o life and act naturally, nothing ever will!"

Ruth left the matter in the director's hands and retired from the
location. She had no intention herself of appearing in the picture. She
found Mr. Hammond sitting in his automobile in a state of good-humor.

"You seem quite sure that the work will go better to-day, Mr. Hammond,"
Ruth observed, with curiosity as to the reason for his apparent enjoyment.

"Whether it does or not, Miss Ruth," he responded. "There is something
that I fancy is going to be more than a little amusing."

He tapped a package wrapped in a soiled newspaper which lay on the seat
beside him. "Thank goodness, I can still enjoy a joke."

"What is the joke? Let me enjoy it, too," she said.

"With the greatest of pleasure. I'll let you read it, if you like--as you
did those other scenarios."

"What! Is it a movie story?" she asked.

"So I am assured. It is the contribution of John, the hermit. He brought
it to me just before we started over here this morning. Poor old codger!
Just look here, Miss Ruth."

Mr. Hammond turned back the loose covering of the package on the
automobile seat. Ruth saw a packet of papers, seemingly of roughly trimmed
sheets of wrapping paper and of several sizes. At the top of the upper
sheet was the title of the hermit's scenario. It was called "Plain Mary."
She glanced down the page, noting that it was written in a large, upright,
hand and with an indelible pencil.

Ruth Fielding had not the least idea that she was to take any particular
interest in this picture-story. She smiled more because Mr. Hammond seemed
so amused than for any other reason. Secretly she thought that most of
these moving picture people were rather unkind to the strange old man who
lived alone on the seaward side of the Beach Plum Point.

"Want to read it over?" Mr. Hammond asked her. "I would consider it a
favor, for I've got to go back and try to catch up with my correspondence.
I expect this is worse than those you skimmed through yesterday."

Ruth did not hear him. Suddenly she had seen something that had not at
first interested her. She read the first few lines of the opening, and saw
nothing in them of importance. It was the writing itself that struck her.

"Why!" she suddenly gasped.

She was reminded of something that she had seen before. This writing----

"Let me go back to the camp with you, Mr. Hammond," she said, slipping
into the seat and taking the packet of written sheets into h