"And that's what he jinerally does," spoke another native, in a low voice. "He's never worked, an' I guess he never will."
"It would be pretty hard to get a moving picture of him, then," laughed Russ.
Finally the train, which had been delayed by a slight accident, came along, and the weary players got aboard. In due season they reached Sycamore, a little village near the shores of Lake Kissimmee.
Accommodations had been arranged for in advance, and soon the company was getting settled in the new quarters.
"This is some different from St Augustine," complained Miss Pennington, who roomed with her friend Miss Dixon.
"I should say so. I'd go back to New York, if I could."
"So would I. But I guess we'll have to stay, my dear. Hand me the powder; will you? My face is a wreck from the cinders and dust."
"So's mine." And together they "beautified."
Ruth and Alice were among the first to go down to the parlor to await the ringing of the dinner gong. They strolled up to the desk, to ask the clerk if there was any mail for them, since word had been left at the hotel in St. Augustine to forward any letters.
"Oh, you are with the moving picture company; aren't you?" the clerk asked, as he gave them each a letter. They were from acquaintances they had made at the hotel.