CHAPTER XIX

COUNTERCLAIMS

"I declare, Ruth! that was a ridiculous thing to do," exclaimed Helen, when they were on their way back to the Point. "But it certainly brought the sewing circle women all up standing."

"I've been wondering all day what Ruth was up to," said Tom, who was steering the big car. "I was in on it without understanding her game."

"Well, it was just what the directer needed," chuckled Jennie. "Oh, it takes our Ruth to do things."

"I wonder?" sighed the girl of the Red Mill, in no responsive mood.

She had something very unpleasant before her that she felt she must do, and nothing could raise her spirits. She did not speak to anybody about the hermit's scenario. She waited for Mr. Hammond to express his opinion of it.

At the camp she found a letter for her from the doctor's wife who had promised to keep her informed regarding Arabella Montague Fitzmaurice Pike. That young person was doing well and getting fat at the Perkins'

farm. But Mrs. Holmes was quite sure that she had not heard from her father.

"You've got another half-orphan on your hands, Ruth," said Helen. She made it a point always to object to Ruth's charities. "I don't believe that man will ever show up again. If he went away with a medicine show----"

"No, no," said Ruth firmly. "No child would ever respect and love her father as Bella does if he was not good to her. He will turn up."

Just then Tom called from outside the door of the girls' shack.

"What say to a moonlight dip off the Point?" he asked. "The tide is not very low. And I missed my splash this morning."

"We're with you, Tommy," responded his sister. "Wait till we get into bathing suits."

Even Ruth was enthusiastic--to a degree--over this. In twenty minutes they were running up the beach with Tom and Henri toward the end of the Point.

"Let's go over and get the surf," suggested Jennie. "I do love surf bathing. All you have to do is to bob up and down in one place."

"Heavy is lazy even in her sport," scoffed Helen. "But I'm game for the rough stuff."

They crossed the neck of land near the hermit's hut. There was a hard beach almost in front of the hut, and up this the breakers rolled and foamed delightfully. The so-called hermit, hearing their voices, came out and sat on a rock to watch them. But he did not offer to speak until Ruth went over to him.

"Mr. Hammond let me read your script, John," she said coldly.

"Indeed?" he rejoined without emotion.

"Where did you get the idea for that scenario?"

He tapped his head with a long forefinger. "Right inside of that skull. I do my own thinking," he said.

"You did not have any help about it? You originated the idea of 'Plain Mary?'"

He nodded. "You ain't the only person who can write a picture," he observed. "And I think that this one they are filming for you is silly."

Ruth stared down at him, but said nothing more. She was ready to go back to camp as soon as the others would, and she remained very silent. Mr.

Hammond had been asking for her, Miss Loder said. When Ruth had got into something more presentable than a wet bathing suit, she went to his office.

"What do you know about this?" he demanded in plain amazement. "This story the old man gave me to read is a wonder! It is one of the best ideas I ever saw for the screen. Of course, it needs fixing up a bit, but it's great! What did you think of it, Miss Ruth?"

"I am glad you like it, Mr. Hammond," she said, steadying her voice with difficulty.

"I do like it, I a.s.sure you."

"It is _my_ story, Mr. Hammond!" she exclaimed. "It is the very scenario that was stolen from me at home. He's just changed the names of the characters and given it a different t.i.tle, and spoiled some of the scenes.

But a large part of it is copied word for word from my ma.n.u.script!"

"Miss Fielding!" gasped the president of the Alectrion Film Corporation.

"I am telling you the truth," Ruth cried, rather wildly, it must be confessed, and then she broke down and wept.

"My goodness! It can't be possible! You--you've let your mind dwell upon your loss so much----"

"Do you think I am crazy?" she demanded, flaring up at him, her anger drying her tears.

"Certainly not," he returned gently; yet he looked at her oddly. "But mistakes have been made----"

"Mistakes, indeed! It is no mistake when I recognize my own work."

"But--but how could this old man have stolen your work--and away back there at the Red Mill? I believe he has lived here on the Point for years. At least, every summer."

"Then somebody else stole it and he got the script from them. I tell you it is mine!" cried Ruth.

"Miss Fielding! Let us be calm----"

"You would not be calm if you discovered somebody trying to make use of something you had originated, and calling it theirs--no you wouldn't, Mr.

Hammond!"

"But it seems impossible," he said weakly.

"That old man is an actor--an old-school actor. You can see that easily enough," she declared. "There was such a person about the Red Mill the day my script was lost. Oh, it's plain enough."

"Not so plain, Miss Ruth," said Mr. Hammond firmly. "And you must not make wild accusations. That will do no good--and may do harm in the end. It does not seem probable to me that this old hermit could have actually stolen your story. A longsh.o.r.e character like him----"

"He's not!" cried Ruth. "Don't you see that he is playing a part? He is no fisherman. No longsh.o.r.e character, as you call him, would be as afraid of the sea as he is. He is playing a part--and he plays it just as well as the parts Mr. Hooley gives him to play."

"Jove! There may be something in that," murmured the manager.

"He got my script some way, I tell you!" declared Ruth. "I am not going to let anybody maul my story and put it over as his own. No, sir!"

"But--but, Miss Ruth!" exclaimed Mr. Hammond. "How are you going to prove what you say is true?"

"Prove it?"