|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 23
"Is there much difference, after all, between that and the presidential
chair?" Helen demanded, chuckling. "The way some people talk about a
president!"
"We are a loose-talking people," Ruth interrupted gravely, "and I think
you girls talk almost as irresponsibly as anybody I ever heard."
"List to the stern and uncompromising Ruthie," scoffed Jennie. "I am
glad I am going back to Aunt Kate. She is a spinster, I admit; but she
isn't anywhere near as old-maid-like as Ruth Fielding."
"I'll tell Tom about that," said Tom's sister wickedly.
"Spinsters are the balance-wheel of the universe machinery," declared
Ruth, laughing. "I always have admired them. But, joking aside, at this
time when the whole world should be so grateful and so much in earnest
because of the end of a terrible war, trivial matters and trivial talk
somehow seems to jar."
"Not so! Not so!" cried Helen vigorously. "We have been holding in and
trying to keep cheerful with the fear at our hearts that some loved one
would suddenly be taken. It was not lightness of heart that made people
dance and act as though rattled-pated during the war. It was an attempt
to hide that awful fear in their hearts. See how the people in Cheslow
acted as though they were crazy the night of the armistice. And did you
read what the papers said about the times in New York? It was only a
natural outbreak."
"Well," remarked. Ruth, shrugging her shoulders, "you certainly have got
off the subject of old maids--bless 'em! Give my love to your Aunt Kate,
Jennie, and when we come to the city to take the shots for this picture,
I'll surely see her."
"Hi!" cried Miss Stone energetically. "I guess you will! You'll come
right to the house and stay with us during that time!"
"Oh, no. I shall have Wonota with me. We will stay at a hotel. Our hours
are always so uncertain when we shoot a picture that I could not
undertake to be at any private house."
There was some discussion over this. Ruth did not intend to let Wonota
out of her sight much while the picture was being made. Nor did she
propose to let the script of the picture out of her sight until copies
could be made of it, and the continuity man had made his version for the
director. Ruth was not going to run the risk of losing another scenario,
as she had once while Down East.
Ruth put in two weeks' hard work on the new story. As she laughingly
said, she ate, slept, and talked movies all the time. Wonota had to
amuse herself; but that did not seem hard for the Indian girl to do. She
was naturally of a very quiet disposition. She sat by Aunt Alvirah for
hours doing beadwork while the old woman darned or knitted.
"You wouldn't ever suspect she was a Red Indian unless you looked at
her," Aunt Alvirah confessed to the rest of the family. "She's a very
nice girl."
As for Wonota, she said:
"I used to sit beside my grandmother and work like this. Yes, Chief
Totantora taught me to shoot and paddle a canoe, and to do many other
things out-of-doors. But my grandmother was the head woman of our tribe,
and her beadwork and dyed porcupine-quill work was the finest you ever
saw, Ruth Fielding. I was sorry to leave my war-bag with Dakota Joe. It
had in it many keepsakes my grandmother gave me before she passed to
the Land of the Spirits."
A demand had been made upon the proprietor of the Wild West Show for
Wonota's possessions, but the man had refused to give them up. The girl
had not brought away with her even the rifle she had used so
successfully in the show. But her pony, West Wind, was stabled in the
Red Mill barn. Indeed, Uncle Jabez had begun to hint that the animal was
"eating its head off." The miller could not help showing what Aunt
Alvirah called "his stingy streak" in spite of the fact that he truly
was interested in the Indian maid and liked her.
"That redskin gal," he confessed in private to Ruth, "is a pretty shrewd
and sensible gal. She got to telling me the other day how her folks
ground grist in a stone pan, or the like, using a hard-wood club to
pound it with. Right slow process of makin' flour or meal, I do allow.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|