g the girl," said Dora. "Perhaps Ruth Fielding
is quite modest."

"What? After writing a moving picture drama? Is there anything modest
about the motion picture business in _any_ of its branches?"

"Oh, dear me, Edie!" cried one of her listeners, "you're dreadful."

"I presume this canned drama authoress," pursued Edith, "will have
ink-stains on her fingers and her hair will be eternally flying about
her careworn features. Well! and what are _you_ laughing at?" she
suddenly and tartly demanded of the plump girl in the background.

"At you," chuckled the stranger.

"Am I so funny to look at?"

"No. But you are the funniest-talking girl I ever listened to. Let me
laugh, won't you?"

Before this observation could be more particularly inquired into, some
one shouted:

"Oh, look who's here! And in style, bless us!"

"And see the freight! Excess baggage, for a fact," May MacGreggor said,
under her breath. "Who _can_ she be?"

"The Queen of Sheba in all her glory had nothing on this lady," cried
Edith with conviction.

It was not often that any of the Ardmore girls, and especially a
freshman, arrived during the opening week of the term in a private
equipage. This car that came chugging down the hill to the entrance of
Dare Hall was a very fine touring automobile. The girl in the tonneau,
barricaded with a huge trunk and several bags, besides a huge leather
hat-box perched beside the chauffeur, was very gaily appareled as well.

"Goodness! look at the labels on that trunk," whispered Dora Parton.
"Why, that girl must have been all over Europe."

"The trunk has, at any rate," chuckled May.

"Hist!" now came from the excited Edith Phelps. "See the initials, 'R.
F.' What did I tell you? It is that Fielding girl!"

"Oh, my aunt!" groaned the plump girl in the background, and she
actually had to stuff her handkerchief in her mouth to keep from
laughing outright again.

The car had halted and the chauffeur got down promptly, for he had to
remove some of the "excess baggage" before the girl in the tonneau could
alight.

"I guess she must think she belongs here," whispered Dora.

"More likely she thinks she owns the whole place," snapped Edith, who
had evidently made up her mind not to like the new girl whose baggage
was marked "R. F."

The girl got out and shook out her draperies. A close inspection would
have revealed the fact that, although dressed in the very height of
fashion (whatever _that_ may mean), th