“But the cripple part of it,” Tom protested. “Carlton Brewer is one of the best set-up lads I ever saw.”
“Oh, Tommy, Tommy, you’re funny,” cried Ruth, laughing a little with suppressed excitement. “Do you mean to tell me that you have been connected with this profession this long without learning that with a little artificial make-up the straightest back can be bent and a most convincing screen cripple made? And incidentally Abe Levy—did you notice him? The little good-looking, curly-haired Jew with the cheerful smile—is one of the cleverest make-up men in the profession. I’m willing to bet that with a little coaxing on my part he could make the loveliest cripple out of Carlton Brewer that you ever saw!”
Tom stopped before her and gazed down at her with that slightly bewildered, wholly admiring wonder that was a part of his affection for the girl.
“I believe anybody would do almost anything for you when you look like that, Ruth Fielding!” he said.
She made a little face at him and for a while they relapsed into a thoughtful silence.
At last Tom said:
“If you feel that way about it, I’d be willing to back your judgment to the limit. Mr. Hammond has given you full leave to exercise your discretion. Why don’t you discharge Rumph and have it over with?”
But Ruth shook her head, a shadow once more clouding her face.
“Not yet,” she said. “I don’t want to make any radical change until I feel that I have the full confidence of my company. And it may take me some time to win that, Tom!”
If Ruth could have been present at a conference of some of her actors and directors in Layton Boardman’s room, she would have found her forebodings justified.