RICE AND OLD SHOES
"It is the greatest day in a girl's life," declared Helen Cameron,
sitting on the edge of one of the twin beds in the room she and Ruth
occupied while they were at the Stone house. She buckled her fingers
around her knee to hold one limb crossed over the other--a very mannish
and independent position. "I don't know that I ever envied Heavy before
in my life. But she has got something now that we haven't, Ruth."
"Cat's foot!" exclaimed Ann Hicks from her chair. "Who'd want a Frenchman
for a husband?"
Ruth laughed. "Not to say that Major Marchand is not a fine fellow, I
agree with Ann that I don't want a husband. Not--right--now!"
"Oh! Very well," said Helen complacently. "But if you thought you'd never
be able to get one----"
"Shucks!" exclaimed Ann. "As though our Ruth couldn't have all she wants
if she wants them."
"I really wish you would not speak plurally of them, Ann," cried Ruth,
laughing. "You will make me feel like the Queen of the Amazons. They say
she keeps a masculine harem--like a bey, or a sultan, or something of
that kind."
"Be serious," rejoined Helen. "I mean what I say. Jennie's great day has
arrived. And she is the first of all our old bunch that went to
Briarwood--and surely of those who went to Ardmore College--to fetter
herself to a man for life."
"Well, I shall never be fettered, even if I am married," observed Ann.
"I'd like to see myself!"
"If the right man comes riding by, Ann, even you will change your mind,"
Ruth said softly.
"Then I suppose the right man has never ridden up to the Red Mill and
asked for you?" demanded Helen, with a glance at her chum that was rather
piercing.
"Perhaps he has," said Ruth composedly, "but I wasn't at home. Aunt
Alvirah thinks I am almost never at home. And, girls, as I told you
yesterday, I am going soon on another journey."
"Oh, Ruth, I've been thinking of that!" Helen rejoined, with a sudden
access of interest and excitement. "To the Thousand Islands! And at the
loveliest time of all the year up there."
"And that is only the truth," said one of the other bridesmaids. "We
spent last summer there."
"The Copleys always go," Helen remarked quietly.
"No! Do you mean it?" cried Ruth, showing some surprise. "Well, indeed."
"So you will see a lot more of 'Lasses Copley," remarked Ann.
"I shall be glad if Chess Copley is there when and where we make this
picture, for I think he is very nice," was Ruth's composed reply.
"Oh, he's nice enough," agreed Helen, rather grumblingly however. "I've
got nothing to say against Chess--as a general thing."
"And you don't seem to say much for him," put in the Western girl
curiously.
But Helen said nothing further on that topic. Ruth broke in, answering
one of the other girls who spoke of the forthcoming picture Ruth was
going to make for the Alectrion Corporation.
"Of course our famous Wonota is going to be in the picture. For she is
famous already. 'Brighteyes' appeared for two successive weeks in one of
the big Broadway picture houses and we are making a lot of money out of
its distribution.
"But we know Wonota is a find for another very unmistakable reason," she
added.
"What is that?" asked Helen.
"Other producers have begun to make Wonota and her father offers. For
Chief Totantora has become interested in the movie business too. Mr.
Hammond used Totantora in a picture he made in Oklahoma in the spring;
one in which Wonota did not appear. She was off at school at the time. We
are going to make of the princess a cultivated and cultured young lady
before we get through with her," and Ruth laughed.
"A Red Indian!" cried somebody.
"That makes no difference," said Ruth placidly. "She is amenable to white
customs, and is really a very smart girl. And she has a lovely
disposition."
"Especially," put in Helen, who remembered the occasion clearly, "when
she wanted to shoot Dakota Joe Fenbrook when he treated her so unkindly
in his Wild West show. But, I wanted to shoot him myself," she added,
frankly. "Especially after he tried to hurt Ruth."
"Never mind him," said her chum at that. "Joe Fenbrook is in the
penitentiary now, and he is not bothering us. But other people are
bothering Mr. Hammond about Wonota."
"How?" asked Helen.
"Why, as I said, there are other picture producers who have seen
'Brighteyes' and would like to get the chief and his daughter under
contract. They have told Totantora that, as the contract with his
daughter was made while she was not of age, it can be broken. Of course,
the Indian agent agreed to the contract; but after Totantora returned
from Europe, where he had been held a prisoner in Germany during the war,
the guardianship of Wonota reverted to her father once more.
"It is rather a complicated matter," went on Ruth, "and it is giving Mr.
Hammond and his lawyers some trouble. There is a man named Bilby, who has
been a picture producer in a small way, who seems to have some influence
with the head of the Government Bureau of Indian Affairs. He seems to
have financial backing, too, and claims to have secured a series of
stories in which Wonota might be featured to advantage. And he certainly
has offered Totantora and the girl much more money than Mr. Hammond would
be willing to risk in a star who may, after all, prove merely a flash in
the pan."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Ann. "I thought she was a sure-fire
hit."
"No amateur screen actress--and that is all Wonota is as yet--is ever a
'sure-fire hit', as you call it," said the practical Ruth. "Many a
producer has been badly bitten by tying up a new actor or actress to a
long-time contract. Because a girl films well and is successful in one
part, is not an assurance that she can learn to be a really great actress
before the camera.
"In 'Brighteyes' Wonota merely played herself. I was successful in
fitting my story to her individuality. But she cannot always play the
same part. In this story we are about to do on the St. Lawrence, she will
be called upon to delineate a character quite different from that of the
heroine of 'Brighteyes.'"
"Dear me, Ruth," sighed Helen, "what a business woman you are getting to
be. Your career has really begun--and so promisingly. While I can't do a
thing but play the fiddle a little, daub a little at batik, and crochet!"
"And make most delightful fudge!" cried Jennie Stone, just then coming
into the room in her traveling dress, fresh from the hands of her maid
and Aunt Kate. "How do I look, girls?"
The bride's appearance drove everything else out of her friends' minds
for the time being. It was two o'clock and the automobiles were at the
door. The bridal couple, attended by bridesmaids, the best man, the
ushers, and other close friends, departed for the dock amid showers of
rice and a bombardment of old shoes which littered Madison Avenue for
half a block and kept even the policemen on special duty for the
occasion, dodging!
They all trooped aboard the steamship where arrangements had been made to
have the passports of the bride and groom examined.
Mr. Stone had done everything well, as he always did. The bridal suite
was banked with flowers. Even the orchestra belonging to the ship had
been engaged specially to play. A second, though brief, reception was
held here.
The ship's siren sent a stuttering blast into the air that seemed to
shake the skyscrapers opposite the dock. The young folks trooped back to
the pier. Tom did his best to escort Ruth; but to his amazement and anger
Chess Copley pushed in front of him and Ruth took the sergeant's arm.
Helen came along and grabbed her brother with a fierce little pinch. Her
eyes sparkled while his smouldered.
"I guess we are relegated to the second row, Tommy-boy," she whispered.
"I do not see what has got into Ruth."
"It's not Ruth. The gall of that 'Lasses!" muttered the slangy Tom.
"So you think he is at fault?" rejoined his sister. "Oh, Tommy-boy! you
do not know 'us girls'--no indeed you do not."
It was a gay enough party on the dock that watched the big ship back out
and being turned in the stream by the fussy tugs. The bride and groom
shouted until they were hoarse, and waved their hands and handkerchiefs
as long as they could be seen from the dock.
If Helen and Tom Cameron were either, or both, offended by Ruth, they did
not show it to the general company. As for the girl of the Red Mill, she
enjoyed herself immensely; and she particularly liked Chess Copley's
company.
It was not that she felt any less kindly toward Tom; but Tom had
disappointed her. He seemed to have changed greatly during this past
winter while she had been so busy with her moving pictures.
Instead of settling down with his father in the offices of the great
drygoods house from which Mr. Cameron's fortune had come, Tom, abetted by
Helen, had become almost a social butterfly in New York.
But Chess Copley, although no sober-sides, had thrown himself heart and
soul into the real estate business and had already made a tidy sum during
the six months that had ensued since his discharge from the army.
It was true, Chess was looking forward to taking a vacation at the
Thousand Islands with his family. He told Ruth so with enthusiasm, and
hoped to see her again at that resort. But Chess, Ruth felt, had earned
his vacation, while Tom remained a mere idler.
Chess accompanied the Cheslow young people to the Grand Central Terminal
when they left the dock and there bade Ruth good-bye.
"I shall see you in a fortnight at the Thousand Islands," he assured her,
and shook hands again. "I shall look forward to it, believe me!"
Tom hung about, gloomy enough, even after they boarded the train. But the
girls were gay and chattering when they entered their compartment. Ann
Hicks was going home with Helen for a brief visit, although she would be
unable to go elsewhere with them during the early part of the summer,
owing to previous engagements.
"I am determined to go to the St. Lawrence with you, Ruth," declared
Helen. "And I know Tommy-boy is aching to go."
"I thought," said Ruth rather gravely, "that he might really take to
business this summer. Doesn't your father need him?"
"Plenty of time for work, Tommy thinks," rejoined Tom's sister gaily.
But Ruth did not smile.