be and she
"oh, dear, me'd" and yawned alternately all through the tale of the lost
scenario and notebooks, appreciating fully how Ruth felt about it, but
unable to smother the expression of her desire for sleep.

"Maybe we ought not to have come on this automobile trip," said Jennie.
"If the thief just did it to be mean and is somebody who lives around the
Red Mill, perhaps you might have discovered something by mingling with the
neighbors."

"Oh! Tom did all that," sighed Ruth. "And without avail. He searched the
neighborhood thoroughly, although he is confident that a tramp carried it
off. And that seems reasonable. I am almost sure, Heavy, that my scenario
will appear under the trademark of some other producing manager than Mr.
Hammond."

"Oh! How mean!"

"Well, a thief is almost the meanest person there is in the world, don't
you think so? Except a backbiter. And anybody mean enough to steal my
scenario must be mean enough to try to make use of it."

"Oh, dear! Ow-oo-ooo! Scuse me, Ruth. Yes, I guess you are right. But
can't you stop the production of the picture?"

"How can I do that?"

"I don't----ow-oo!----know. Scuse me, dear."

"Most pictures are made in secret, anyway. The public knows nothing about
them until the producer is ready to make their release."

"I--ow-oo!--I see," yawned Jennie.

"Even the picture play magazines do not announce them until the first
runs. Then, sometimes, there is a synopsis of the story published. But it
will be too late, then. Especially when I have no notes of my work, nor
any witnesses. I told no living soul about the scenario--what it was
about, or----"

"Sh-sh-sh----"

"Why, Heavy!" murmured the scandalized Ruth.

"Sh-sh-sh--whoo!" breathed the plump girl, with complete abandon.

"My goodness!" exclaimed Ruth, tempted to shake her, "if you snore like
that when you are married, Henri will have to sleep at the other end of
the house."

But this was completely lost on the tired Jennie Stone, who continued to
breathe heavily until Ruth herself fell asleep. It seemed as though the
latter had only closed her eyes when the sun shining into her face awoke
the girl of the Red Mill. The shades of the east window had been left up,
and it was sunrise.

Plenty of farm noises outside the Drovers' Tavern, as well as a stir in
the kitchen, assured Ruth that there were early risers here. Jennie,
rolled in more than her share of the bedclothes, continued to breathe as
hea