ng
for dinner. The sun, although still above the horizon, was dimmed by
cloud-banks which were rising steadily to meet clouds over the sea.

A wan light played upon the heaving "graybacks" outside the mouth of the
harbor. The wind whined among the pines which grew along the ridge of
Beach Plum Point.

A storm was imminent. Just as Mr. Hammond took note of this and wished
that Ruth Fielding and her party had returned, a snorting automobile
rattled along the shell road and halted near the camp.

"Is this the Alectrion Film Company?" asked a shrill voice.

"This is the place, Miss," said the driver of the small car.

The chauffeur ran his jitney from the railroad station and was known to
Mr. Hammond. The latter went nearer.

Out of the car stepped a girl--a very young girl to be traveling alone.
She was dressed in extreme fashion, but very cheaply. Her hair was bobbed
and she wore a Russian blouse of cheap silk. Her skirt was very narrow,
her cloth boots very high, and the heels of them were like those of
Jananese clogs.

What with the skimpy skirt and the high heels she could scarcely walk. She
was laden with two bags--one an ancient carpet-bag that must have been
seventy-five years old, and the other a bright tan one of imitation
leather with brass clasps. She wore a coal-scuttle hat pulled down over
her eyes so that her face was quite extinguished.

Altogether her get-up was rather startling. Mr. Hammond saw Jim Hooley
come out of his tent to stare at the new arrival. She certainly was a
"type."

There was a certain kind of prettiness about the girl, and aside from her
incongruous garments she was not unattractive--when her face was revealed.
Mr. Hammond's interest increased. He approached the spot where the girl
had been left by the jitney driver.

"You came to see somebody?" he asked kindly. "Who is it you wish to see?"

"Is this the moving picture camp, Mister?" she returned.

"Yes," said the manager, smiling. "Are you acquainted with somebody who
works here?"

"Yes. I am Arabella Montague Fitzmaurice," said the girl, with an air that
seemed to show that she expected to be recognized when she had recited her
name.

Mr. Hammond refrained from open laughter. He only said:

"Why--that is nice. I am glad to meet you, my dear. Who are you looking
for?"

"I want to see my pa, of course. I guess you know who _he_ is?"

"I am not sure that I do, my dear."

"You don't--Say! who are you?" demanded Bella,