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Page 26
"She is deeply, and justly, angered at that Dakota Joe Fenbrook. But she
scarcely expresses that feeling in her face or voice. She speaks of his
cruelty to her with sadness in her voice merely, and scarcely a flicker
of expression in her countenance."
"Ah!" Ruth said. "Now you see what I see. It is impossible for her to
register changing expressions and feelings as a white girl would. Nor
would she be natural as 'Brighteyes' if she easily showed emotion. Yet
she mustn't be stolid, for if she does the audience will never get what
we are trying to put over."
"The director has got to have judgment--I agree to that," said Mr.
Hammond, nodding. "Wonota must be handled with care. But she's got it in
her to be a real star in time. She photographs like a million dollars!"
and he laughed. "Now if we can teach her to be expressive enough--well,
I am more than ever willing to take the chance with her, provided you,
Miss Ruth, will agree to supply the vehicles of expression."
"You flatter me, Mr. Hammond," returned Ruth, flushing faintly. "I shall
of course be glad to do my best in the writing line."
"That's it. Between us we ought to make a lot of money. And incidentally
to make an Indian star who will make 'em all sit up and take notice."
Ruth was so much interested in "Brighteyes" by this time that she "ate,
slept, walked and talked" little else--to quote Helen. But Tom's sister
grew much interested in the production, too.
"I'm going with you--to New York, anyway," she announced. "I might as
well. Father is so busy with his business now that I scarcely see him
from week end to week end. Dear me, if Tommy only would come home!"
"I guess he'd be delighted," rejoined Ruth, smiling. "But if you go with
me, honey, you're likely to be dragged around a good deal. I expect to
jump from New York to somewhere in the Northwest. Mr. Hammond has not
exactly decided. The weather is very promising, and if we can shoot the
outdoor scenes before Christmas we'll be all right."
"Well, I do love to travel. Maybe we could get Jennie to go, too," Helen
said reflectively.
"She certainly would help," laughed Ruth. "I would rather laugh with
Jennie than grouch with anybody else."
"The wisdom of Mrs. Socrates," scoffed Helen. "Anyway, Ruthie, I'll
write her at once and tell her to begin pulling wires. You know, Mr.
Stone is as 'sot as the everlasting hills'--and it takes something to
move the hills, you know. He will have to be convinced, maybe, that
Jennie's health demands a change of climate at just this time."
"She looks it."
"Well, one might expect her to fade away a bit because of Henri's
absence. I wonder if she's heard from him since the armistice?"
"If she hasn't she'll need something besides a change of climate, I
assure you," laughed Ruth again. "She hates ocean voyaging, does Jennie;
but she wouldn't wait till she could go in an ox-cart to get back to
France if Henri forgot to write."
There was one thing sure: Jennie Stone was a delighted host when Helen
arrived in New York a few days ahead of Ruth and Wonota. Ruth had not
intended to go to the Stones; she would have felt more independent at a
hotel. She did not know what engagements Mr. Hammond or the director of
the picture might make for her. So she tried to dodge Jennie's
invitation.
When the train got in from New England, however, and Ruth and the Indian
girl, following a red-capped porter with their bags, walked through the
gateway of entrance to the concourse of the Grand Central Terminal,
there were both Jennie and Helen waiting to spy them.
"Mr. Hammond told me to come to the Borneaux. He has made reservations
there," Ruth said.
"That's all right for to-morrow," declared Jennie bruskly. "Hotel rooms
are all right to make up in, or anything like that. But you are both
going to my house for to-night"
"Now, Jennie--"
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