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!"
Ruth thought that she was scarcely a child. But she only said: "I am glad
you like the part. I meant it for you."
"I know. Mr. Hammond told me that you insisted on my playing the part of
Eve Adair. And, oh! what about that nice boy, Thomas Cameron? Are he and
his sister well? I received a lovely box of sweets from Thomas after I
went back to the city that time."
"He is well, I believe," said Ruth, gravely. "He is not far from here, you
know; he attends the Seven Oaks Military Academy."
"Oh! so he does. Maybe we shall go that way," said Hazel Gray, carelessly.
"It would be lots of fun to see him again. Give my love to his sister."
"Yes, Miss Gray," Ruth returned seriously. "I will tell Helen."
She really liked Hazel Gray, and wished to see her get ahead. And it was
through her acquaintanceship with Hazel that Ruth had made a friend of
Mr. Hammond. But it annoyed Ruth that the actress should continue to be so
friendly with Tom Cameron.
She thought no good could come of it Tom Cameron had always seemed such a
seriously inclined boy, in spite of his ready fun and cheerfulness. To
have him show such partiality for a girl so much older than himself,
really a grown woman, as Hazel Gray was, disturbed Ruth.
She said nothing to her chum about it. If Helen was not worried about her
twin's predilection for the moving picture actress, it did not become Ruth
to worry.
Ruth went back to Briarwood, encouraged to go on with the writing of the
drama. From Mr. Hammond's fertile mind had come several helpful
suggestions. The plot of the play was very intimately connected with the
history of Briarwood. There was included in its scenes a "Masque of the
Marble Harp," in which the whole school was to be grouped about the
fountain in the sunken garden.
The marble figure of Harmony, or Poesy, or whatever it was supposed to
represent, was to come to life in the picture and strum the strings of the
lyre which it held. This was a trick picture and Mr. Hammond had explained
to Ruth just how it was to be made.
The legend of the marble harp, which had been kept alive by succeeding
classes of Briarwood girls for the purpose of hazing "infants," came in
very nicely now in Ruth's story. And the arrangement of this trick picture
suggested another thing to Ruth Fielding, something which she had been
racking her brains about for some time.
This idea had nothing to do with the present play; it had to do, instead,
with Mercy Curtis and the graduation exercises. One idea bred another in
Ruth Fielding's teeming brain. Her dramatic faculties, were being
sharpened.
With all their regular studies and recitations, the seniors had to take
their usual turns as monitors, and Ruth could not escape this duty.
Besides, it was an honor not to be scorned, to be chosen to preside over
the "primes," or to take the head of a table at dinner.
A teacher was ill on one day and Miss Brokaw asked Ruth to take certain
classes of the primary grade. The recitations were on subjects quite
familiar to Ruth and she felt no hesitancy in accepting the
responsibility; but there was more ahead of her than she supposed when she
entered on the task.
As it chanced, the flaxen-haired Amy Gregg was in the class of which Ruth
was sent to take charge. Amy scowled at the senior when the latter took
the desk; but most of the other girls were glad to see Ruth Fielding.
A little wrangle seemed to have begun before Ruth arrived, and the senior
thought to settle the difficulty and start the day with "clear decks," by
getting at the seat of the trouble.
"What is the matter, Mary Pease?" she asked a flushed and indignant girl
who was angrily glaring at another. "Calm down, honey. Don't let your
anger rise."
"If Amy Gregg says again that I took her gold pen, I'll tell something
about _her_ she won't like, now I warn her!" threatened Mary.
"Well, it's gone!" stormed Amy, "and you're the nearest. I'd like to know
who took it if you didn't?"
"Well! of all the nerve! I want you to understand that I don't have to
steal pens."
"Hold on, girls," put in Ruth. "This must not go on. You know, I shall be
obliged to report you both."
"Of course!" snarled Amy. "You big girls are always telling on us."
"Oh!" and "Shame!" was the general murmur about the classroom; for most of
the girls loved Ruth.
"Why, you nasty thing!" cried Mary Pease, glaring at Amy. "You ought to be
ashamed. I'll tell what I know about _you_!"
"Mary!" exclaimed Ruth, with sudden fright. "Be still."
"I guess you don't know what I know about Gregg, Ruth Fielding," cried the
excited Mary.
"We do not want to know," Ruth said hastily. "Let us stop this wrangling
and turn to our work. Suppose Miss Brokaw should come in?"
"And I guess Miss Brokaw or anybody would want to know what I saw that
night of the fire," declared Mary Pease, wildly. "_I_ know whose room the
fire started in, and _how_ it started."
"Mary!" cried Ruth, rising from her seat, while the girls of the class
uttered wondering exclamations.
But Mary was hysterical now.
"I saw a light in _her_ room!" she cried, pointing an accusing finger at
the white-faced and shaking Amy. "I peeped through the keyhole, and it was
a candle burning on her table. She said she didn't have a candle. Bah!"
"Be still, Mary!" commanded Ruth again.
Amy Gregg was terror-stricken and shrank away from her accuser; but the
latter was too excited to heed Ruth.
"I know all about it. So does Miss Scrimp. I told her. That Amy Gregg left
the candle burning when she went to supper and it fell off her table into
the waste basket.
"And that," concluded Mary Pease, "was how the fire started that burned
down the West Dormitory, and I don't care who knows it, so there!"