“So he does!  Oh, goody!” cried Ruth.  “I’ll see him, then, and talk right to him.  He is an awfully rich man—­so Hazel Gray told me.  We’ll get him interested in the dormitory fund, anyway, and then, whether I can write a five-reel drama well enough or not, maybe he can find somebody who will put it into shape,” Ruth added.

“Why, my dear!” exclaimed her chum, with scorn.  “If you have written one moving picture, of course you can another.”

Which did not follow at all, Ruth was sure.

“We’ll have to ask Mrs. Tellingham,” said Helen, with sudden doubt.  “Maybe she will not approve.”

“Oh!  I hope she will,” cried Ruth.  “But we must put it up to the girls themselves, first of all.  They must all be in it.  All must have an interest—­all must take part.  Otherwise it will not accomplish the end we are after.”

“Oh, oh, oh!” cried Helen, finally waking up.  “Of course! this is the very thing you wanted, Ruthie—­to give every girl something to do that is important toward earning the money for the building of the new dormitory.”

“That’s it, my dear.  We all must appear, and do our part.  School scenes, recreation scenes, athletic scenes in the gym; marching in our graduation procession; initiating candidates into the S.B. sorority; Old Noah’s Ark with the infants arriving at the beginning of the year; the dance we always have in the big hall at holiday time—­just a great, big picture of what boarding school girls do, and how they live, breathe and have their being!”

“Oh, jolly!” gasped Helen, taking fire from her friend’s enthusiasm.  “Say! the girls are going to be just about crazy over this, Ruth.  You will be the most popular girl in the school.”

“I hope not!” gasped Ruth, in real panic.  “I’m not doing this for any such purpose.  Don’t be singing my praises all the time, Helen.  The girls will get sick and tired to death of hearing about ‘wonderful me.’  We all want to do something to help Mrs. Tellingham and the school.  That’s all there is to it.  Now, do be sensible.”

They were not long in taking the girls at large into their confidence.  When it was known that Ruth Fielding had actually written one scenario for a film, which had been accepted, paid for, and would be produced, naturally the enthusiasm over the idea of having a reproduction of school life at Briarwood filmed, became much greater than it might otherwise have been.  As a whole, the girls of Briarwood Hall were in a mood to work together for the fund.

“No misunderstandings,” said Jennie Stone, firmly.  “We don’t want to make the sort of mistake the rural constable did when he came along by the riverside and saw a face floating on the water.  ‘Come out o’ that!’ he says.  ‘You know there ain’t no bathing allowed around here.’  And the face in the water answered:  ’Excuse me, officer; I’m not bathing—­I’m only drowning!’

“We’ve all got to pull together,” the plump girl continued, very much in earnest.  “No hanging back—­no squabbling over little things.  If Ruth Fielding can write a picture play we must all do our prettiest in acting in it.  Why!  I’d play understudy to a baby elephant in a circus for the sake of helping build the new dormitory.”