Curly dropped softly into the room.  Ruth led him by the hand to the door, which she opened softly.  The hall was pitch dark, too.

“You’re all right, Ruthie Fielding!” he muttered, as he passed her and stepped into the hall.  “I won’t forget this.”

Ruth thought it might be a warning to him.  In the morning his grandmother admitted having found the boy curled up in a rug and asleep before the sitting-room fire.

“An’ I thought he was out o’ doors all the time,” she said.  “I ought to punish him, anyway, I s’pose, for scaring me so.”

Ruth Fielding spent all her spare time (and that was not much, for her studies were just then very engrossing) in planning and sketching out the five-reel drama in which she hoped to interest Mr. Hammond, head of the Alectrion Film Corporation.  She called up the Lumberton Hotel every day to learn if the film company had arrived.

At length the clerk told her Mr. Hammond himself had come, and expected his company the next day.  Mr. Hammond was near and was soon speaking to the girl of the Red Mill over the telephone.

“Is this the famous authoress of ‘Curiosity?’” asked Mr. Hammond, laughing.  “I have received your signed contract and acceptance, and the scenario is already in rehearsal.  I hope everything is perfectly satisfactory, Miss Fielding?”

“Oh, Mr. Hammond!  I’m not joking.  I want to see you very, very much.”

“About ‘Curiosity?’”

“Oh, no, sir!  I’m very grateful to you for taking that and paying me for it, as I told you,” Ruth said.  “But this is something different—­and much more important. When can I see you?”

“Any time after breakfast and before bedtime, my dear,” Mr. Hammond assured her.  “Do you want to come to town, or shall I come to Briarwood Hall?”

“If you would come here you could see Mrs. Tellingham, too, and that would be lots better,” Ruth assured him.

“The principal of your school?” he asked, in surprise.

“Yes, Mr. Hammond.  One of our buildings has burned down——­”

“Oh!  I saw that in the paper,” interposed the gentleman.  “It is too bad.”

“It is tragic!” declared Ruth, earnestly.  “There was no insurance, and all us girls want to help build a new dormitory.  I have a plan—­and you can help——­”

“We—­ell,” said Mr. Hammond, doubtfully.  “How much does this mean?”

“I don’t know.  If the idea is as good as I think it is, Mr. Hammond,” Ruth told him, placidly, “you will make a lot of money, and so will Briarwood Hall.”

“Hullo!” ejaculated the gentleman.  “You expect to show me how to make some money?  I thought you wanted a contribution.”

“No.  It is a bona fide scheme for making money,” laughed Ruth.  “Do run out sometime to-day and let me talk you into it.  You shall meet Mrs. Tellingham, too.”

The gentleman promised, and kept the promise promptly.  He heard Ruth’s idea, approved of it with enthusiasm, and went over with her the briefly outlined sketch for “The Heart of a Schoolgirl.”  He was able to suggest a number of important changes in Ruth’s plan, and his ideas were all helpful and put with tact.  Mr. Hammond and Mrs. Tellingham came to an understanding and made a written agreement, too.