Ruth Fielding in Moving Pictures by Alice Emerson

A >> Alice Emerson >> Ruth Fielding in Moving Pictures

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

About this time the girls of Briarwood Hall were so excited and interested
over the moving picture idea that they scarcely had time for their studies
and usual work.

CHAPTER XIV

AT MRS. SADOC SMITH'S

Mrs Tellingham, wise in the ways of girls, had foreseen the excitement and
disturbance in the placid current of Briarwood life, and made plans
following the fire to counteract the evil influences of just this
disturbance. The girls who hoped to graduate from the school in the coming
June must have more quiet--must have time to study and to think.

The younger girls, if they fell behind in their work, could make it up in
the coming terms. Not so Ruth Fielding and her friends, so the wise school
principal had distributed them, after the destruction of the West
Dormitory, in such manner that they would be free from the hurly-burly of
the general school life.

A few, like Mercy Curtis (who could not easily walk back and forth from
any outside lodging), Mrs. Tellingham kept in her own apartment. But the
greater number of the graduating class was distributed among neighbors
who--in most cases--were not averse to accepting good pay for rooms which
could only be let to summer boarders and were, at this time of year, never
occupied.

The Briarwood Hall preceptress allowed her girls to go only where she
could trust the land-ladies to have some oversight over their lodgers. And
the girls themselves were bound in honor to obey the rules of the school,
whether on the Briarwood premises or not.

Visiting among the outside scholars was forbidden, and the girls studying
for graduation had their hours more to themselves than they would have had
in the school.

Special chums were able to keep together in most instances. Ruth, Helen
and Ann Hicks went to live at Mrs. Sadoc Smith's; and there was room in
the huge front room on the second floor of her rambling old house, for
Mercy, too, had it been wise for the lame girl to lodge so far from the
school.

Mrs. Smith got the girls up in season in the morning to reach the dining
hall at Briarwood by breakfast-time; and she saw to it, likewise, that
their light went out at ten o'clock in the evening. These were her
instructions from Mrs. Tellingham, and Mrs. Sadoc Smith was rather a grim
person, who did her duty and obeyed the law.

There being an extra couch, Ruth persuaded her friends to agree to the
coming of a fourth girl into the lodging. And this fourth girl, oddly
enough, was not one of the graduating class, or even one of the girls
whom they had chummed with before.

It was the new girl, Amy Gregg! Amy Gregg, whom nobody seemed to want, and
who seemed to be the loneliest figure and the most sullen girl who had
ever come to Briarwood Hall!

"Of course, you'd pick up some sore-eyed kitten," complained Ann Hicks.
"That child has a fully-developed grouch against the whole world, I verily
believe. What do you want her for, Ruthie?"

"I don't want her," said Ruth promptly.

"Well! of all the girls!" gasped Helen. "Then _why_ ask Mrs. Tellingham to
let her come here?"

"Because she ought to be with somebody who will look out for her," Ruth
said.

She did not tell her mates about it, but Ruth had heard some whispers
regarding the origin of the fire that had burned down the West Dormitory,
and she was afraid Amy would be suspected.

The older girl had reason to know that Mrs. Tellingham had questioned Amy
regarding the candle she had obtained from Miss Scrimp's store. The girl
had emphatically denied having left the candle burning on leaving her room
to go to supper on the fatal evening.

The girls had begun, after a time, to ask questions about the origin of
the fire. They knew it had started on the side of the corridor where Amy
Gregg had roomed. They might soon suspect the truth.

"If they do, good-bye to all little Gregg's peace of mind!" Ruth thought,
for she knew just how cruel girls can be, and Amy did not readily make
friends.

Although Ruth and her room-mates tried to make the flaxen-haired girl feel
at home at Mrs. Sadoc Smith's, Amy remained sullen, and seemed afraid of
the older girls. She was particularly unpopular, too, because she was the
only girl who had refused to write home to tell of the fire and ask for a
contribution to the dormitory fund.

Amy Gregg seemed to be afraid to talk of the fire and refused to give even
a dollar toward the rebuilding of the dormitory. "It isn't _my_ fault that
the old thing burned down. I lost all my clothes and books," she
announced. "I think the school ought to pay _me_ some money, instead."

After saying this before her room-mates at Mrs. Smith's, all but Ruth
dropped her.

"Sullen little thing," said Helen, with disgust.

"Not worth bothering with," rejoined Ann.

The only person to whom Amy Gregg seemed to take a fancy was Mrs. Smith's
scapegrace grandson, Henry. Henry was the wildest boy there was anywhere
about Briarwood Hall. He was always getting into trouble, and his
grandmother was forever chastising him in one way or another.

Nobody in the neighborhood knew him as "Henry." He was called "that Smith
boy" by the grown folk; by his mates he was known as "Curly."

Ruth felt that Curly never would have developed into such a mischievous
and wayward youth had it not been for his grandmother.

When a little boy Henry had come to live with Mrs. Sadoc Smith. Mrs. Smith
did not like boys and she kept Henry in kilts until he was of an age when
most lads are looking forward to long trousers. She made him wear
Fauntleroy suits and kept his hair in curls down his back--molasses
colored curls that disgusted the boy mightily. Finally he hired another
boy for ten cents and a glass agate to cut the curls off close to his
head, and he stole a pair of long trousers, a world too wide for him, from
a neighbor's line. He then set out on his travels, going in an empty
freight car from the Lumberton railroad yards.

But he was caught and brought back, literally "by the scruff of his neck;"
and his grandmother was never ending in her talk about the escapade. The
curls remained short, however. If she refused to give Curly twenty cents
occasionally to have his hair cut, he would stick burrs or molasses taffy
in the hair so that it had to be kept short.

There seemed an affinity between this scapegrace lad and Amy Gregg. Not
that she possessed any abundance of spirit; but she would listen to Curly
romance about his adventures by the hour, and he could safely confide all
his secrets to Amy Gregg. Wild horses would not have drawn a word from her
as to his intentions, or what mischief he had already done.

Curly was a tall, thin boy of fifteen, wiry and strong, and with a face as
smooth and pink-and-white as a girl's. That he was so girlish looking was
a sore subject with the boy, and whenever any unwise boy called him
"Girly" instead of "Curly" it started a fight, there and then.

Henry was forbidden by his grandmother to bother the girls from Briarwood
Hall in any way, and to make sure that he played no tricks upon them, when
Ruth and her mates came to the house to lodge, Mrs. Smith housed Curly in
a little, steep-roofed room over the summer kitchen.

It was a cold and uncomfortable place, he told Amy Gregg. Ruth heard him
tell her so, but judged that it would not be wise to beg Mrs. Smith for
other quarters for her grandson. She was not a woman to whom one could
easily give advice--especially one of Ruth's age and inexperience.

Mrs. Smith was a very grim looking woman with a false front of little,
corkscrew curls, the color of which did not at all match the iron-gray of
her hair. That the curls were made of Mrs. Smith's own hair, cropped from
her head many years before, there could be no doubt. It Nature had erred
in turning her actual hair to iron-gray in these, her later years, that
was Nature's fault, not Mrs. Smith's!

She grimly ignored the parti-colored hair as she did the natural
exuberance of her grandson's spirit. If Nature had given him an
unquenchable amount of mirth and jollity, that, too, was Nature's fault.
Still, Mrs. Sadoc Smith proposed to quell that mirth and suppress the joy
of Curly's nature if possible.

The only question was: In the process of making Curly over to fit her
ideas of what a boy should be, was not Mrs. Smith running a grave chance
of ruining the boy entirely?

And what boy, living in a house with four girls, could keep from trying to
play tricks upon them? If the shed-chamber had been a mile away over the
roofs of the Smith house, Curly would have been tempted to creep over the
shingles to one of the windows of the big front room, and----

Nine o'clock at night. All four of the girls quartered with Mrs. Smith
were busy with their books--even flaxen-haired Amy Gregg. The rustle of
turning leaves and a sigh of weariness now and then was all that had
broken the silence for half an hour.

Outside, the wind moaned in the trees. It was cold and the sky was
overcast with the promise of a stormy morrow. Suddenly Helen started and
glanced hastily at the window behind her, where the shade was drawn.

"What's that?" she whispered.

"Huh?" said Ann.

"I didn't hear anything," Ruth added.

Not a word from Amy Gregg, who likewise appeared to be deeply immersed in
her book.

Another silence; then both Ruth and Helen jumped. "I declare! Is that a
bird or a beast?" Helen demanded.

"What is it?" cried Ann, starting up.

"Somebody rapping on that window," Ruth declared.

"This far up from the ground? Nonsense!" exclaimed the bold Ann, and
marched to the casement and ran up the shade.

They could see nothing. There was no light in the roadway before the
house. Ann opened the window and leaned out.

"Nobody down there throwing up gravel, that's sure," she declared, drawing
in her head again, and shutting the window.

Just as they returned to their books the scratching, squeaking noise broke
out again. This time Ruth ran to see.

"Nothing!" she confessed.

"What do you suppose it can be?" asked Helen nervously. "I declare, I
can't study any more. That gets on my nerves."

Mrs. Smith put in her head at that moment. "Of course you haven't seen
that boy, any of you?" she asked sharply.

The three older girls looked at each other; Amy Gregg continued to pore
over her book. No; Ruth, Helen and Ann could honestly tell Mrs. Smith that
they had not seen Curly.

"Well, the young rascal has slipped out. I went up to his door to take him
some clothes I had mended, and he didn't answer. So I opened the door, and
his bed hasn't been touched, and he went up an hour ago. He's slipped out
over the shed roof, for his window's open; though I don't see how he dared
drop to the ground. It's twenty feet if it's an inch," Mrs. Smith said
sternly.

"I shall wait up for him and catch him when he comes back. I'll learn him
to go out nights without me knowin' of it."

She went away, stepping wrathfully. "Goodness! I'm sorry for that boy,"
said Ann, beginning leisurely to prepare for bed.

But Ruth watched Amy Gregg curiously. She saw the smaller girl flush and
pale and glance now and then toward the window. Ruth jumped to a sudden
conclusion. Curly was somewhere outside that window on the roof!

CHAPTER XV

A DAWNING POSSIBILITY

"Well, the evening's spoiled anyway," yawned Helen, seeing Ann braiding
her hair. "I might as well stop, too," and she closed her books with
relief.

"It's time small girls were on their way to the Land of Nod," said the
Western girl, taking the book from the resisting hand of Amy Gregg.
"Hullo! it's time _you_ were in bed, girlie, sure enough. Holding the book
upside down, no less! What do you know about that, ladies?"

"Certainly she should go to bed," Helen said sharply. "We're all sleepy.
Do hurry, child."

"Speak for yourself, Helen," snapped Amy. "I don't have to mind _you_, I
hope."

"You do if you want to get anywhere in this school--and mind every other
senior who is kind enough to notice you," said Ann. "You've not learned
that lesson yet."

"And I don't believe _you_ can teach me," responded the younger girl,
ready to quarrel with anybody. "Give me back my book!"

Ruth went to her and put her arm around Amy's neck. "Don't, dear, be so
fractious," she begged. "We had all to go through a process of 'fagging'
when we first came to Briarwood. It is good for us--part of the
discipline. I asked Mrs. Tellingham to let you come over here with us so
that you really would not be put upon----"

"I don't thank you!" snapped Amy, ungratefully. "I can look out for
myself, I guess. I always have."

"You're like the self-made man," drawled Ann. "You've made an awfully poor
job of it! You need a little discipline, my dear."

"Not from you!" cried the other girl, her eyes flashing.

It took Ruth several minutes to quiet this sea of trouble. It was half an
hour before Amy cried herself to sleep on her couch. The other girls had
both crept into bed and called to Ruth sleepily to put out the light. Ruth
was not undressed; but she did as they requested.

Then she went to the window and opened it. Nothing had been heard from
above since Mrs. Smith had looked in at the chamber door. But Ruth was
sure the grim old woman was waiting at her grandson's window, in the cold
shed bedroom, ready for Curly when he came in.

And Ruth was sure, too, that the boy had not dropped to the ground. _He
was still on the roof_.

"That was a tictac," Ruth told herself. She had heard Tom Cameron's too
many times to mistake the sound. "And Amy was expecting it. Curly had told
her what he was going to do. And now what will that reckless boy do, with
his grandmother waiting for him and every other window in the house
locked?"

"What are you doing there, Ruthie?" grumbled Ann. "O-o-oh! it's cold," and
she drew her comforter up around her shoulders and the next moment she was
asleep.

Helen never lay awake after her head touched the pillow, so Ruth did not
look for any questioning on her chum's part. And Amy had already wept
herself unhappily into dreamland.

"Poor kiddie!" thought Ruth, casting a commiserating glance again at Amy.
"And now for this silly boy. If the girls knew what I was going to do
they'd have a spasm, I expect," and she chuckled.

She leaned far out of the open window again, and, sitting on the
window-sill, turned her body so as to look up the slant of the steep roof.

"Curly!" she called softly. No answer. "Curly Smith!" she raised her voice
decisively. "If you don't come here I'll call your grandmother."

A figure appeared slowly from behind a chimney. Even at that distance Ruth
could see the figure shiver.

"Wha--what do you want?" asked the boy, shakingly.

"Come here, you silly boy!" commanded Ruth. "Do you want to get your death
of cold?"

"I--I----"

"Come down here at once! And don't fall, for pity's sake," was Ruth's
warning, as the boy's foot slipped. "My goodness! you haven't any shoes
on--and no cap--and just that thin coat. Curly Smith! you'll be down sick
after this."

"I'll be sick if Gran' catches me," admitted the boy. "She's layin' for me
at my window."

"I know," said Ruth, as the boy crept closer.

"You telltale girls told her, of course," growled the boy.

"We did not. Ann and Helen don't know. Amy is scared, but she's gone to
sleep. _She_ wouldn't tell."

"How did Gran' know, then?" demanded Curly, coming closer.

Ruth told him. The boy was both ashamed of his predicament and frightened.

"How can I get in, Ruth? I'd like to sneak downstairs into the sitting
room and lie down by the sitting room fire and get warm."

"You shall. Come in this way," commanded Ruth. "But, for pity's sake,
don't fall!"

"She'll find it out and lick me worse," said Curly, doubtfully.

"She won't. The girls are asleep, I tell you."

"Well, _you_ know it, don't you?" demanded Curly, with desperation.

"Curly Smith! If you think I'd tell on you, you deserve to stay out here
on this roof and freeze," declared Ruth, in anger.

"Oh, say! don't get mad," said Curly, fearing that she would leave him as
she intimated.

"Come on, then--and whisper. Not a sound when you get in the room. And for
pity's sake, Curly Smith--don't fall!"

"Not going to," growled the boy. "Look out and let me swing down to that
window-sill. Ugh! I 'most slipped then. Look out!"

Ruth wriggled back into the room and almost immediately Curly's unshod
feet appeared on the sill. She grasped his ankles firmly.

"Come in!" she whispered. "That's the boy! Quick, now!"

All this in low whispers. The girls did not stir, and Ruth had no light.
She could barely see the figure of the boy between her and the gray light
out-of-doors.

Curly dropped softly into the room. Ruth led him by the hand to the door,
which she opened softly. The hall was pitch dark, too.

"You're all right, Ruthie Fielding!" he muttered, as he passed her and
stepped into the hall. "I won't forget this."

Ruth thought it might be a warning to him. In the morning his grandmother
admitted having found the boy curled up in a rug and asleep before the
sitting-room fire.

"An' I thought he was out o' doors all the time," she said. "I ought to
punish him, anyway, I s'pose, for scaring me so."

Ruth Fielding spent all her spare time (and that was not much, for her
studies were just then very engrossing) in planning and sketching out the
five-reel drama in which she hoped to interest Mr. Hammond, head of the
Alectrion Film Corporation. She called up the Lumberton Hotel every day to
learn if the film company had arrived.

At length the clerk told her Mr. Hammond himself had come, and expected
his company the next day. Mr. Hammond was near and was soon speaking to
the girl of the Red Mill over the telephone.

"Is this the famous authoress of 'Curiosity?'" asked Mr. Hammond,
laughing. "I have received your signed contract and acceptance, and the
scenario is already in rehearsal. I hope everything is perfectly
satisfactory, Miss Fielding?"

"Oh, Mr. Hammond! I'm not joking. I want to see you very, very much."

"About 'Curiosity?'"

"Oh, no, sir! I'm very grateful to you for taking that and paying me for
it, as I told you," Ruth said. "But this is something different--and much
more important. _When_ can I see you?"

"Any time after breakfast and before bedtime, my dear," Mr. Hammond
assured her. "Do you want to come to town, or shall I come to Briarwood
Hall?"

"If you would come here you could see Mrs. Tellingham, too, and that would
be lots better," Ruth assured him.

"The principal of your school?" he asked, in surprise.

"Yes, Mr. Hammond. One of our buildings has burned down----"

"Oh! I saw that in the paper," interposed the gentleman. "It is too bad."

"It is tragic!" declared Ruth, earnestly. "There was no insurance, and all
us girls want to help build a new dormitory. I have a plan--and _you_ can
help----"

"We--ell," said Mr. Hammond, doubtfully. "How much does this mean?"

"I don't know. If the idea is as good as I think it is, Mr. Hammond," Ruth
told him, placidly, "you will make a lot of money, and so will Briarwood
Hall."

"Hullo!" ejaculated the gentleman. "You expect to show me how to make some
money? I thought you wanted a contribution."

"No. It is a bona fide scheme for making money," laughed Ruth. "Do run out
sometime to-day and let me talk you into it. You shall meet Mrs.
Tellingham, too."

The gentleman promised, and kept the promise promptly. He heard Ruth's
idea, approved of it with enthusiasm, and went over with her the briefly
outlined sketch for "The Heart of a Schoolgirl." He was able to suggest a
number of important changes in Ruth's plan, and his ideas were all helpful
and put with tact. Mr. Hammond and Mrs. Tellingham came to an
understanding and made a written agreement, too.

Many of the pictures were to be taken at Briarwood Hall. Mrs. Tellingham,
on behalf of the dormitory fund, was to have a certain interest in the
profits of the production. These legal and technical matters Ruth had
nothing to do with. She was able, with an untrammeled mind, to go on with
the actual work of writing the scenario.

CHAPTER XVI

THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG

Those were really strenuous days indeed for Ruth Fielding and her friends
at Briarwood Hall. The class that looked forward to graduating in June was
exceedingly busy.

Had Mrs. Tellingham not made an equitable arrangement in regard to Ruth's
English studies, allowing her credits on her writing, the girl of the Red
Mill would never have found time for the writing of the scenario which all
hoped would ultimately bring a large sum into the dormitory fund.

With faith in her pupil's ability as a writer for the screen, Mrs.
Tellingham had gone on with the work of clearing away the ruins of the
burned building, and had given out contracts for the construction of the
new dormitory on the site of the old one.

The sums already gathered from voluntary contributions paid the bills as
the work went along; but in "The Heart of a Schoolgirl" must lie the
earning power to carry the work to completion.

As each girl of the senior class had special work in English of an
original nature, Mrs. Tellingham announced that Ruth's scenario should
count as her special thesis.

"We will let Mr. Hammond judge it, my dear," the principal said to Ruth.
She was already proud of the girl's achievement in writing "Curiosity,"
for she had now read that first scenario. "If Mr. Hammond declares that
your drama is worthy of production, you shall be marked 'perfect' in your
original English work. That, I am sure, is fair."

In spite of all the studying she had to do, and her work on the scenario
of the five-reel drama, Ruth found time to look after Amy Gregg. Not that
the latter thanked her--far from it! Ruth, however, did what she thought
to be her duty toward the younger girl.

Once Jennie Stone hinted that she suspected Amy of starting the dormitory
fire, but Ruth stopped her with:

"Be careful what you say, Jennie Stone. I am sure you would not want to
set the other girls against little Gregg. She's apt to have a hard time
enough here at Briarwood, at best."

"Her own fault," declared the plump girl.

"Her unfortunate nature, I grant you," said Ruth, shaking her head. "But
don't say anything to make it worse. You'd be sorry, you know."

"Huh! If she deserves to have it known that the fire started in her
room----"

"But you don't know that!" again interrupted Ruth. "And if it chanced to
be so, that's all the more reason why you should not suggest it to the
other girls."

"Goodness, Ruth! you are so funny."

"Then laugh at me," responded Ruth, smiling. "I don't mind."

"Pshaw!" said Jennie. "There's no getting ahead of you. You're just like
the little kid I heard of who was entertaining some other little girls at
a nursery tea. 'My little sister is only five months old,' says one little
girl, 'and she has two teeth.'

"'My little sister is only six months old,' spoke up another guest, 'and
she's got three teeth.'

"The other kiddie was silent for a moment; she wanted to be polite, but
she couldn't let the others put it over her like that! So finally she
bursts out with:

"'Well, my little sister hasn't any teef yet; but when she _does_ have
some, they're goin' to be gold ones!' Couldn't get ahead of her--and
nobody can get the best of _you_, Ruthie Fielding! You've always an answer
ready."

At Mrs. Sadoc Smith's, Amy Gregg had just as little to do with the three
older girls as she possibly could; but she remained friends with Curly.
She was his confidant, and although Curly considered Ruth about the
finest girl "who ever walked down the pike," as he expressed it, he felt
in no awe of Amy Gregg and treated her more as he would another boy.

All was not plain sailing for Ruth in either her studies or in the writing
of the scenario for "The Heart of a Schoolgirl." The coming examinations
in all branches would be difficult, and unless she obtained a certain
average in all, Ruth could not expect a diploma.

A diploma from Briarwood Hall was an entrance certificate to the college
in which she and Helen hoped to continue their education the following
autumn. And Ruth did not want to spend her summer in making up conditions.
She wished to graduate in her class with a high grade.

It was a foregone conclusion in her mind that Mercy Curtis was to bear off
the highest honor. Nor had she forgotten that she must invent (if nobody
else could) a way for Mercy to speak the principal oration on graduation
day.

Her powers of invention, however, were taxed to their utmost just now as
she wrote the scenario of the picture drama. Before Mr. Hammond and the
Alectrion Company left Lumberton, Ruth was able to get into town with the
draft of the first part of the play, and read it to Mr. Hammond.

Miss Hazel Gray was present at the reading, and Ruth had given that
pretty young girl a very good part indeed in the new film.

"You _dear_!" whispered Hazel, her arms around Ruth, and speaking to her
softly, "I believe I have you to thank for much further consideration from
Mr. Hammond. And you have given me a delightful part in this play you are
writing. What a really wonderful child you are Ruth Fielding!"

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10