Ruth Fielding Down East | Page 5

scenario."

"Then, which breed of thief stole my scenario, Tom?" she demanded.
"You are no detective. Your deductions suggest two thieves."
"Humph! So they do. Maybe they run in pairs. But I can't really
imagine two light-fingered people around the Red Mill at once. Seen
any tramps lately?"
"We seldom see the usual tramp around here," said Ruth, shaking her
head. "We are too far off the railroad line. And the Cheslow constables
keep them moving if they land there."
"Could anybody have done it for a joke?" asked Tom suddenly.
"If they have," Ruth said, wiping her eyes, "it is the least like a joke of
anything that ever happened to me. Why, Tom! I couldn't lay out that
scenario again, and think of all the details, and get it just so, in a year!"
"Oh, Ruth!"
"I mean it! And even my notes are gone. Oh, dear! I'd never have the
heart to write that scenario again. I don't know that I shall ever write
another, anyway. I'm discouraged," sobbed the girl suddenly.
"Oh, Ruth! don't give way like this," he urged, with rather a boyish fear
of a girl's tears.
"I've given way already," she choked. "I just feel that I'll never be able
to put that scenario into shape again. And I'd written Mr. Hammond so
enthusiastically about it."
"Oh! Then he knows all about it!" said Tom. "That is more than any of
us do. You wouldn't tell us a thing."
"And I didn't tell him. He doesn't know the subject, or the title, or
anything about it. I tell you, Tom, I had such a good idea----"
"And you've got the idea yet, haven't you? Cheer up! Of course you can
do it over."

"Suppose," demanded Ruth quickly, "this thief that has got my
manuscript should offer it to some producer? Why! if I tried to rewrite
it and bring it out, I might be accused of plagiarizing my own work."
"Jimminy!"
"I wouldn't dare," said Ruth, shaking her head. "As long as I do not
know what has become of the scenario and my notes, I will not dare use
the idea at all. It is dreadful!"
The rain was now falling less torrentially. The tempest was passing.
Soon there was even a rift in the clouds in the northwest where a patch
of blue sky shone through "big enough to make a Scotchman a pair of
breeches," as Aunt Alvirah would say.
"We'd better go up to the house," sighed Ruth.
"I'll go right around to the neighbors and see if anybody has noticed a
stranger in the vicinity," Tom suggested.
"There's Ben! Do you suppose he has seen anybody?"
A lanky young man, his clothing gray with flour dust, came from the
back door of the mill and hastened under the dripping trees to reach the
porch of the farmhouse. He stood there, smiling broadly at them, as
Ruth and Tom hurriedly crossed the yard.
"Good day, Mr. Tom," said Ben, the miller's helper. Then he saw
Ruth's troubled countenance. "Wha--what's the matter, Ruthie?"
"Ben, I've lost something."
"Bless us an' save us, no!"
"Yes, I have. Something very valuable. It's been stolen."
"You don't mean it!"
"But I do! Some manuscript out of the summer-house yonder."

"And her gold-mounted fountain pen," added Tom. "That would tempt
somebody."
"My goodness!"
Ben could express his simple wonderment in a variety of phrases. But
he seemed unable to go beyond these explosive expressions.
"Ben, wake up!" exclaimed Ruth. "Have you any idea who would have
taken it?"
"That gold pen, Ruthie? Why--why---- A thief!"
"Old man," said Tom with suppressed disgust, "you're a wonder. How
did you guess it?"
"Hush, Tom," Ruth said. Then: "Now, Ben, just think. Who has been
around here to-day? Any stranger, I mean."
"Why--I dunno," said the mill hand, puckering his brows.
"Think!" she commanded again.
"Why--why----old Jep Parloe drove up for a grinding."
"He's not a stranger."
"Oh, yes he is, Ruthie. Me nor Mr. Potter ain't seen him before for nigh
three months. Your uncle up and said to him, 'Why, you're a stranger,
Mr. Parloe.'"
"I mean," said Ruth, with patience, "anybody whom you have never
seen before--or anybody whom you might suspect would steal."
"Well," drawled Ben stubbornly, "your uncle, Ruthie, says old Jep ain't
any too honest."
"I know all about that," Ruth said. "But Parloe did not leave his team
and go down to the summer-house, did he?"

"Oh, no!"
"Did you see anybody go down that way?"
"Don't believe I did--savin' you yourself, Ruthie."
"I left a manuscript and my pen on the table there. I ran out to meet
Tom and Helen when they came."
"I seen you," said Ben.
"Then it was just about that time that somebody sneaked into that
summer-house and