CHAPTER XXIV
"SEEING OURSELVES AS OTHERS SEE US"
"I want to tell you girls one thing," said Jennie Stone, solemnly. "If Iget through these examinations without having so low a mark that MissBrokaw sends me down into the primary grade, I promise to be goodfor--for--well, for the rest of my life--at Briarwood!"
"Of course," Helen said. "Heavy would limit that vow to something easy."
"Perhaps she had the same grave doubt about being able to be good that thelittle boy felt who was saying his prayers," Belle said. "He prayed: 'DearGod, please make me a good boy--and if You don't at first succeed, try,try again!'"
"But oh! some of the problems _are_ so hard," sighed Lluella.
"'The Mournful Sisters' will now give their famous sketch," laughed Ruth,as announcer. "Come, now! altogether, girls!"
"'Knock, knock, knock! the girls are knocking----Bring the hammers all this way!'"
"Never mind, Ruthie Fielding," complained Lluella. "We don't all of ushave the luck you do. All your English made up for you in thatscenario----"
"And who is _this_ made up, I'd be glad to have somebody tell me?"interposed Jennie. "Oh, girls! tell me. Do you all see the same thing Ido?"
The crowd were strolling slowly down the Cedar Walk and the individual theplump girl had spied had just come into view, walking toward them. He wasa tall, lean man, "as narrow as a happy thought," Jennie muttered, anddressed in a peculiar manner.
Few visitors came to Briarwood save parents or friends of the girls. Thisman did not even look like a pedler. At least, he carried no sample case,and he was not walking from the direction of Lumberton.
His black suit was very dusty and his yellow shoes proved by the dust theybore, too, that he had walked a long way.
"He wears a rolling collar and a flowing tie," muttered the irrepressibleJennie. "Goodness! it almost makes me seasick to look at them. _What_ canhe be? A chaplain in the navy? An actor?"
"Actor is right," thought Ruth, as the man strutted up the walk.
The girls, who were attending Ruth and Ann and Amy Gregg a part of the wayto Mrs. Sadoc Smith's, gave the strange man plenty of room on the gravelwalk, but when he came near them he stopped and stared. And he stared atRuth.
"Pardon me, young lady," he said, in a full, sonorous tone. "Are you MissFielding?"
The other girls drifted away and left Ruth to face the odd looking person.
"I am Ruth Fielding," Ruth said, much puzzled.
"Ah! you do not know me?" queried the man.
"No, sir."
"My card!" said the man, with a flourish.
Jennie whispered to the others: "Look at him! He draws and presents thatcard as though it were a sword at his enemy's throat! I hope he won'timpale her upon it."
Ruth, much bewildered, and not a little troubled, accepted the card. On itwas printed:
AMASA FARRINGTON Criterion Films
"Goodness!" thought Ruth. "More moving picture people?"
"I had the happiness," stated Mr. Farrington, "of being present when thecensors saw the first run of your eminently successful picture, 'The Heartof a Schoolgirl,' Miss Fielding, and through a mutual friend I learnedwhere you were to be found. I may say that from your appearance on thescreen I was enabled to recognize you just now."
Ruth said nothing, but waited for him to explain. There really did notseem to be anything she could say.
"I see in that film, Miss Fielding," pursued Mr. Farrington, "the promiseof better work--in time, of course, in time. You are young yet. I believeyou attend this boarding school?"
"Yes," said Ruth, simply.
"From the maturity of your treatment of the scenario I fancied you mightbe a teacher here at Briarwood," pursued the man, smirking. "But I findyou a young person--extremely young, if I may be allowed the observation,to have written a scenario of the character of 'The Heart of aSchoolgirl.'"
"I wrote it," said Ruth, for she thought the remark was a question. "I hadwritten one before."
"Yes, yes, yes!" exclaimed Mr. Farrington. "So I understand. In fact, Ihave seen your 'Curiosity.' A very ingeniously thought out reel. And wellacted by the Alectrion Company. Rather good acting, indeed, for _them_."
"I have not seen it myself," Ruth said, not knowing what the man wanted orhow she ought to speak to him. "Did you wish to talk to me on any matterof importance?"
"I may say, Yes, very important--to yourself, Miss Fielding," he said,with a wide smile. "This is a most important matter. It affects yourentire career as--- I may say--one of our most ingenious young writers forthe screen."
Ruth stared at him in amazement. Just because she had written two movingpicture scenarios she was quite sure that she was neither famous nor agenius. Mr. Amasa Farrington's enthusiasm was more amazing than hisappearance.
"I am sure I do not understand you," Ruth confessed. "Is it something thatyou would better talk to Mrs. Tellingham about? I will introduce you toher----"
"No, no!" said Mr. Farrington, waving a black-gloved hand with the gesture_Hamlet_ might have used in waving to his father's ghost. "The ladypreceptress of your school has naught to do with this matter. It ispersonal with you."
"But what _is_ it?" queried Ruth, rather exasperated now.
"Be not hasty--be not hasty, I beg," said Amasa Farrington. "I know I maysurprise you. I, too, was unknown at one time, and never expected to beanything more than a traveling Indian Bitters pedler. My latent talent wasdeveloped and fostered by a kindly soul, and I come to you now, MissFielding, in the remembrance of my own youth and inexperience----"
"For mercy's sake!" gasped Ruth, finally. "What do you wish? I am not inneed of any Indian Bitters."
"You mistake me--you mistake me," said the man, stiffly. "Amasa Farringtonhas long since graduated from the ranks of such sordid toilers. See mycard."
"I _do_ see your card," the impatient Ruth said, again glancing at the bitof pasteboard. "I see that you represent something called the 'CriterionFilms.' What are they?"
"Ah! now you ask a pointed question, young lady," declared Mr. Farrington."Rather you should ask, 'What will they be?' They will be the most widelyadvertised films ever released for the entertainment of the public. Theywill be written by the most famous writers of scenarios. They will beproduced by the greatest directors in the business. They will be acted byour foremost Thespians."
"I--I hope you will be successful, Mr. Farrington," said Ruth, faintly,not knowing what else to say.
"We shall be--we must be--I may say that we have _got_ to be!" ejaculatedthe ex-Indian Bitters pedler. "And I come to you, Miss Fielding, for yourco-operation."
"Mine?" gasped Ruth.
"Yes, Miss Fielding. You are a coming writer of scenarios of a highcharacter. We geniuses must help each other--we must keep together andrefuse to further the ends of the sordid producers who would bleed us ofour best work."
This was rather wild talk, and Ruth did not understand it. She said,frankly:
"Just what do you mean, Mr. Farrington? What do you want me to do?"
"Ah! Practical! I like to see you so," said the man, with a flourish,drawing forth a document of several typewritten pages. "I want you to readand sign this, Miss Fielding. It is a contract with the Criterion Films--amost liberal contract, I might say--in which you bind yourself to turnover to us your scenarios for a term of years, we, meanwhile, agreeing topush your work and make you known to the public."
"Oh, dear me!" gasped Ruth. "I'm not sure I want to be so publicly known."
"Nonsense!" cried the man, in amazement. "Why! in publicity is the breathof life. Without it, we faint--we die--we, worse--we _vegetate_!"
"I--I guess I don't mind vegetating--a--a little," stammered Ruth, weakly.
At that moment Mary Pease came racing down the walk. She waved a letter inher hand and was calling Ruth's name.
"Oh, Ruthie Fielding!" she called, when she saw Ruth with the man. "Here'sa letter Mrs. Tellingham forgot to give you. She says it came enclosed ino
ne from Mr. Hammond to her."
The excited girl stopped by Ruth, handed her the letter, and staredfrankly at Mr. Amasa Farrington. That person's face began to redden asRuth idly opened the unsealed missive.
Again a green slip fell out. Mary darted toward it and picked it up. Sheread the check loudly--excitedly--almost in a shriek!
"Goodness, gracious me, Ruthie Fielding! Is Mr. Hammond giving you thismoney--_all_ this money--for your very own?"
But Ruth did not reply. She was scanning the letter from the president ofthe Alectrion Film Corporation. Mr. Farrington was plainly nervous.
"Come, Miss Fielding, I am waiting for your answer," he said stiffly. "Ifyou join the Criterion Films, your success is assured. You are famous fromthe start----"
Ruth was just reading a clause in Mr. Hammond's kind and friendly letter:
"Don't let your head be turned by success, little girl. And I don't think it will be. You have succeeded in inventing two very original scenarios. We will hope you can do better work in time. But don't force yourself. Above all have nothing to do with agents of film people who may want you to write something that they may rush into the market for the benefit of the advertising your school play will give you."
"No, Mr. Farrington," said Ruth, kindly. "I do not want to join yourforces. I am not even sure that I shall ever be able to write anotherscenario. Circumstances seemed really to force me to write 'The Heart of aSchoolgirl.' I am glad you think well of it. Good afternoon."
"Can you beat her?" demanded Jennie, a minute later, when the long-leggedMr. Farrington had strutted angrily away. "Ruthie is as calm as a summerlake. She can turn an offer of fame and fortune down with the greatestease. Let's see that check, you miserable infant," she went on, grabbingthe slip of paper out of Mary's hand. "Oh, girls, it's really so!"
Ruth was reading another paragraph in Mr. Hammond's letter. He said:
"The check enclosed is for you, yourself. It has nothing to do with the profits of the films we now release. It is a bribe. I want to see whatever scenarios you may write during the next two years. I want to see them first. That is all. We do not need a contract, but if you keep the check I shall know that I am to have first choice of anything you may write in this line."
The check went into Ruth's bank account.
That very week "The Heart of a Schoolgirl" was to be shown at the localOpera House. Mrs. Tellingham gave a half holiday and engaged enough stagesbesides Noah's old Ark, to take all the girls to the play. They went tothe matinee, and the center of enthusiasm was in the seats in the body ofthe house reserved for the Briarwood girls.
The house was well filled at this first showing of the picture inLumberton, and more than the girls themselves were enthusiastic over it.To Ruth's surprise the manager of the house showed "Curiosity" first, andwhen she saw her name emblazoned under the title of the one-reel film,Ruth Fielding had a distinct shock.
It was a joyful feeling that shook her, however. As never before sherealized that she had really accomplished something in the world. She hadearned money with her brains! And she had written something really worthwhile, too.
When the five-reel drama came on, she was as much absorbed in the story asthough she had not written it and acted in it. It gave her a strangefeeling indeed when she saw herself come on to the screen, and knew justwhat she was saying in the picture by the movement of her lips--whethershe remembered the words spoken when the film was made or not.
Everything went off smoothly. The girls cheered the picture to the echo,and at the end went marching out, shouting:
"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!_"