CHAPTER VIII

THE PARTY

The next day Ruth had her first business quarrel with Tom. It was over the salary she had agreed to pay Viola Callahan.

“She isn’t worth it,” he protested doggedly.

“It isn’t any more than she’s been getting right along with Brennan,” came from Ruth.

“Well, you notice Brennan wasn’t so anxious to get her back when she jumped her contract.”

“No wonder. Neither would I.”

“Yes, you would,” Tom persisted. “That is, you would if she were a good enough actress.”

“She is a good actress.”

“Not good enough for that salary.”

“Tom, please don’t let’s discuss it any more. Maybe I did do wrong--although I don’t think so. Only time will prove that. And in the meantime, we’re wasting time sitting here and arguing about it. You wanted Viola, yourself, you know you did. And I’m sure she’ll carry the lead nicely and if she does and makes this picture the success I’m hoping for it, we could afford to pay her a much larger salary.”

“Yes, I know we could,” Tom capitulated at last. “And we won’t say anything more about it, Ruth, since it’s done, though I undoubtedly have a right to be consulted beforehand on money matters. But our job now is to pitch into the making of pictures and make this one the finest yet. Certainly no amount of Viola Callahans could spoil that.”

He said nothing further, but Ruth had an uneasy feeling that Tom’s mind was not changed in the least. And this attitude of his seemed only to add to her responsibility. If everything went well--very well! If not----

The night of the party arrived at last.

Ruth was in wonderful spirits. This was due partly to anticipation of the party, partly to the fact that she and Tom and Helen could expect to start for Chicago in a few days’ time and from there to Montana.

Mercy Curtis was obliged to decline Ruth’s invitation. The girls were to come over from Helen’s in the afternoon, bag and baggage. Though Jennie Marchand declared she had only brought a “toothbrush and nightie” with her, it was noticed that her bag was the biggest and heaviest of all.

This was Wednesday. The big party was for that night, and the next day the girls were all to start back home.

“We’ve stayed so long now,” said Ann Hicks. “It’s a wonder our families don’t disown us!”

Jennie, she thought, would probably stay on for a few days longer, accompanying Ruth and Helen and Tom when they started for Chicago.

It happened that Layton Boardman came down to the Red Mill that afternoon to see Ruth on a matter of business, knowing nothing of the party. Aunt Alvirah, who had been immensely taken with the cowboy actor from the start, insisted that he stay to dinner and the party afterward.

Ruth could do nothing but second the old lady’s invitation, though she knew Uncle Jabez would growl at the necessity of entertaining an actor in his house. Then, too, she was not at all sure that the other members of the party would enjoy having Boardman thrust upon them.

However, she need not have worried. Layton Boardman proved even more friendly and pleasant than Ruth had thought him. In the quiet dignity of the old house there was little of the wild open plains suggested in his manner or bearing. He was unaffected and at home, and it was not long before the delighted girls and boys discovered that he possessed a quiet wit that was convulsing.

“I love your hero, Ruth,” Nettie Parsons confessed before the evening was half over.

And a little later came in a whisper from Helen:

“If I weren’t so terribly in love with Chess, Ruthie--you needn’t smile, you bad thing--I think my heart would be in several little pieces by this time. Ruthie, you’re in danger. Our handsome hero admires you immensely!”

Nonsense, of course; but pleasant nonsense. Ruth’s contentment grew as she realized what a splendid time every one was having.

They pushed back the furniture and danced. There also Layton Boardman shone and Ruth thought that if his skill on horseback was nearly as finished as his skill in dancing it must be very great indeed.

The actor danced with all the girls in turn, a fact which Ruth knew they would never stop talking about when they returned home. But the girl of the Red Mill was amused to find that after Boardman had danced with her twice in succession Tom took possession of her and denied all further requests on the part of the actor.

“Didn’t I tell you I was going to watch my step when that fellow was around?” said Tom in answer to the amused twinkle in her eye.

“Well, see that you do!” Ruth admonished severely. “You stepped on my toe that time, Tommy. My best satin slippers, at that!”

Long before refreshments were served Uncle Jabez went to bed. His action was patently intended to express his disapproval of the “goings on.”

Aunt Alvirah, however, stayed up to the last moment, sitting in a corner of the room, her old face wreathed in smiles and her old back upright, despite the stiffness of it.

It was long past midnight before the party broke up and then, as the girls said, they had fairly “to push the boys out the front door.”

“It’s lucky,” sighed Jennie as the automobiles tooted off down the road bearing Layton Boardman along with them, “that the girls are going home to-morrow, Ruth Fielding. That hero of yours is far too good looking to be allowed around loose.”

“He isn’t,” said Ruth, stretching luxuriously. “I have him all sewed up with a nice contract. But, oh, the money the Fielding Film Company has to pay that man!”

The next day Ann Hicks went to visit her aunts and Nettie Parsons and Mary Cox went home. Jennie Marchand was to spend a few days more with Helen before going back to New York, to resume her interrupted visit there.

Tom took them to the station, Helen and Ruth and Jennie going along to say good-by. Several others--of the male population of Cheslow--were gathered on the platform for the same purpose. Consequently the girls were given a rousing good send off.

“The next time we come, Ruth Fielding,” said Mary Cox, poking her head out the window as the train began to move, “we will come prepared to stay at least a year!”

“It was like old times, having them,” murmured Ruth. “I wish they might have stayed a year! And now,” turning with an eager smile to Tom, “for Montana--and adventure.”

“There ought to be plenty of that,” Tom agreed.