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.
"What was it?" asked Ruth from her room.
"One of the officers had the audacity to wave his hand at me."
"You shouldn"t have looked out."
"Ha! A pity I can"t look out of my own window," and to prove that she was well within her rights Alice looked out again, and pretended not to see a young man who was standing in the yard below.
There was a bustle of excitement at the breakfast table. All the players were eager to know what parts they would have, for this was the biggest thing any of them had yet been in--with two regiments taking the field one against the other, with many more cannon and guns than Mr. Pertell had hitherto used.
"I"ll be able to throw on the screen a real battle scene," he said.
"The only trouble," declared Pop Snooks, "is that their uniforms aren"t like those of the days of sixty-three." Pop was a stickler for dramatic correctness.
"It won"t matter," said Mr. Pertell. "The views of the battle will be distant ones, and no one will be able to see the kind of uniforms the men wear. Those who are close to the camera will wear the proper Civil War uniforms we have on hand. The officers of the Guard have agreed to that."
Considerable preparation was necessary before the big film of the battle could be taken, and to this end it was necessary to have several conferences among the officers and Mr. Pertell and his camera men and a.s.sistants, including Mr. DeVere. A number of the Guard officers were constantly about the farmhouse, arranging the plans.
One afternoon Alice was sitting on the porch with Estelle, waiting until it was time for them to take their parts in a side scene of the production. A nattily attired young officer came up the walk, doffing his cap.
"I beg your pardon," he said. "I am Lieutenant Varley, and I was sent here to ask for Mr. Pertell. Perhaps you can tell me where I can find him?"
Alice looked and blushed. He was the one who had audaciously waved to her beneath her window, but now he showed no sign of recognition. As his gaze rested on the face of Estelle Brown, however, he started.
"Excuse me!" he began, "but did you reach your destination safely?"
"My destination!" exclaimed Estelle. "What do you mean? I don"t know you!"
"Perhaps not by name. But are you not the young lady whom I met some years ago in Portland, Oregon, inquiring how to get to New York?"
"You are mistaken," said Estelle, and her voice was frigid in tone. "I have never been in Portland in my life," and she turned aside.
CHAPTER XI
WONDERINGS
For a moment Lieutenant Varley seemed to hesitate, and Alice felt sorry for him. He was distinctly not of the type that would try to make an acquaintance in this way just because Estelle was a pretty girl. He seemed embarra.s.sed and ill at ease. But he was not the sort of young man to give up, once he thought he was right, as he obviously did in this case. To do so, Alice felt sure he reasoned, would have been to acknowledge that he was just the sort he seemingly was not.
"I really beg your pardon," he went on, in a firm but respectful tone.
"I am sure I have met you before. I do not wonder that you do not remember me, but I cannot forget you. Yours isn"t a face one easily forgets," and he smiled genially, and in a manner to disarm criticism.
"But I never was in Portland," insisted Estelle, and it was plain that she was puzzled by his persistence but not offended by it. "And I don"t remember ever having seen you before."
"Perhaps if I recall some of the circ.u.mstances to you it may bring back the memory," suggested the lieutenant. "Believe me, I do not do it out of mere idle curiosity, but you seemed in such distress at the time, and so uncertain of where you wanted to go, that I really wished after I had directed you that I had placed you in charge of the conductor of your train."
"But I never was in Portland," said Estelle again, "and though I have been in New York, I went there from Boston. Surely you have confused me with some one else."