Part 14 (1/2)

Then Alice opened the unlocked door and went in. Ruth paused for a moment to say:

”I think you have made a terrible mistake, Miss Dixon,” and then she followed her sister to comfort the crying girl.

”Humph! Mistake!” sneered Miss Dixon.

”That's what we get for mixing in with amateurs,” added her chum. ”Come on, we'll speak to Mr. Pertell about it.”

But, for some reason or other, the director was not told directly of the loss of the ring, nor was Estelle openly accused. She felt as badly, though, as if she had been, even when Ruth and Alice tried to comfort her.

Estelle had left the table early, but though she had pa.s.sed Miss Dixon's room, she said she had seen no one about.

”Don't mind about the old ring!” said Alice. ”It wasn't worth five dollars.”

”But that I should be accused of taking even five dollars!”

”You're not!” said Ruth, quickly. ”They don't dare make an open accusation. I wouldn't be surprised if Miss Dixon found she had lost her ring and she's ashamed to acknowledge it.”

”Oh, but it is dreadful to be suspected!” sighed Estelle.

”You're not--no one in his senses would think of even dreaming you took so much as a pin!” cried Alice. ”It's positively silly! I wouldn't make such a fuss over such a cheap ring.”

But Miss Dixon did make a ”fuss,” inasmuch as she talked often about her loss, though she still made no direct accusation against Estelle. But Miss Dixon and her chum made life miserable for the daring horsewoman.

They often spoke in her presence of extra players who did not know their places, and made sneering references to locking up their valuables.

At times Estelle was so miserable that she threatened to leave, but Ruth and Alice would not hear of it and offered to lay the whole matter before Mr. Pertell and have him settle it by demanding that the loser of the ring either make a direct accusation or else keep quiet about her loss.

Mr. DeVere, who was appealed to by his daughters, voted against this, however.

”It is best not to pay any attention to those young ladies,” he advised.

”The friends of Estelle know she would not do such a thing, and no one takes either Miss Dixon or Miss Pennington very seriously--not half as seriously as they take themselves. It will all blow over.”

There were big times ahead for the moving picture girls and their friends. Some of the most important battle scenes were soon to be filmed, those that had already been taken having been skirmishes.

”I have succeeded in getting two regiments of the state militia to take part in a sham battle for our big play,” said Mr. Pertell one day. ”They are to come to this part of the country for their annual manoeuvers under the supervision of the regular army officers, and by paying their expenses I can have them here for a couple of days.

”They will come with their horses, tents, and everything, so we shall have some real war scenes--that is, as real as can be had with blank cartridges. It will be a great thing for my film.”

”And will they work in with our players?” asked Mr. DeVere.

”Oh, yes, indeed! I intend to use your daughters in the spy and hospital scenes, and you as one of the generals. In fact, Mr. DeVere, I depend on you to coach the militia men. For though they know a lot about military matters, they do not know how best to pose for the camera. So I'll be glad if you will act as a sort of stage manager.”

”I shall be pleased to,” answered the old player. And he was greatly delighted at the opportunity.

About a week after Mr. Pertell had mentioned that two regiments of militia were coming to Oak Farm, Ruth and Alice awakened one morning to see the fields about them dotted with tents and soldiers moving about here and there.

”Why, it does look just like a real war camp!” exclaimed Alice, who, in a very becoming dressing gown, was at the window. ”Oh, isn't it thrilling! How dare you?” she exclaimed, drawing hastily back.