AT THE RED MILL
Helen, greatly excited, stood on the seat of the tonneau and cheered her
brother on at the top of her voice. That, in her excitement, she thought
she was "rooting" at a basket-ball game at Briarwood, was not to be
wondered at. Ruth heard her chum screaming:
"S.B.--Ah-h-h!
S.B.--Ah-h-h
Sound our battle-cry
Near and far!
S.B.--All!
Briarwood Hall!
Sweetbriars, do or die----
This be our battle-cry----
Briarwood Hall!
_That's All!_"
At the very moment the excited Helen brought out the "snapper" of the
rallying cry of their own particular Briarwood sorority, Ruth let the limb
go, for Tom had seized the sinking actress by the shoulder.
"He's got her!" the men shouted in chorus.
"And that's all those fellows were," Ruth said afterwards, in some
contempt. "Just a _chorus_! They were a lot of tabby-cats--afraid to wet
their precious feet. If it hadn't been for Tom, Miss Gray would have been
drowned before the eyes of that mean director and those other imitation
men. Ugh! I de-_test_ a coward!"
This was said later, however. Until they drew Tom and his fainting burden
ashore, neither Ruth nor Helen had time for criticism. Then they bundled
Hazel Gray in the automobile rugs, while Tom struggled into an overcoat
and cranked up the machine. The director came to inquire:
"What are you going to do with that girl?"
"Take her to the Red Mill," snapped Ruth. "That's down the river, opposite
the road to Cheslow. And don't try to see her before to-morrow. No thanks
to _you_ that she isn't drowned."
"You are a very impudent young lady," growled the director.
"I may be a plain spoken one," said Ruth, not at all alarmed by the man's
manner. "I don't know how you would have felt had Miss Gray been drowned.
I should think you would think of _that_!"
But the man seemed more disturbed about the delay to the picture that was
being taken.
"I shall expect you to be ready bright and early in the morning, Miss
Gray!" he shouted as the automobile moved off. The young actress, half
fainting in the tonneau between the Briarwood Hall girls, did not hear
him.
It was several miles to the Red Mill, and Ruth, worried, said: "I'm afraid
Tom will catch cold, Helen."
"And--and this po--poor girl, too," stammered Tom's sister, as the car
jounced over a particularly rough piece of road.
Hazel Gray opened her eyes languidly, murmuring: "I shall be all right,
thank you! Just drive to the hotel----"
"What hotel?" asked Ruth, laughing.
"In Cheslow. I don't know the name of it," whispered Hazel Gray. "Is there
more than one?"
"There is; but you'll not go all the way to Cheslow in your condition,"
declared Ruth. "We're taking you to the Red Mill. Now! no objections,
please. Hurry up, Tommy."
"But I am all wet," protested the girl.
"I should say you were," gasped Helen.
"Nobody knows better than I," said Ruth, "that the water of the Lumano
river is at least _damp_, at all seasons."
"I will make you a lot of trouble," objected Miss Gray.
"No, you won't," the girl of the Red Mill repeated. "Aunt Alvirah will
snuggle you down between soft, fluffy blankets, and give you hot boneset
tea, or 'composition,' and otherwise coddle you. To-morrow morning you
will feel like a new girl."
"Oh, dear!" groaned Miss Gray. "I wish I _were_ a new girl."
A very few minutes later they came in sight of the Red Mill, with the
rambling, old, story-and-a-half dwelling beside it, in which Jabez
Potter's grandfather had been born. Although the leaves had long since
fallen from the trees, and the lawn was brown, the sloping front yard of
the Potter house was very attractive. The walks were swept, the last dead
leaf removed, and the big stones at the main gateway were dazzlingly
white-washed.
The jar and rumble of the grist-mill, and the trickle of the water on the
wheel, made a murmurous accompaniment to all the other sounds of life
about the place. From the rear of the old house fowls cackled, a mule sent
his clarion call across the fields, and hungry pigs squealed their prayer
for supper. A cow lowed impatiently at the pasture bars in answer to the
querulous blatting of her calf.
Tom was going on home to change his clothes; but when Ruth saw the fringe
of icicles around the bottoms of his trouser legs, she would not hear to
it.
"You come right in with us, Tom. Helen will drive the car home and get you
a change of clothing. Meanwhile you can put on some of Uncle Jabez's old
clothes. Hurry on, now, children!" and she laughingly drove Tom and Hazel
Gray before her to the porch of the old house, where Aunt Alvirah, having
heard the automobile, met them in amazement.
"What forever has happened, my pretty?" cried the little old lady, whose
bent back and rheumatic limbs made her seem even smaller than she
naturally was. "In the river? Do come in! Bring the young lady right into
the best room, Ruthie. You strip off right before the kitchen fire, Master
Tom. I'll bring you some things to put on. There's a huck towel on the
nail yonder. Oh, my back! and oh, my bones!"
Thus talking, Aunt Alvirah hobbled ahead into the sitting room. The girl
who had fallen into the river was now shivering. Ruth and the old lady
undressed her as quickly as possible, and Aunt Alvirah made ready the bed
with the "fluffy" blankets in the chamber right off the sitting room.
"Do get one of your nighties for her, my pretty," directed Aunt Alvirah.
"She wouldn't feel right sleepin' in one o' _my_ old things, I know."
Ruth was excited. In the first place, as to most girls of her age, a "real
live actress" was as much of a wonder as a Great Auk would have been;
only, of course, Hazel Gray was much more charming than the garfowl!
Ruth Fielding was interested in moving pictures--and for a particular
reason. Long before she had gained the reward for the return of the pearl
necklace to Nettie Parsons' aunt, Ruth had thought of writing a scenario.
This was not a very original thought, for many, many thousand other people
have thought the same thing.
Occasionally, when she had been to a film show, Ruth had wondered why she
could not write a playlet quite as good as many she saw, and get money for
it. But it had been only a thought; she knew nothing about the technique
of the scenario, or how to go about getting an opinion upon her work if
she should write one.
Here chance had thrown her into the company of a girl who was working for
the films, and evidently was of some importance in the moving picture
companies, despite the treatment she had received from the unpleasant
director, Mr. Grimes.
Ruth remembered now of having seen Hazel Gray upon the screen more than
once within the year. She was regarded as a coming star, although she had
not achieved the fame of many actresses for the silent drama who were no
older.
So Ruth, feeling the importance of the occasion, selected from her store
the very prettiest night gown that she owned--one she had never even worn
herself--and brought it down stairs to the girl who had been in the river.
A little later Hazel Gray was between Aunt Alvirah's blankets, and was
sipping her hot tea.
"My dear! you are very, very good to me," she said, clinging to Ruth's
hand. You and the dear little old lady. Are you as good to every stranger
who comes your way?"
"Aunt Alvirah is, I'm sure," replied Ruth, laughing and blushing. Somehow,
despite the fact that the young actress was only two or three years older
than herself, the girl of the Red Mill felt much more immature than Miss
Gray.
"You belittle your own kindness, I am sure," said Hazel. "And that _dear_
boy who got me out of the river--Where is he?"
"Unseeable at present," laughed Ruth. "He is dressed in some of Uncle
Jabez's clothing, a world too big for him. But Tom _is_ one of the dearest
fellows who ever lived."
"You think a great deal of him, I fancy?"
"Oh, yes, indeed!" cried Ruth, innocently. "His sister is my very dearest
friend. We go to Briarwood Hall together."
"Briarwood Hall? I have heard of that. We go there soon, I understand. Mr.
Hammond is to take some pictures in and around Lumberton."
"Oh!" exclaimed Ruth. 'That will be nice! I hope we shall see you up
there, Miss Gray, for Helen and I go back to school in a week."
"Whether I see you there or not," said the young actress with a sigh, "I
hope that I shall be able some time to repay you for what you do for me
now. You are entirely too kind."
"Perhaps you can pay me more easily than you think," said Ruth, bashfully,
but with dancing eyes.
"How? Tell me at once," said Miss Gray.
"I'm just _mad_ to try writing a scenario for a moving picture," confessed
Ruth. "But I don't know how to go about getting it read."
Miss Gray smiled, but made no comment upon Ruth's desire. She merely said,
pleasantly:
"If you write your scenario, my dear, I will get our manager to read it."
"That awful Mr. Grimes?" cried Ruth. "Oh! I shouldn't want _him_ to read
it."
Hazel Gray laughed heartily at that. "Don't judge, the taste of a baked
porcupine by his quills," she said. "Grimes is a very rough and unpleasant
man; but he gets there. He is one of the most successful directors Mr.
Hammond has working for him."
"You have mentioned Mr. Hammond before?" said Ruth, questioningly.
"He is the man I will show your scenario to." Then she added: "If I am
still working for him. Mr. Hammond is a very nice man; but Grimes does not
like me," and again the girl sighed, and a cloud came over her pretty
face.
"I would not work under such a mean man as that Grimes!" declared Ruth.
"You might have been drowned because of his carelessness."
"It is my misfortune--being an actress--often to work under unpleasant
conditions. I want to get ahead, and I would like to please Grimes; he
puts over his pictures, and he has made several film actresses quite
famous. Of course, although my first consideration must necessarily be my
bread and butter, I hope for a little fame on the side, too."
"Oh! you have achieved that, have you not?" said Ruth, timidly. "I thought
you had already made a name for yourself."
"Not as great a name as I hope to gain some day," declared Hazel Gray.
"But thank you for the compliment. I was carried on to the stage when I
was a baby in arms by my dear mother, who was an actress of some ability.
My father was an actor. He died of a fever in the South before I can
remember, and when I was seven my mother died.
"Kind people trained me for the stage; they were kind enough to say I had
talent. And now I have tried to do my best in the movies. Mr. Hammond
thinks I am a good pantomimist; but Grimes declares I have no 'film
charm,'" and Miss Gray sighed again. "He has another girl he wants to push
forward, and is angry that Mr. Hammond did not send her to head this
company."
"Then this Mr. Hammond is quite an important man?" asked Ruth.
"Head of the Alectrion Film Corporation. He is immensely wealthy and a
really _good_ man. Of course," went on Miss Gray, "he is in the business
of making films for money; just the same, he makes a great many pictures
purely for art's sake, or for educational reasons. You would like Mr.
Hammond, I am sure," and the girl in bed sighed again.
Ruth saw that talking troubled Miss Gray and kept her mind upon her
quarrel with the moving picture director; so it did not need Aunt
Alvirah's warning to make the girl of the Red Mill steal away and leave
the patient to such repose as she might get.