't hurt the film. Go ahead, fiddler!"
Once more the violin wailed out its tune, and the play went on.
"I wonder what I'll have to do next?" complained Wellington Bunn. "This is getting worse and worse. I've had to dance with a big country girl, and every time I take a step she comes down on my foot. I'll be lame for a week."
"It's awful—this moving picture work," agreed Mr. Sneed, who seemed never to get over his "grouch." Then he went on: "It's dangerous, too. Suppose this barn should catch fire? What would happen to us?"
"Ve vould get out quick-like, alretty!" said Carl Switzer, as there came a lull in the dance. "Isn't dot der answer?"