“I talked with her about her father.  She is very proud of him, this Totantora, as she calls him.  But only now and then does she express (and that in a flash) her real love and admiration for him.

“She is deeply, and justly, angered at that Dakota Joe Fenbrook.  But she scarcely expresses that feeling in her face or voice.  She speaks of his cruelty to her with sadness in her voice merely, and scarcely a flicker of expression in her countenance.”

“Ah!” Ruth said.  “Now you see what I see.  It is impossible for her to register changing expressions and feelings as a white girl would.  Nor would she be natural as ‘Brighteyes’ if she easily showed emotion.  Yet she mustn’t be stolid, for if she does the audience will never get what we are trying to put over.”

“The director has got to have judgment—­I agree to that,” said Mr. Hammond, nodding.  “Wonota must be handled with care.  But she’s got it in her to be a real star in time.  She photographs like a million dollars!” and he laughed.  “Now if we can teach her to be expressive enough—­well, I am more than ever willing to take the chance with her, provided you, Miss Ruth, will agree to supply the vehicles of expression.”

“You flatter me, Mr. Hammond,” returned Ruth, flushing faintly.  “I shall of course be glad to do my best in the writing line.”

“That’s it.  Between us we ought to make a lot of money.  And incidentally to make an Indian star who will make ’em all sit up and take notice.”

Ruth was so much interested in “Brighteyes” by this time that she “ate, slept, walked and talked” little else—­to quote Helen.  But Tom’s sister grew much interested in the production, too.

“I’m going with you—­to New York, anyway,” she announced.  “I might as well.  Father is so busy with his business now that I scarcely see him from week end to week end.  Dear me, if Tommy only would come home!”

“I guess he’d be delighted,” rejoined Ruth, smiling.  “But if you go with me, honey, you’re likely to be dragged around a good deal.  I expect to jump from New York to somewhere in the Northwest.  Mr. Hammond has not exactly decided.  The weather is very promising, and if we can shoot the outdoor scenes before Christmas we’ll be all right.”

“Well, I do love to travel.  Maybe we could get Jennie to go, too,” Helen said reflectively.

“She certainly would help,” laughed Ruth.  “I would rather laugh with Jennie than grouch with anybody else.”

“The wisdom of Mrs. Socrates,” scoffed Helen.  “Anyway, Ruthie, I’ll write her at once and tell her to begin pulling wires.  You know, Mr. Stone is as ’sot as the everlasting hills’—­and it takes something to move the hills, you know.  He will have to be convinced, maybe, that Jennie’s health demands a change of climate at just this time.”

“She looks it.”

“Well, one might expect her to fade away a bit because of Henri’s absence.  I wonder if she’s heard from him since the armistice?”