CHAPTER XVIII
UNCERTAINTIES
The automobile purred along the shell road, past the white-sided,green-blinded houses of the retired ship captains and the other well-to-dopeople of Herringport. The car ran so smoothly that Ruth might have readall the way.
But after the first page or two--those containing the opening scenes of"Plain Mary"--she dared not read farther.
Not yet. It was not that there was a familiar phrase in the uprightchirography of the old hermit. The story merely suggested a familiarsituation to Ruth's mind. Thus far it was only a suggestion.
There was something else she felt she must prove or disprove first of all.She sat beside Mr. Hammond quite speechless until they came to the camp onthe harbor shore of Beach Plum Point.
He went off cheerfully to his letter writing, and Ruth entered the shackshe occupied with Helen and Jennie. She opened her locked writing-case.Under the first flap she inserted her fingers and drew forth the wrinkledscrap of paper she had picked up on the sands.
A glance at the blurred writing assured her that it was the same as thatof the hermit's scenario.
"Flash:
"As in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be----"
Shakingly Ruth sat down before the cheap little maple table. She spreadopen the newspaper wrapper and stared again at the title page of "PlainMary."
That title was nothing at all like the one she had given her lostscenario. But a title, after all, meant very little.
The several scenes suggested in the beginning of the hermit's story didnot conflict with the plot she had evolved, although they were not herown. She had read nothing so far that would make this story different fromher own. The names of the characters were changed and the locations forthe first scene were different from those in her script. Nevertheless theaction and development of the story might prove to be exactly like hers.
She shrank from going deeper into the hermit's script. She feared to findher suspicions true; yet she _must_ know.
Finally she began to read. Page after page of the large and sprawlingwriting she turned over, face down upon the table. Ruth grew so absorbedin the story that she did not note the passing of time. She was trulyaware of but one thing. And that seized upon her mind to wring from itboth bitterness and anger.
"Want to go back to the port, Miss Ruth?" asked Mr. Hammond. "I want tomail my letters."
His question startled her. She sprang up, a spot of crimson in eithercheek. Had he looked at her, the manager would certainly have noted herstrange look.
"I'll come in a minute," she called to him in a half-stifled voice.
She laved her eyes and cheeks in cool water, removing such marks of heremotion as she could. Then she bundled up the hermit's scenario and joinedMr. Hammond in the car.
"Did you look at this?" she asked the producer as he started the motor.
"Bless you, no! What is it? As crazy as the old codger himself?"
"Do you really think that man is crazy?" she asked sharply.
"Why, I don't really know. Just queer perhaps. It doesn't seem as thougha sane man would live all stark alone over on that sea-beaten point."
"He is an actor," declared Ruth. "Your director says so."
"At least, he does not claim to be, and they usually do, you know,"chuckled Mr. Hammond. "But about this thing----"
"You read it! Then I will tell you something," said the girl soberly, andshe refused to explain further.
"You amaze me," said the puzzled manager. "If that old codger hassucceeded in turning out anything worth while, I certainly shall believethat 'wonders never cease.'"
"He has got you all fooled. He _is_ a good actor," declared Ruth bitterly.Then, as Mr. Hammond turned a puzzled frown upon her, she added, "Tell mewhat you think of the script, Mr. Hammond, before you speak to--er--John,or whatever his name may be."
"I certainly am curious now," he declared.
They got back to the place where the director had arranged to "shoot" thesewing circle scene just as everything was all set for it. Mother Paisleydominated the half circle of women about the long table under the trees.Ruth marveled at the types Mr. Hooley had found in the village. And shemarveled further that any group of human beings could appear so wooden.
"Oh, Ruth!" murmured Helen, who was not in this scene, but was aninterested spectator, "they will surely spoil the picture again. Poor Mr.Hooley! He takes _such_ pains."
It was like playing a child's game for most of the members of theHerringport Union congregation. They were selfconscious, and felt thatthey were in a silly situation. Those who were not too serious of demeanorwere giggling like schoolgirls.
Yet everything was ready for the cameras. Mr. Hooley's keen eye ran overall the group. He waved a hand to the camera men.
"Ready camera--action--go!"
The women remained speechless. They merely looked at each other in ahelpless way. It was evident they had forgotten all the instructions thedirector had given them.
But suddenly into the focus of the cameras ran a barefooted urchin wavinga newspaper. This was the Alectrion Company's smartest "kid" actor and afavorite wherever his tousled head, freckled face, and wide grin appearedon the screen. He plunged right at Mother Paisley and thrust the paperinto her hand, while he pointed at a certain place on the front page.
"Read _that_, Ma Bassett!" cried the news vender.
Mrs. Paisley gave expression first to wonder, then utter amazement, as sheread the item Ruth had had inserted in this particular "edition" of the_Harpoon_. She was a fine old actress and her facial registering ofemotion was a marvel. Mr. Hooley had seldom to advise her.
Now his voice was heard above the clack of the cameras:
"Pass it to the lady at your left. That's it! Cling to the paper. Get yourheads together--three of you now!"
The amateur players looked at each other and began to grin. The scenepromised to be as big a "fizzle" as the one shot the previous day.
But the woman next to Mrs. Paisley, after looking carelessly at the paper,of a sudden came to life. She seized the _Harpoon_ with both hands, fairlysnatching it out of the actress' hands. She was too startled to be polite.
"What under the canopy is this here?" she sputtered.
She was a small, wiry, vigorous woman, and she had an expressive, if avinegary, face. She rose from her seat and forgot all about her"play-acting."
"What d'you think it says here?" she demanded of her sister-members of theladies' aid.
"Sh!"
"Ella Painter, you're a-bustin' up the show!" admonished a motherly oldperson at the end of the table.
But Mrs. Painter did not notice these hushed remarks. She read the item inthe paper aloud--and so extravagantly did she mouth the astonishing wordsthat Ruth feared they might be read on her lips when shown on the screen.
"Listen!" Mrs. Painter cried. "Right at the top of the marriage notices!'Garside--Smythe. At Perleyvale, Maine, on August twenty-second, theReverend Elton Garside, of Herringport, and Miss Amy Smythe, ofPerleyvale.' What do you know about that?"
The gasp of amazement that went up from the women of the Herringport UnionChurch was almost a chorus of anguish. The paper was snatched from hand tohand. Nobody could accuse the amateurs now of being "wooden."
Not until Mrs. Paisley in the character of _Ma Bassett_, at the signalfrom Mr. Hooley, fell back in her chair, exclaiming: "My mercy me! LuellaSprague and the teacher! Who'd have thought it?" did the company ingeneral suspect that something had been "put over on them."
"All right! All right!" shouted Jim Hooley in high delight, stopping hiscamera men. "That's fine! It's great! Miss Fielding, your scheme workedlike a charm."
The members of the sewing circle began to ask questions.
"Do you mean to say this is in the play?" demanded Mrs. Ella Painter,waving the newspaper and inclined to be indignant.
"Yes, Mrs. Painter. That marriage notice is just a joke," the directortold her. "It certainly gave you ladies a start and---- We
ll, waittill you see this scene on the screen!"
"But ain't it _so_?" cried another. "Why, Mr. Garside---- Why! it'sin the _Harpoon_."
"But you won't find it in another _Harpoon_," laughed the director,recovering possession of the newspaper. "It's only a joke. But Ipositively had to give you ladies a real shock or we'd never have got thisscene right."
"Well, of all the impudence!" began Mrs. Painter.
However, she joined in the laughter a minute later. At best, the women hadwon from Mr. Hammond enough money to pay for the painting of their churchedifice, and they were willing to sacrifice their dignity for that.