RUTH DECIDES
As for Ruth, her head was whirling about in a fashion extremely
unsettling to one of her usual composure and steady common sense.
She, act! A leading part! Such a notion had never entered her mind until
Mr. Hammond abruptly put it there. It was flattering, this proposal of
his, but the thing was utterly impossible.
She was saved the necessity of an immediate response by the arrival of
Helen and Tom. The former was all exclamations and sympathy and flung
herself upon Ruth at once with a flood of questions.
“That terrible Viola!” she cried, with a ferocious scowl. “You were
right enough in suspecting her, Ruth. I only wish I had her here for a
few minutes! And now what will you do for a leading woman?” and she
regarded Ruth’s flushed face with commiserating eyes.
“I’ve already suggested a remedy to Miss Ruth,” said Mr. Hammond, trying
to appear casual. “But, somehow or other, she doesn’t appear to think
much of it.”
“A remedy?” repeated Tom, puzzled. “What possible remedy can there be?
Unless,” turning jocularly to Mr. Hammond, “you have brought an actress
with you in your pocket.”
“Perhaps I have merely found one up here,” returned the older man,
evidently enjoying the mystification of the two young people.
Ruth roused herself. Her face felt feverish and her hands were as cold
as ice.
“Mr. Hammond suggests,” she said, in a small voice, “that I play the
lead myself. Oh, Tom, I don’t know! What do you think?” and she fixed
her gaze on the young man’s face.
There was a moment of startled silence. It was Helen who broke into loud
exclamations of approval.
“What a wonderful idea! Why, of course, you were just made to act, Ruth!
I’ve watched you myself sometimes with that very thought in my mind.
What an excellently simple solution!”
Ruth shook her head dubiously.
“I wish I thought so,” she said. “But I’ve never seriously thought of
acting. I’ve never wanted to, in fact. At least, not after the thrill of
my part in ‘The Heart of a Schoolgirl’ passed,” and the girl smiled
slightly. “I’ve been too happy constructing vehicles for others and
directing----”
“That’s just it,” Mr. Hammond broke in. “Any one who can direct others
in as masterly a style as you can, Miss Ruth, ought certainly to be able
to direct herself.”
Ruth shook her head, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
“I’m not a bit sure. I haven’t much faith in my acting ability. Besides,
we can’t even tell whether or not I’ll film well.”
“That can soon be settled,” said Mr. Hammond, waiving the objection
aside. “Any one with your straight, regular features is almost bound to
film well. And you’ve got the eyes--no doubt of that.”
Ruth fell silent, thinking over Mr. Hammond’s proposal, turning it over,
looking at it from every angle. He had had a great deal of experience in
the pictures, much more than she. He had picked a number of the
present-day stars. Why was it not possible that his judgment was good in
her case?
Helen chatted on excitedly over the prospect, occasionally exchanging
views with Mr. Hammond. But Tom, despite Ruth’s appeal to him, was
silent, almost morose, and after a time Ruth noticed this silence.
She looked up at him, studying his thoughtful face for a moment. Then
she touched his arm.
“You aren’t crazy over the idea, are you, Tom?” she asked, her voice a
bit wistful.
Tom looked startled. It was as though she had discovered some secret
thought that he was trying to hide.
“I haven’t had time to think of it yet,” he answered evasively; but
after a moment he turned to her on impulse: “Will you take a walk with
me, Ruth? I’d like to talk to you.”
Ruth turned to Mr. Hammond and Helen.
“Will you excuse us?” she said.
“Certainly,” replied Mr. Hammond.
Helen, however, looked a little vexed.
“Now, Ruth Fielding, don’t go off and let Tom Cameron persuade you not
to do it!” she exclaimed. “I’m crazy to see you as a screen star!”
“A flickering little star, I’m afraid,” responded Ruth dully, as she and
Tom left the porch and turned toward Golden Pass.
They walked for some distance in silence, Tom morose, hands thrust deep
in his pockets, Ruth busy with her own thoughts and willing that he
should take the lead in the conversation.
Finally the young fellow kicked viciously at a stone in his path and
vigorously voiced his protest.
“I don’t know that I like this new wrinkle at all, Ruth!” he burst out.
“What new wrinkle?” queried Ruth, frowning.
“You know very well what I’m talking about. This suggestion of Mr.
Hammond’s that you take up acting.”
Ruth was silent for a moment. Tom’s tone hurt her. Perhaps he was as
doubtful as she of her ability to act!
“I think myself that it’s rather absurd,” she said at last.
Tom stole a look at her face, then reached out suddenly and captured one
of the brown hands that hung at her side.
“Oh, hang it all, Ruth, you know I don’t mean that you can’t act! I know
you can--as I know you can do anything else that you want to, you
wonderful girl!”
Ruth was sincerely puzzled, groping in the dark.
“Then, if it isn’t that, what is it?” she demanded. “Why don’t you want
me to try this thing?” she persisted when he remained silent. “I’m
desperate, Tom, as indeed you should be too. It seems to me we ought to
welcome any chance that would help us to tide over this trouble. If by
any chance we find that Mr. Hammond is right and that I can act
acceptably, why shouldn’t I? We’ll save the salary of a leading woman,
as well as this heart-breaking delay.”
She looked so lovely to him in her earnestness that Tom’s heart melted
within him. He looked at her pleadingly.
“Can’t you see what I mean--and make allowances for my feeling? If you
take the feminine lead in your own picture you will have to play
opposite Layton Boardman.”
Of course she would have to play opposite Layton Boardman. But, for that
matter, a great many well-known actresses would have been glad of the
privilege.
“What earthly difference will it make?” she asked.
Tom groaned.
“No difference to you, I suppose,” he said, thrusting his hands savagely
into his pockets. “But maybe you think I am going to enjoy seeing that
chap hold you in his arms as he has to do in the last scene?”
Ruth was given the vision to see how hard this would be for Tom, even
though she could not sympathize with his jealousy.
“I’m sorry, Tom, but I can’t see any other way out. After all, the whole
thing is artificial, you know, just play-acting--Layton’s lovemaking
along with the rest. It’s simply in the pictures.”
It was lucky for both Ruth and Tom that the former did not understand
nor ask him to repeat the sentence he muttered under his breath. “If I
could be sure it was all just play acting!” was what he said, and there
was no mistaking the doubt in his voice.
But Ruth did not hear. She was already busy with her plans.
“Anyway,” she said, as they turned to retrace their steps to the house.
“I haven’t decided to do it yet, you know.”
If Ruth had consulted her own feelings she would have taken several days
to think over Mr. Hammond’s suggestion. As it was, she felt that every
day was precious, not only because of the salaries and other expenses
piling up but because she feared the effect delay might have on the
morale of her company. She had trained them and urged them to the
“acting pitch” and she wanted to take full advantage of their
enthusiasm.
Also, she knew Mr. Hammond could not stay at Golden Pass an unlimited
amount of time and there was the fear at the back of her mind that, Mr.
Hammond gone, she would never have the courage to follow his suggestion.
So it happened that on the second evening after his remarkable proposal
a rather timid and embarrassed and altogether unusual Ruth approached
Mr. Hammond as he stood in laughing conversation with Tom on the porch
of the ranch house.
Both turned and saw at once the excitement that made Ruth’s eyes dark
and her cheeks unusually pink. Mr. Hammond put out a kindly hand to her.
“Going to do it?” he challenged.
“Yes!” whispered Ruth, and on the word that committed her something
wonderful and breathtaking surged up within her, making her strong,
confident and glad.