When the last tear is squeezed out
much of the pain goes with it."

Ruth was not ordinarily a crying girl. She had wept more of late,
beginning with that day at the Red Mill when her scenario manuscript had
been stolen, than in all her life before.

Her tears were now in part an expression of anger and indignation. She was
as mad as she could be at this man who called himself "John, the hermit."
For, whether he was the person who had actually stolen her manuscript, he
very well knew that his scenario offered to Mr. Hammond was not original
with him.

The worst of it was, he had mangled her scenario. Ruth could look upon it
in no other way. His changes had merely muddied the plot and cheapened her
main idea. She could not forgive that!

The other girls were drowsy when Ruth kissed Mother Paisley good-night and
entered the small shack. She was glad to escape any interrogation. By
morning she had gained control of herself, but her eyes betrayed the fact
that she had not slept.

"You certainly do not look as though you were enjoying yourself down
here," Tom Cameron said to her at breakfast time, and with suspicion.
"Maybe we did come to the wrong place for our vacation after all. How
about it, Ruth? Shall we start off in the cars again and seek pastures
new?"

"Not now, Tom," she told him, hastily. "I must stay right here."

"Why?"

"Because----"

"That is no sensible reason."

"Let me finish," she said rather crossly. "Because I must see what sort of
scenario Mr. Hammond finds--if he finds any--in this contest."

"Humph! And you said you and scenarios were done forever! I fancy Mr.
Hammond is taking advantage of your good nature."

"He is not."

"You are positively snappish, Ruth," complained Tom. "You've changed your
mind----"

"Isn't that a girl's privilege?"

"Very well, Miladi!" he said, with a deep bow as they rose from the table.
"However, you need not give all your attention to these prize stories,
need you? Let's do something besides follow these sun-worshippers around
to-day."

"All right, Tommy-boy," acclaimed his sister. "What do you suggest?"

"A run along the coast to Reef Harbor where there are a lot of folks we
know," Tom promptly replied.

"Not in that old _Tocsin_," cried Jennie. "She's so small I can't take off
my sweater without tipping her over."

"Oh, what a whopper!" gasped Helen.

"Never mind," grinned her twin. "Let Jennie run to the superlatives if she
likes. Anyway, I w