The Moving Picture Girls at Oak Farm | Page 7

the girl.
"I wish I could find her dog," thought Alice. "It's too bad to have a pet
and lose him."
"I don't like dogs!" exclaimed Ruth. "I'm always afraid they'll bite me."
Alice laughed at her sister's nervousness.
"There's Sandy!" exclaimed Russ, pointing to a young farmer who was
holding the heads of two horses attached to a large "carryall."
"Come on!" called Mr. Pertell to his players. "I expect you're all hungry,
on account of the delay. Have you anything to eat out at your place?"
he called to Sandy.
"Yep. Ma's been bakin' an' cookin' for th' last week!" was the
comforting answer. "We're all ready for you. I'm going to take you over
in this rig, and I've got another wagon for your trunks and stuff. Have a
good journey?"
"Good! Bah! A smash-up!" growled Mr. Sneed. "But we might have
expected it--starting out on track thirteen."
"Yah! But ve are all right now, alretty yet!" laughed Mr. Switzer.
Ruth, Alice and the others looked about them with interest. It was a

typical country landscape--a little valley nestling amid the green hills.
"Oh, I know I'm going to like it here," murmured Ruth. "It is so
restful!"
"Restful! Yes! I should say it was!" exclaimed Pearl Pennington, as she
bent a stick of chewing gum, preparatory to enjoying it. "I know what
I'll do, all right!"
"What, dear?" asked her friend Laura Dixon, with lazy interest.
"What'll you do?"
"I'll be going back to little old New York in about a week. This place
has got on my nerves already. Ugh! Isn't it quiet!"
It certainly was, after the departure of the train. There was none of the
various noises of New York. Even the horses seemed ready to go to
sleep as they stood lazily at the shafts or poles of the vehicles they
drew.
"Come on!" cried Sandy, hospitably. "It's quite a little drive out to our
farm, and I know your folks must be tired and hungry."
"Hungry! That's no name for it!" voiced Miss Dixon. "Have you any
lobsters, Mr. Apgar?"
"Lobsters? No'm. They don't raise none of them birds out here. But we
got chicken."
"Oh, listen to him, Pearl!" exclaimed Miss Dixon. "He thinks a lobster
is a bird."
"Don't mind them," said Paul Ardite to Sandy, in a low voice. "It hasn't
been many years that they could afford lobster. Chicken for mine, every
time."
"Well, they do say ma cooks th' best chicken around here," spoke
Sandy, proudly. "She done it in Southern style this time."

"Say no more!" exclaimed Mr. DeVere. "Sandy, you are a gentleman
and a scholar. How long will it take us to get to your farm?"
"About half an hour."
"That's twenty-nine minutes too long, since you have mentioned
chicken in Southern style. But do your best."
Seated in the comfortable carryall, the members of the moving picture
company began their trip to Oak Farm. The way lay along a pleasant
country road, and in the distance could be seen the cool, green hills.
It was early June, and, all about, the farmers were doing their work.
The air was sweet with the scent of flowers and the green woods, for
the road led past several forest patches where the wind swept pleasantly
through the swaying trees.
"Oh, it is just lovely here!" sighed Ruth, as she removed her hat and let
the gentle wind blow about her hair. "I know I shall love it. And,
Daddy dear, maybe it will do your voice good."
"Perhaps it will, daughter," he agreed. "However, since we are doing so
well in moving pictures, I have not the desire I had at first to get back
to the boards. I am becoming content in this line."
"I'm glad," said Alice, "for I like it very much. Oh, it is lovely here,
Ruth!"
"Just fine, I call it!" exclaimed Russ. "The air is so clear. I'm sure we'll
get fine pictures here."
"I know we'll die of loneliness," grumbled Miss Pennington. "I wish we
hadn't come, Laura."
"So do I, but there's no help for it now," replied Miss Dixon.
Rumbling behind the carryall was the farm wagon containing the trunks,
and in less than the half-hour stipulated by Sandy, Oak Farm was
reached. Ruth, Alice and their father fell in love with the place at first

sight. Mr. Pertell and Russ had seen it before, and most of the others
admired it.
There was a big, old-fashioned farmhouse, setting back from the road,
and fronted by a wide stretch of green lawn. The house was white, with
green shutters, and was well kept. Back of it were barns and other farm
buildings, some of which were rather dilapidated.
"Welcome to Oak Farm!" cried Sandy. "There's Pa Felix and Ma