Ruth Fielding in Moving Pictures by Alice Emerson

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"I positively cannot stand it, young ladies," declared the nervous
teacher, who had been up most of the night. "Such continuous chatter is
enough to crack one's eardrums."

The girls really were too excited to be very considerate, although they
did not mean to offend Miss Brokaw. If the window or an outer door was
opened, the very tang of sour smoke on the air set their tongues off again
about the fire.

Once in chapel, however, a rather solemn feeling fell upon them. The
teacher whose turn it was to read, selected a psalm of gratitude that
seemed to breathe just what was in all their hearts. It gave thanks for
deliverance from the terrors of the night and those of the noonday, for
the Power that encircles poor humanity and shelters it from harm.

"We, too, have been sheltered," thought Ruth and her friends. "We have
been guarded from the evil that flyeth by night and from the terror that
stalketh at noonday. Surely God is our Keeper and Strength. We will not be
afraid."

When Helen played one of the old, old hymns of the Church she brought such
sweet tones from the strings of the violin that Miss Picolet hushed her
accompaniment, surprised and delighted. And when they sang, Ruth
Fielding's rich and mellow voice carried the air in perfect harmony.

When the hymn was finished the girls turned glowing faces upon Mrs.
Tellingham who, despite a sleepless night, looked fresh and sweet.

"For the first time in the history of Briarwood Hall as a school," she
said, speaking so that all could hear her, "a really serious calamity has
fallen."

"We are all determined upon one thing, I am sure," pursued Mrs.
Tellingham. "We will not worry about what is already done. Water that has
run by the mill will never drive the wheel, you know. We will look forward
to the rebuilding of the West Dormitory, and that as soon as it can
possibly be done."

"Hoo-ray!" cried Jennie Stone, leading a hearty cheer.

"We will have the ruin of the old structure torn away at once."

The murmur of appreciation rose again from the girls assembled.

"I do not recall at this moment just how much insurance was on the West
Dormitory; I leave those details to Doctor Tellingham, and he is now
looking up the papers in the office. But I am sure there is ample to
rebuild, and if all goes well, a new West Dormitory will rise in the place
of these smoking ruins before our patrons and our friends come to our
graduation exercises in June."

"Oh, bully!" cried Ann Hicks, under her breath. "I want Uncle Bill to see
Briarwood at its very best."

"But the dear old ivy never can be replaced," Mercy Curtis murmured to
Ruth.

"We shall endeavor," went on Mrs. Tellingham, smiling, "to repeat in the
new building all the advantages of the old. We shall have everything
replaced, if possible, exactly as it was before the fire."

"There was a big inkspot on my rug," muttered Jennie Stone. "Bet they
can't get _that_ just in the same place again."

"You homeless girls must, in the meanwhile, possess your souls with
patience. The younger girls who had quarters in the West Dormitory will
be made comfortable in the East. But you older girls must be cared for in
a different way.

"Some few I shall take into my own apartments, or otherwise find room for
in the main building here. Some, however, will have to occupy quarters
outside the school premises until the new building is constructed and
ready for occupancy. Arrangements for these quarters I have already made.
And now we can separate for our usual classes and work, with the feeling
that all will come out right and that the new dormitory will be built
within reasonable time."

She ceased speaking. The door near the platform suddenly opened and "the
old doctor" as the girls called the absent-minded husband of their
preceptress, hastily entered.

He stumbled up to the platform, waving a number of papers in his hand. He
stammered so that he could hardly speak at first, and he gave no attention
to the amazed girls in the audience.

"Mrs. Tellingham! Mrs. Tellingham!" he ejaculated. "I have made a great
mistake--an unpardonable error! In renewing the insurance for the various
buildings I overlooked that for the West Dormitory and its contents. The
insurance on that ran out a week ago. There was not a dollar on it when it
burned last night!"

CHAPTER XII

"GREAT OAKS FROM LITTLE ACORNS GROW"

Mercy Curtis was one of the older girls quartered in Mrs. Tellingham's
suite. She told her close friends how Doctor Tellingham walked the floor
of the inner office and bemoaned his absent-mindedness that had brought
disaster upon Mrs. Tellingham and the whole school.

"I know that Mrs. Tellingham is becoming more worried about the doctor
than about the lapsed insurance," said Mercy. "Of course, he's a foolish
old man without any more head than a pin! But why did she leave the
business of renewing the insurance in his charge, in the first place?"

"Oh, Mercy!" protested Ruth.

"No more head than a pin!" repeated Nettie Parsons, in horror. "Why! who
ever heard the like? He writes histories! He must be a very brainy man."

"Who ever _reads_ them?" grumbled Mercy.

"They look awfully solid," confessed Lluella Fairfax. "Did you ever look
at the whole row of them in the office bookcase?"

Jennie Stone began to giggle. "I don't care," she said, "the doctor may be
a great historian; but his memory is just as short as it can be. Do you
know what happened only last half when he and Mrs. Tellingham were invited
to the Lumberton Association Ball?"

"What was it?" asked Helen.

"I suppose it is something perfectly ridiculous, or Heavy wouldn't have
remembered it," Ruth suggested.

"Thank you!" returned the plump girl, making a face. "I have a better
memory than Dr. Tellingham, I should hope."

"Come on! tell the joke, Heavy," urged Mary Cox.

"Why, when he came into the office ready to escort Mrs. Tellingham to the
ball, Mrs. T. criticised his tie. 'Do go back, Doctor, and put on a black
tie,' she said. You know, he's the best natured old dear in the world,"
Jennie pursued, "and he went right back into his bedroom to make the
change. They waited, and they waited, and then they waited some more,"
chuckled Jennie. "The doctor did not reappear. So Mrs. Tellingham finally
went to his bedroom and opened the door. She saw that the old doctor,
having removed the tie she didn't like, had continued the process of
undressing, and just as Mrs. Tellingham looked in, he climbed placidly
into bed."

"I can believe that," said Ann Hicks, when the laughter had subsided.

"And I can believe that both he and Mrs. Tellingham are just as worried
about the destruction of the dormitory as they can be," Nettie added. "All
their money is invested in the school, is it not?"

"Except that invested in the doctor's useless histories," said Mercy, who
was inclined to be most unmerciful of speech on occasion.

"Is there nobody to help them rebuild?" asked Ann, tentatively.

"Not a soul," declared Ruth.

"I believe I'll write to Uncle Bill Hicks. He'll help, I know," said Ann.
"Next to Heavy's Aunt Kate, Uncle Bill thinks that the finest woman on
this footstool is Mrs. Tellingham."

"And I'll ask papa for some money," Nettie said quickly. "I had that in
mind from the first."

"My father will give some," Helen said.

"We'll write to Madge Steele," said Belle. "Her father might help, too."

"I guess all our folks will be willing to help," Lluella Fairfax added.

"And," said Jennie, "here's Ruth, with a fortune in her own right."

But Ruth did not make any rejoinder to Jennie's remark and that surprised
them all; for they knew Ruth Fielding was not stingy.

"We are going about this thing in the wrong way, girls," she said quietly.
"At least, I think we are."

"How are we?" demanded Helen. "Surely, we all want to help Mrs.
Tellingham."

"And Old Briarwood," cried Belle Tingley.

"And all the students of our Alma Mater will want to join in," maintained
Lluella.

"Now you've said it!" cried Ruth, with a sudden smile. "Every girl who is
now attending the dear old Hall will want to help rebuild the West
Dormitory."

"All can give their mites, can't they?" demanded Jennie. "And the rich can
give of their plenty."

"That is just it," Ruth went on, still seriously. "Nettie's father will
give a good sum; so will Helen's; so will Mr. William Hicks, who is one of
the most liberal men in the world. Therefore, the little gifts of the
other girls' parents will look terribly small."

"Oh, Ruth! don't say that our folks can't give," cried Jennie, whose
father likewise was rich.

"It is not in my province to say who shall, or who shall not give,"
declared Ruth, hastily. "I only want to point out to you girls that if the
rich give a great deal the poorer will almost be ashamed to give what they
can."

"That's right," said Mary Cox, suddenly. "We haven't much; so we couldn't
give much."

The girls looked rather troubled; but Ruth had not finished. "There is
another thing," she said. "If all your fathers give to the dormitory fund,
what will you girls personally give?"

"Oh! how's that, Ruth?" cried Helen.

"Say," drawled Jennie Stone, the plump girl, "we're not all fixed like
you, Ruth--with a bank account to draw on."

Ruth blushed; but she did not lose her temper. "You don't understand what
I mean yet," she said. "Either I am particularly muddy in my suggestions,
or you girls are awfully dense to-day."

"How polite! how polite!" murmured Jennie.

"What I am trying to get at," Ruth continued earnestly, "is the fact that
the rebuilding of the West Dormitory should interest us girls more than
anybody else in the world, save Mrs. Tellingham."

"Well--doesn't it?" demanded Mary Cox, rather sharply.

"Does it interest us all enough for each girl to be willing to do
something personally, or sacrifice something, toward the new building?"
asked Ruth.

"I getcha, Steve!" exclaimed the slangy Jennie.

"Oh, dear me, Ruthie! we _are_ dense," said Nettie. "Of course! every girl
should be able to do as much as the next one. Otherwise there may be hard
feelings."

"Secret heartburnings," added Helen.

"Of course," Mercy said, "Ruth would see _that_ side of it. I don't expect
my folks could give ten dollars toward the fund; but I should want to do
as much as any girl here. Nobody loves Briarwood Hall more than I do,"
added the lame girl, fiercely.

"I believe you, dear," Ruth said. "And what we want to do is to invent
some way of earning money in which every girl will have her part, and do
her part, and feel that she has done her full share in rebuilding the West
Dormitory."

"Hurrah!" cried Jennie. "That's the talk! I tell you, Ruth, you are the
only bright girl in this school!"

"Thank you," said Ruth. "You cannot flatter me into believing that."

"But what's the idea, dear?" demanded Helen, eagerly. "You have some nice
invention, I am sure. You always do have."

"Another base flatterer!" cried Ruth, laughing gaily. "I believe you girls
say such things just to jolly me along, and so that you will not have to
exercise any gray matter yourselves."

"Oh! oh!" groaned Jennie. "How ungrateful."

"Of course you have something to suggest?" Nettie said.

"No, not a thing. My idea is, merely, that we start something that every
girl in the school can have her share in. Of course, that does not cut
out contributions from those who have money to spare; but the new building
must be erected by the efforts of the girls of Briarwood Hall as----"

"As a bunch of briars," chuckled Jennie. "Isn't that a sharp one?"

"Just as sharp as you are, my dear," said Helen.

"You know what that means, Heavy," said Mary Cox. "You're all curves."

"Oh! ouch! I know that hurt me," declared the plump girl, altogether too
good-natured to be offended by anything her mates said to her.

"So that's how it is," Ruth finished "Call the girls together. Put the
idea before them. Let's hear from everybody, and see which girl has the
best thought along this line. We want a way of making money in which
everyone can join."

"I--don't--see," complained Nettie, "how you are going to do it."

"Never mind. Don't worry," said Mercy. "'Great oaks from little acorns
grow,' and a fine idea will sprout from the germ of Ruth's suggestion, I
have no doubt."

It did; but not at all in the way any of them expected. The whole school
was called together after recitations on this afternoon, which was several
days following the fire. The teachers had no part in the assembly, least
of all Mrs. Tellingham.

But the older girls--all of them S.B.'s--were very much in earnest; and
from them the younger pupils, of course, took their cue. The West
Dormitory must be built--and within the time originally specified by Mrs.
Tellingham when she had thought the insurance would fully pay for the work
of reconstruction.

Many girls, it seemed, had already written home begging contributions to
the fund which they expected would be raised for the new building. Some
even were ready to offer money of their very own toward the amount
necessary to start the work.

Even Ruth agreed to this first effort to get money. She pledged a hundred
dollars herself and Nettie Parsons quietly put down the same sum as her
own personal offering.

"Oh, gracious, goodness, me, girls!" gasped Jennie Stone, who had been
figuring desperately upon a sheet of paper. "Wait till I get this sum
done; then I can tell you what I will give. There! Can it be possible?"

"What is it, Jennie?" asked Belle Tingley, looking over her shoulder.
"Why! look at all those figures. Are you weighing the sun or counting the
hairs of the sun-dogs?"

"Don't laugh," begged the plump girl. "This is a serious matter. I've been
figuring up what I should probably have spent for candy from now till June
if I'd been left to my own will."

"What is it, Heavy?" asked somebody. "I wager it would pay for erecting
the new dormitory without the rest of us putting up a cent."

"No," said the plump girl, gravely. "But it figures up to a good round
sum. I never would have believed it! Girls, I'll give fifty dollars."

"Oh, Heavy! you _never_ could eat so much sweets before graduation,"
gasped one.

"I could; but I sha'n't," declared Miss Stone, with continued gravity.
"I'll practise self-denial."

With all the fun and joking, the girls of Briarwood Hall were very much in
earnest. They elected a committee of five--Ruth, Nettie, Lluella, Sarah
Fish and Mary Cox--to have charge of the collection of the fund, and to go
immediately to Mrs. Tellingham and show her what money was already
promised and how much more could be expected within ten days.

There was enough, they knew, to warrant the preceptress in having the work
of tearing away the ruins begun. Meanwhile, the girls were each urged to
think up some new way of earning money, and as a committee of the whole to
try to invent a novel scheme of including the whole school in a plan
whereby much money might be raised.

"How we're to do it, nobody knows," said Helen gloomily, walking along
beside Ruth after the meeting. "I expected _you_ would have just the thing
to suggest."

"I wish I had," her chum returned thoughtfully.

"Mercy says, 'Great oaks from little acorns grow'----"

They turned into the hall and saw that the mail had been distributed. Ruth
was handed a letter with Mr. Hammond's name upon it. She had almost
forgotten the moving picture man and her own scenario, in these three or
four very busy days.

Ruth eagerly tore the envelope open. A green slip of paper fluttered out.
It was a check for twenty-five dollars from the Alectrion Film
Corporation. With it was a note highly praising Ruth's first effort at
scenario writing for moving pictures.

"What is it?" demanded Helen. "You look so funny. There's no--nobody
dead?"

"Do I look like that?" asked Ruth. "Far from it! Just look at these,
dear," and she thrust both the note and the check into Helen's hands. "I
believe I've struck it!"

"Struck what?" demanded her puzzled chum.

"'Great oaks from little acorns grow' sure enough! Eureka! I have it,"
Ruth cried. "I believe I know how we all--every girl in Briarwood--can
help earn the money to rebuild the West Dormitory."

CHAPTER XIII

THE IDEA IS BORN

"What? What? _What_?" Helen cried, as she gazed, wide-eyed, at the check
and at Mr. Hammond's letter.

The check for twenty-five dollars there could be no mistake about; and she
scanned the moving picture man's enthusiastic letter shortly, for it was
brief. But Helen quite misunderstood the well-spring of Ruth's sudden joy.

"Oh, Ruthie Fielding!" she gasped. "What have you done now?" and she
hugged her chum delightedly. "How wonderful! _That_ was the secret between
you and that Mr. Hammond, was it?"

"Yes," admitted Ruth.

"And you've written a _real_ moving picture?"

"That is it--exactly. A _one_ reel picture," and Ruth laughed.

"And he says he will produce it at once," sighed Helen.

"So Mr. Hammond says. It's very nice of him."

"Oh, Ruth!" cried Helen, hugging her again.

"Oh, Helen!" responded Ruth, in sheer delight.

"You're famous--really famous!" said Ruth's chum, with sudden solemnity.

Ruth's clear laughter rang out spontaneously.

"Well, you are!"

"Not yet."

"But you've earned twenty-five dollars writing that play. Only think of
that! And you can give it to the dormitory fund. Is that what you are so
pleased about? Mercy, Ruth! you don't expect us all to set about writing
picture plays and selling them to Mr. Hammond?"

"No," said Ruth, more seriously. "I guess that wouldn't do."

"Then what do you mean about every girl at Briarwood helping in this way
toward the fund?" Helen asked, puzzled. "At any rate, twenty-five dollars
will help."

"But I sha'n't do that!" cried Ruth.

"Sha'n't do what?"

"I shall not give this precious twenty-five dollars to any dormitory
fund--no, indeed!" and Ruth clasped the check to her bosom. "The first
money I ever earned with my pen? I guess not! That twenty-five dollars
goes into the bank, my dear."

"Goodness! You needn't be so emphatic about it," protested Helen.

"I am going to open a special account," said Ruth, proudly. "This will be
credited to the fact that R.F. can actually make something _with her
brains_, my lady. What do you think?"

"But how is it going to help the dormitory fund, then?" demanded her chum.

"Not by adding my poor little twenty-five dollars to it. We want
hundreds--_thousands_! Don't you understand, Helen, that my check would
only be a drop in the bucket? And, anyway, I would come near to starving
before I would use this check."

"We--ell! I don't know that I blame you," sighed her friend. "I'd be as
pleased as Punch if it were mine. Just think of your writing a real moving
picture!" she repeated. "Won't the girls be surprised? And suppose it
comes to Lumberton and we can all go and see it? You _will_ be famous,
Ruth."

"I don't know about that, dear," Ruth returned happily. "There is
something about it all that you don't see yet."

"What's that?"

"This success of mine, I tell you, has given me a great, big idea."

"About what?"

"For the dormitory fund," Ruth said. "Mercy is right. Great oaks _do_ grow
from little acorns."

"Who's denying it?" demanded Helen. "Go on."

"Out of this little idea of mine which I have sold to Mr. Hammond, comes a
thought, dear," said Ruth, solemnly, "that may get us all the money we
need to rebuild the West Dormitory."

"I--don't--just--see----"

"But you will," cried Ruth. "Let me explain. If I can write a one-reel
picture play, why not a long one--a real play--a five-reel drama? I have
just the idea for it--oh, a grand idea!"

"Oh, Ruth!" murmured Helen, clasping her hands.

"I will write the play, we will all act in it, and Mr. Hammond shall
produce it. It can be shown around in every city and town from which we
girls come--our home towns, you know. Folks will want to see us Briarwood
girls acting for the movies--won't they?"

"I should say they would! Fancy our doing that?"

"We can do it. Of course we can! And we'll get a royalty from the film and
that will all go into the dormitory fund," went on the enthusiastic Ruth.

"Oh, my dear!" gasped Helen. "Would Mr. Hammond take such a play if you
wrote it?"

"Of course I don't know. If not he, then some other producer. I _know_ I
have a novel idea," asserted Ruth.

"What is it?" asked the curious Helen.

"A schoolgirl picture, just as I say. Of course, there will have to be
some _real_ actors in it; we girls couldn't be funny enough, or serious
enough, perhaps, to take the most important parts. We could act out some
real scenes of boarding school life, just the same."

"I should say we could!" cried Helen. "Who better? Stage one of our old
midnight sprees, and show Heavy gobbling everything in sight. That would
make 'em laugh."

"But we want more than a comedy," Ruth said seriously. "I have the germ of
an idea in my mind. I'll write Mr. Hammond about it first of all. And we
must have Miss Gray in it."

"He says here," said Helen, glancing through the moving picture man's
letter again, "that he wants you to try another. Oh! and he says that in a
few days he is coming to Lumberton with a company to take some films."

"So he does! Oh, goody!" cried Ruth. "I'll see him, then, and talk right
to him. He is an awfully rich man--so Hazel Gray told me. We'll get him
interested in the dormitory fund, anyway, and then, whether I can write a
five-reel drama well enough or not, maybe he can find somebody who will
put it into shape," Ruth added.

"Why, my dear!" exclaimed her chum, with scorn. "If you have written _one_
moving picture, of course you can another."

Which did not follow at all, Ruth was sure.

"We'll have to ask Mrs. Tellingham," said Helen, with sudden doubt. "Maybe
she will not approve."

"Oh! I hope she will," cried Ruth. "But we must put it up to the girls
themselves, first of all. They must all be in it. All must have an
interest--all must take part. Otherwise it will not accomplish the end we
are after."

"Oh, oh, oh!" cried Helen, finally waking up. "Of course! this is the very
thing you wanted, Ruthie--to give every girl something to do that is
important toward earning the money for the building of the new dormitory."

"That's it, my dear. We all must appear, and do our part. School scenes,
recreation scenes, athletic scenes in the gym; marching in our graduation
procession; initiating candidates into the S.B. sorority; Old Noah's Ark
with the infants arriving at the beginning of the year; the dance we
always have in the big hall at holiday time--just a great, big picture of
what boarding school girls do, and how they live, breathe and have their
being!"

"Oh, jolly!" gasped Helen, taking fire from her friend's enthusiasm. "Say!
the girls are going to be just about crazy over this, Ruth. You will be
the most popular girl in the school."

"I hope not!" gasped Ruth, in real panic. "I'm not doing this for any
such purpose. Don't be singing my praises all the time, Helen. The girls
will get sick and tired to death of hearing about 'wonderful me.' We all
want to do something to help Mrs. Tellingham and the school. That's all
there is to it. Now, _do_ be sensible."

They were not long in taking the girls at large into their confidence.
When it was known that Ruth Fielding had actually written one scenario for
a film, which had been accepted, paid for, and would be produced,
naturally the enthusiasm over the idea of having a reproduction of school
life at Briarwood filmed, became much greater than it might otherwise have
been. As a whole, the girls of Briarwood Hall were in a mood to work
together for the fund.

"No misunderstandings," said Jennie Stone, firmly. "We don't want to make
the sort of mistake the rural constable did when he came along by the
riverside and saw a face floating on the water. 'Come out o' that!' he
says. 'You know there ain't no bathing allowed around here.' And the face
in the water answered: 'Excuse me, officer; I'm not bathing--I'm only
drowning!'

"We've all got to pull together," the plump girl continued, very much in
earnest. "No hanging back--no squabbling over little things. If Ruth
Fielding can write a picture play we must all do our prettiest in acting
in it. Why! I'd play understudy to a baby elephant in a circus for the
sake of helping build the new dormitory."

Already Mrs. Tellingham and the doctor had been informed by the girls'
executive committee of the sums both actually raised by the girls, and
promised, toward the dormitory fund. It had warranted the good lady's
signing contracts for the removal of the wreckage of the burned building,
at least. The way would soon be cleared for beginning work on a new
structure.

Offers of money came pouring in from the parents interested in the success
of Briarwood Hall; and some of the checks already received by Mrs.
Tellingham were for substantial sums. But this proposal of Ruth's for all
the girls to help in the increase of the fund, pleased Mrs. Tellingham
more than anything else.

She read Ruth's brief sketch of the plot she had originated for the school
play, and approved it. "The Heart of a Schoolgirl" was forthwith put into
shape to show Mr. Hammond when he came to Lumberton, that event being
expected daily.

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